The Increment: A Novel - By David Ignatius Page 0,71
whiskey and staring at the empty glass until they poured the wine. He acted as if he wanted to get drunk. But he was tongue-tied, for some reason. What was going on? Andrea wondered. She was frightened.
And then her face fell, because it was obvious: he was going to ask her for a divorce. He had been so far away from her the past few months, taking trips he didn’t even bother to explain, why hadn’t she seen it coming? He didn’t know how to be unfaithful, he was so bad at it. But she had let him slip away to wherever he was now, pounding down the drinks in this too-expensive restaurant until he could find the right words. Andrea wondered what she would say, whether she would cry, what she would do if he left her. Men still flirted with her; she could find another husband if it came to that. She didn’t want to stay married to this man if he didn’t love her anymore. She was as proud as he was.
Harry sat across from her, staring at his glass. He was fumbling for words, trying to frame the question he wanted to resolve. He took her hand in his, but she pulled it back.
“I don’t know how to say this, Andrea. It will probably sound crazy. But I’m trying to understand what loyalty means. I need to talk to you about it.”
“So talk, Harry,” she answered. “But don’t play games. Loyalty is simple. It’s about being true to the people you care about.”
Harry took another swig of wine. Her mood was sharper than he expected, but he couldn’t blame her. This was so hard to talk about.
“But what if your loyalty gets tangled up? You get involved with people you’re not supposed to?”
Her hands were trembling, and she put them under the table so that he wouldn’t see.
“You have to be true to yourself, Harry. And to your values. That’s all. If you can’t, well…” She didn’t finish the sentence.
“That’s what I think. But I’m trying to decide what it means.”
A tear was rolling down her cheek. She brushed it away. She really didn’t want to cry.
“Oh God, Harry. What’s wrong? Just tell me.”
“I can’t,” he said. He was looking at his wineglass again. He was so absorbed in his own dilemma that he didn’t understand how she was hearing his words, until he looked up and saw the trembling lip and the eyes brimming with tears.
He laughed. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help it. Her eyes flashed, and then softened.
“Oh Jesus, Andrea! This isn’t about you and me.” He took her hand again.
“It’s not?” She wiped the tears from her cheeks with her napkin.
“God, no. It’s about work. Christ, I’m sorry. I must have scared the hell out of you.”
“I thought you wanted a divorce.”
“From you? You’re all I have left.”
She took a deep breath. She looked at her nails. They were a fiery red. “Pour me another drink, Harry. And then let’s talk about your problem at work.”
And so he did. At least as much as he could explain, without telling her things he should not say. He took off his jacket and loosened his tie. As he drank more, he got a glow on his cheeks, talking with animation in the way he used to when they were dating.
“I’m a loyal person,” Harry said. “I’ve loved the agency every day I worked there. I loved it even when it didn’t love me.”
“I know that, Harry.”
“I did what they asked, even when I knew it was wrong. That year in Baghdad, I saw things that were crazy. I sent cables. When they didn’t listen, I sent more cables. But I did what they asked me to do, always. That was what I signed up for.” He paused and looked away. “But then something broke.”
Her hand reached for his, the red nails folded around his clenched fist.
“When Alex died, I couldn’t be a good soldier anymore. It wasn’t just our son, you know, it was all those other kids. We knew it wouldn’t work. We fucking knew it. All of us. But we let it happen. People at the agency cut me slack. They gave me the Iran job, made me a division chief. They thought I was still the good soldier deep down. But I’m not. And I’m not going to do it again.”
“What are you talking about, sweetheart?”
He looked into her eyes. He wasn’t debating it anymore. He had made a