That Was Then
We are unerring in our choice of lovers, particularly when we require the wrong person. There is an instinct, magnet or aerial which seeks the unsuitable. The wrong person is, of course, right for something - to punish, bully or humiliate us, let us down, leave us for dead, or, worst of all, give us the impression that they are not inappropriate, but almost right, thus hanging us in love's limbo. Not just anyone can do this.
A Meeting, At Last
Eric said, "My children are going to be pretty angry with you when they find out what you've done to us."
"Yes," said Morgan. "Who could blame them?"
"They're big and expensive. They eat like horses."
"Christ."
Morgan thought he had been afraid of happiness, and kept it away; he had been afraid of other people, and had kept them away. He was still afraid, but it was too late for that.
"What?" said Eric.
"I've decided," said Morgan. "The answer is yes. Yes to everything! Now you must get out." He stopped the car. "Out, I said!"
The Umbrella
He had always been proud of the idea that he was a good man who treated people fairly. He did not want to impose himself. The world would be a better place if people considered their actions. Perhaps he had put himself on a pedestal. "You have a high reputation - with yourself!" a friend had said. Everyone was entitled to some pride and vanity. However, this whole business with his wife had stripped hi of his moral certainities. There was no just or objective way to resolve competing claims: those of freedom - his freedom - to have his dependable presence. but no amount of conscience or morality would make him go back. He had not missed his wife for a moment.
"No. No umbrella," she said.
He said, "There were three there last week."
"Maybe there were."
"Are there not still three umbrellas there?"
"Maybe there are," she said.
"Give me one."
"No."
"Sorry?"
"I'm not giving you one, " She said. "If there were a thousand umbrellas there I would not give you one."
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