Read Love and Other Natural Disasters for Free Online

You haven't seen her since the conference?" I asked,
willing him to tell the truth.
    He didn't answer right away. Then,
hesitantly, he said, "A couple months ago, she was in San Francisco."
    The correct answer was six weeks.
But at least he was close. "She came out to see you?"
    "She'd always wanted to see
San Francisco...," he trailed off. "Yeah, she came to see me."
    "And what happened?"
    "Nothing. We went to a
baseball game. That's all."
    "You're saying she flew out
here so you could go to a baseball game, and nothing else?"
    "Maybe she had a crush on me.
But like I said, nothing happened."
    "Were you tempted?"
    "What does it matter, Eve? I
would never cheat on you. I love you."
    "And what do you feel for
her?" My eyes bore into his and, for a second, I thought, We can
survive this if he just tells the truth right now.
    "She's my friend, that's
all."
    "How can you do this? How can
you just lie like this?" I burst out.
    "I'm not lying! She's my
friend."
    "That's not a feeling.
Friendship isn't a feeling."
    "It is a feeling. I have
friendly feelings toward her."
    "Jesus Christ, Jon. What do
you take me for?"
    "I'm telling the truth."
    What scared me was he seemed to
believe it. "Then something's wrong with you. If you'd deceive me for a
year for someone who doesn't even matter, then something's wrong."
    "I told you how that
happened."
    "I think you're either lying,
or you're too afraid to admit what she really means to you."
    "There is a third possibility,
you know."
    "I don't think there is."
I paused. "I want you to go to therapy so you can figure out who you are
and what you Want."
    He snorted. "Come on,
Eve."
    "I'm serious, Jon."
    He studied my face. "We'll go
to marriage counseling and figure it out together."
    "No. You go to counseling by
yourself."
    I felt a certain grim satisfaction
in watching Jon squirm. I'd done tons of therapy in my life; it was always a
given between us that he never needed it. I was the fucked-up one, even if it
was in remission.
    "Fine," he said.
"I'll go to counseling."
    "I don't want you to come home
until you've figured some things out."
    "Where do you expect me to
go?"
    "I'm sure you can stay with
your mom."
    He was looking at me with
disbelief. "You're kicking me out for this? For writing e-mails?"
    "If that's all you think
you've done, you really have some figuring out to do."
    "I know you want to punish me,
but what about Jacob?"
    "This isn't about punishment.
It's about what I'm feeling. Would it help Jacob to see us hating each
other?"
    He winced. "You're saying you
hate me? You're capable of hating me?"
    "Just—you can't come home.
Okay? Can't you understand that?"
    "Look, I know you're hurt, and
sometimes it's easier for you to be angry—"
    "Fuck you, Jon. This isn't my
character deficit we're dealing with."
    He visibly took a deep breath.
"I knew this wasn't going to be easy, and I'm prepared to deal with your
anger. For as long as it takes."
    "Do not patronize me."
    "I'm not patronizing you. I'm
trying to be with you. I know you don't have to make that easy for me, but can
you at least admit that part of you, a small part of you, wants me home,
too?"
    "A lot of me wants you home.
If you'd asked me this afternoon... but you hid another woman from me, you told
her all sorts of things..." Careful.
    There were tears in his eyes as he
said softly, "Please. I'm begging you. Let me come home."
    I started to give way, but then I
felt a hard pellet inside me. I couldn't say the size or the location (my head?
my stomach? my chest?) but it said, HE CANNOT COME HOME. It said, DIDN'T YOU
HEAR ME? I SAID HE CANT. And I suspected that pellet was me. It was who I was.
I had to listen to it, even if it tore me apart. I had to trust myself, if I
couldn't trust Jon.
    "I can't," I said.
    "I think you are just trying
to punish me," he said.
    "I don't think I am."
    "But even if you are, I'll do
anything to come home. If It lakes therapy and living with my mother, that's
what I'll do."
    "It's not a