She was quiet again, looking at me, turning her glass. Then she smiled.
'It was a very big wedding at Memorial Chapel at Harvard. Reception at the Ritz.'
'Brad's family had money,' I said.
'Not after the reception,' Susan said. 'Actually, Brad's father ran a salvage business in Chelsea. But by the time I came along he'd moved the family to Wellesley. Brad went to Harvard. His sister went to Bryn Mawr.'
The waitress brought me another beer. Susan took a sip of her wine. Racing to catch up.
'Then what?' I said.
'Then not much,' Susan said. 'His father bought us a little house in South Natick.'
'Just across the line from Wellesley.'
'Yes. Brad's mother was ten minutes away on Route 16.'
'Perfect.'
'And Brad got a job with an advertising agency in town.'
'You?'
'I stayed home and wore cute aprons and redid my makeup every afternoon before he came home for supper-'
'Supper?' Susan smiled.
'I know,' she said. 'It was pathetic. I couldn't cook. I didn't want to learn. I hate to cook.'
'Is that so,' I said.
'The house was a four-room Cape with an unfinished attic. I could stand in the hall and see all four rooms.'
'You can do that now,' I said. 'In your apartment.'
'Yes, but I live there alone.'
'Except for Pearl,' I said.
'Pearl is not a person,' Susan said.
'Try telling her that.'
'I hated the house. I hated being alone in it all day, and then when he came home I got claustrophobic being with him all night, sharing the same bedroom, the same bath.'
'Space is nice,' I said.
'The feeling is still with me. It's why we don't live together.'
'The way we live seems about right to me,' I said.
'I know, but… when I married Brad, if people moved to twin beds you figured divorce was imminent.'
'You didn't work.'
'No. It would have embarrassed Brad to have his wife working. It would have implied he couldn't support her.'
'Children?'
'Oh, God, yes. He wanted me to have children.'
'And you didn't want to.'
'Not then.'
'Because?'
'I never knew. I just knew I couldn't.'
'You know now?'
'It's something I've had a hard time thinking about,' she said. 'I must have sensed that this wasn't the right marriage to bring children into.'
'Not so long ago you wanted us to have a kid.'
'This isn't about me,' Susan said.
'You think I'd try to rescue Brad from the feminists if you didn't ask me?'
'I know,' Susan said. 'But it's a part of my life I don't like to talk about.'
'Like the part where you and I were separated?'
She was silent looking into her nearly full wine glass.
'If you had a patient,' I said, 'who couldn't talk about certain parts of her life, what would you tell her?'
Susan continued to look into her wine glass. Her shoulders looked stiff and angular. She didn't speak.
'I withdraw the question,' I said.
