happening.
Just the same, she could not resist answering, "Oh, really! That isn't usually the reason you give for not being at home. You're always claiming how all-fired important it is for you to be here at the airport---if necessary, twenty-four hours a day. So many important things---or so you say---are always happening."
Mel said curtly, "Tonight they are."
"But not other times?"
"If you're asking if I've sometimes stayed here in preference to coming home, the answer's yes."
"At least this is the first time you've been honest about it."
"Even when I do come home, you insist on dragging me to some stupid stuffed-shirt affair like tonight's."
His wife said angrily, "So you never did intend to come tonight!"
"Yes, I did. I told you so. But..."
"But nothing!" Cindy could feel the short fuse of her temper burning. "You counted on something turning up to prevent you, the way it always does. So that you could weasel out and have an alibi; so you could convince yourself, even if you don't convince me, because I think you're a liar and a fake."
"Take it easy, Cindy."
"I won't take it easy."
They glared at each other.
What happened to them, Mel wondered, that they had come to this?---squabbling like ill-bred children; dealing in pettiness; exchanging vicious gibes; and in all of it, he himself no better than Cindy. Something happened when they quarreled which demeaned them both. He wondered if it was always this way when things were sour with two people who had lived together for a long time. Was it because they knew, and therefore could probe painfully, each other's weaknesses? He had once heard someone say that a disintegrating marriage brought out the worst in both partners. In his own and Cindy's case it was certainly true.
He tried to speak more reasonably. "I don't think I'm a liar, or a fake. But maybe you have a point about my counting on something turning up, enough to keep me away from the social things, which you know I hate. I just hadn't thought of it that way."
When Cindy remained silent, he went on, "You can believe it or not, but I did intend to meet you tonight downtown---at least I think so. Maybe I didn't really, the way you said; I don't know. But I do know that I didn't arrange the storm, and, since it started, a lot of things have happened that---for real this time---have kept me here." He nodded toward the outer office. "One of them is that woman sitting out there. I told Lieutenant Ordway I'd talk to her. She seems to be in some sort of trouble."
"Your wife's in trouble," Cindy said. "The woman out there can wait."
He nodded. "All right."
"We've had it," Cindy said. "You and me. Haven't we?"
He waited before answering, not wanting to be hasty, yet realizing that now this had come up, it would be foolish to avoid the truth. "Yes," he said finally. "I'm afraid we have."
Cindy shot back, "If only you'd change! If you'd see things my way. It's always been what you want to do, or don't. If you'd only do what I want..."
"Like being out six nights a week in black tie, and white tie on the seventh?"
"Well, why not?" Emotionally, imperiously, Cindy faced him. He bad always admired her in that kind of spunky mood, even when it was directed at himself. Even now...
"I guess I could say the same kind of thing," he told her. "About changing; all that. The trouble is, people don't change---not in what they are basically; they adapt. It's that---two people adapting to each other---that marriage is supposed to be about."
"The adapting doesn't have to be one-sided."
"It hasn't been with us," Mel argued, "no matter what you think. I've tried to adapt; I guess you have, too. I don't know who's made the most effort; obviously I think it's me, and you think it's you. The main thing is: though we've given it plenty of time to work, it hasn't."
Cindy said slowly, "I suppose you're right. About the last bit, anyway. I've been thinking the same way too." She stopped, then added, "I think I want a divorce."
"You'd better be quite sure. It's fairly important." Even now, Mel thought, Cindy was hedging about a decision, waiting for him to help her with it. If what they had been saying were less serious, he would have smiled.
"I'm sure," Cindy said. She repeated, with more conviction. "Yes, I'm sure."
Mel said quietly, "Then I think it's the right decision for us both."
For