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I
moved
right
in
with
David
after
I
left
my
husband
.
He
was
-
is
-
a
gorgeous
young
man
.
A
born
New
Yorker
,
an
actor
and
writer
,
with
those
brown
liquid
-
center
Italian
eyes
that
have
always
(
have
I
already
mentioned
this
?
)
unstitched
me
.
Street
-
smart
,
independent
,
vegetarian
,
foulmouthed
,
spiritual
,
seductive
.
A
rebel
poet
-
Yogi
from
Yonkers
.
God
’
s
own
sexy
rookie
shortstop
.
Bigger
than
life
.
Bigger
than
big
.
Or
at
least
he
was
to
me
.
The
first
time
my
best
friend
Susan
heard
me
talking
about
him
,
she
took
one
look
at
the
high
fever
in
my
face
and
said
to
me
,
"
Oh
my
God
,
baby
,
you
are
in
so
much
trouble
.
"
David
and
I
met
because
he
was
performing
in
a
play
based
on
short
stories
I
’
d
written
.
He
was
playing
a
character
I
had
invented
,
which
is
somewhat
telling
.
In
desperate
love
,
it
’
s
always
like
this
,
isn
’
t
it
?
In
desperate
love
,
we
always
invent
the
characters
of
our
partners
,
demanding
that
they
be
what
we
need
of
them
,
and
then
feeling
devastated
when
they
refuse
to
perform
the
role
we
created
in
the
first
place
.
But
,
oh
,
we
had
such
a
great
time
together
during
those
early
months
when
he
was
still
my
romantic
hero
and
I
was
still
his
living
dream
.
It
was
excitement
and
compatibility
like
I
’
d
never
imagined
.
We
invented
our
own
language
.
We
went
on
day
trips
and
road
trips
.
We
hiked
to
the
top
of
things
,
swam
to
the
bottom
of
other
things
,
planned
the
journeys
across
the
world
we
would
take
together
.
We
had
more
fun
waiting
in
line
together
at
the
Department
of
Motor
Vehicles
than
most
couples
have
on
their
honey
-
moons
.
We
gave
each
other
the
same
nickname
,
so
there
would
be
no
separation
between
us
.
We
made
goals
,
vows
,
promises
and
dinner
together
.
He
read
books
to
me
,
and
he
did
my
laundry
.
(
The
first
time
that
happened
,
I
called
Susan
to
report
the
marvel
in
astonishment
,
like
I
’
d
just
seen
a
camel
using
a
pay
phone
.
I
said
,
"
A
man
just
did
my
laundry
!
And
he
even
hand
-
washed
my
delicates
!
"
And
she
repeated
:
"
Oh
my
God
,
baby
,
you
are
in
so
much
trouble
.
"
)
The
first
summer
of
Liz
and
David
looked
like
the
falling
-
in
-
love
montage
of
every
romantic
movie
you
’
ve
ever
seen
,
right
down
to
the
splashing
in
the
surf
and
the
running
hand
-
in
-
hand
through
the
golden
meadows
at
twilight
.
At
this
time
I
was
still
thinking
my
divorce
might
actually
proceed
gracefully
,
though
I
was
giving
my
husband
the
summer
off
from
talking
about
it
so
we
could
both
cool
down
.
Anyway
,
it
was
so
easy
not
to
think
about
all
that
loss
in
the
midst
of
such
happiness
.
Then
that
summer
(
otherwise
known
as
"
the
reprieve
"
)
ended
.
On
September
9
,
2001
,
I
met
with
my
husband
face
-
to
-
face
for
the
last
time
,
not
realizing
that
every
future
meeting
would
necessitate
lawyers
between
us
,
to
mediate
.
We
had
dinner
in
a
restaurant
.
I
tried
to
talk
about
our
separation
,
but
all
we
did
was
fight
.
He
let
me
know
that
I
was
a
liar
and
a
traitor
and
that
he
hated
me
and
would
never
speak
to
me
again
.
Two
mornings
later
I
woke
up
after
a
troubled
night
’
s
sleep
to
find
that
hijacked
airplanes
were
crashing
into
the
two
tallest
buildings
of
my
city
,
as
everything
invincible
that
had
once
stood
together
now
became
a
smoldering
avalanche
of
ruin
.
I
called
my
husband
to
make
sure
he
was
safe
and
we
wept
together
over
this
disaster
,
but
I
did
not
go
to
him
.
During
that
week
,
when
everyone
in
New
York
City
dropped
animosity
in
deference
to
the
larger
tragedy
at
hand
,
I
still
did
not
go
back
to
my
husband
.
Which
is
how
we
both
knew
it
was
very
,
very
over
.
It
’
s
not
much
of
an
exaggeration
to
say
that
I
did
not
sleep
again
for
the
next
four
months
.
I
thought
I
had
fallen
to
bits
before
,
but
now
(
in
harmony
with
the
apparent
collapse
of
the
entire
world
)
my
life
really
turned
to
smash
.
I
wince
now
to
think
of
what
I
imposed
on
David
during
those
months
we
lived
together
,
right
after
9
/
11
and
my
separation
from
my
husband
.
Imagine
his
surprise
to
discover
that
the
happiest
,
most
confident
woman
he
’
d
ever
met
was
actually
-
when
you
got
her
alone
-
a
murky
hole
of
bottomless
grief
.
Once
again
,
I
could
not
stop
crying
.
This
is
when
he
started
to
retreat
,
and
that
’
s
when
I
saw
the
other
side
of
my
passionate
romantic
hero
-
the
David
who
was
solitary
as
a
castaway
,
cool
to
the
touch
,
in
need
of
more
personal
space
than
a
herd
of
American
bison
.
David
’
s
sudden
emotional
back
-
stepping
probably
would
’
ve
been
a
catastrophe
for
me
even
under
the
best
of
circumstances
,
given
that
I
am
the
planet
’
s
most
affectionate
life
-
form
(
something
like
a
cross
between
a
golden
retriever
and
a
barnacle
)
,
but
this
was
my
very
worst
of
circumstances
.
I
was
despondent
and
dependent
,
needing
more
care
than
an
armful
of
premature
infant
triplets
.
His
withdrawal
only
made
me
more
needy
,
and
my
neediness
only
advanced
his
withdrawals
,
until
soon
he
was
retreating
under
fire
of
my
weeping
pleas
of
,
"
Where
are
you
going
?
What
happened
to
us
?
"
(
Dating
tip
:
Men
LOVE
this
.
)
