table.”
“What do you do with it if you have a sleepover?”
“It stays,” Jesse said.
“Sleepovers have to know about
you.”
“Is that in your best interest?” Jenn said. “Wouldn’t it
discourage sleeping over.”
“Maybe,” Jesse said.
“But not entirely,” Jenn said.
“No,” Jesse said. “Not
entirely.”
They were silent, thinking about it. Jesse got up and made another shaker of martinis.
“What is it they have to know about me?”
Jenn said when he
brought the shaker back.
“That I love you, and, probably, am not going to love
them.”
“Good,” Jenn said.
“Good for who?” Jesse said.
“For me at least,” Jenn said. “I
want you in my
life.”
“Are you sure divorcing me is the best way to show that?”
“I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”
“Old habits die hard,” Jesse said.
“It’s more than a habit, Jesse.
There’s some sort of connection
between us that won’t break.”
“Maybe its because I don’t let it
break,” Jesse
said.
“You don’t,” Jenn said.
“But then here I am.”
“Here you are.”
“I could have been a weather girl in Los Angeles, or Pittsburgh
or San Antonio.”
“But here you are,” Jesse said.
“You’re not the only one hanging
on,” Jenn said.
“What the hell is wrong with us?” Jesse said.
Jenn put her glass out. Jesse freshened her drink.
“Probably a lot more than we know,” Jenn said. “But one thing I
do know: we take it seriously.”
“What?”
“Love, marriage, relationship, each other.”
“Which is why we got divorced and started fucking other people,”
Jesse said. “Or vice versa.”
“I deserve the vice versa,” Jenn said.
“But I don’t keep
deserving it every time we talk.”
“I know,” Jesse said.
