GOLDEN YEARS - THE SEQUEL

by Roger Poppen

"I read your story."  His wife's tone was flat, controlled.

Arthur looked up from his magazine.  "Really?  Which one?" He knew, but feigned ignorance in an instinctual reflex of self-preservation, like a man going over a cliff grabbing at a tuft of grass.  "I've written lots of stories."

"The one you published on the internet."  Sue seated herself in the chair opposite.  Her gaze was steady but the expression on her face, outside the circle of lamplight, was hard to read.

"Oh.  How'd you find out about it?"

Arthur meant to indicate mild surprise at her interest.  When he first started writing fiction a few years ago, as a retirement activity, he tried to solicit his wife's opinions.  She protested that she didn't like to read, and when she did look at a few chapters of his fledgling novel, her comments were unhelpful. Arthur found online writing groups for instruction, support, and feedback.  He plumbed his life experiences, writing about aging and difficult family relationships.  It worked for John Updike, why not himself?  Seeking validation for his efforts, he submitted pieces to contests and online literary magazines.  'Golden Years' as his first published story.  Although pleased with his accomplishment, he had not mentioned it to Sue to avoid the confrontation he now faced.

She ignored his question.  "How could you write about us like that?  I am so angry.  It's humiliating."  Her voice remained calm but with a sharp edge.

"It's fiction, a story."  He tried a soothing smile.  "It's not about us.  Directly.  It's about a lot of people, a stage of life."

"Oh, come off it!  You describe my mother and father.  You've got a teenage daughter like ours.  Our age difference.  And me, what'd you call me, overweight and overwrought?  That really hurt."

Those were not his exact words but she had caught the gist of it.  Best not to correct her.  "There's lots of differences," he protested.  "The characters are a lot younger than us, my mother isn't dead, you're not pregnant."  He tried the smile again.

Sue shook her head.  "This guy wants a divorce.  He thinks his wife is crap and wants out, but feels trapped because she's pregnant.  If you feel like that about me, feel trapped, then I don't want to live with you.  There's nothing to stop you from getting out.  I'd rather do it now, while I'm still young enough to find someone else."

She was like a boxer, starting out with jabs and now throwing heavy leather.  Against the ropes, stunned, he inhaled, licked his  lips, opened his mouth but nothing came out.  "I, I . . ."

"I'm serious.  Why not get divorced?  Why do you want to stay married to me?"

Arthur's head roared like Niagara Falls, thoughts rushing past in a foaming, frothy mist.  There were lots of reasons not to divorce: ill effects on their daughter; losing half the property and stocks

he'd inherited from his father; statistics that married men live longer; lawyer fees; the sheer messiness of the process.  He was at least lucid enough to keep from voicing any of this.  He finally came out with, "You want to find someone else?"

Her eyebrows arched and she exhaled audibly.  "If I was single?  Yes, of course.  There's lots of people out there.  I  don't believe in that one-and-only business.  You'd find someone, too."

They'd never had a true-love, soul-mate feeling about each other, even early in their relationship, and had scoffed at such romantic nonsense.  Their marriage was based on a rational calculation of compatible likes and dislikes.  After all these years, the balance sheet certainly was in the red.  Sue had become moody and withdrawn.  But the idea of finding another woman, a woman who would even look at a man his age, was unthinkable.

He made the main character in 'Golden Years' younger than himself so he could imagine rosy prospects after divorce.  This set up an ironic end to the story.  It was a literary device. Just like he'd given the men in the story no names, while all the women had names, to show their power over men.  How to explain such literary pretensions?  He was too clever by half.

Arthur leaned forward, the magazine slipping to the floor, his forearms braced on his thighs and his shoulders hunched.  "No," he said.  "No, I'd never marry, remarry.  I can't imagine it."

A scornful chuckle came from her throat.  "Sure you would."

Is this what things had come to?  Whether he, like her, would remarry after divorce?  Was this her plan?  Maybe she had wanted a divorce for years, and her withdrawal, treating him with indifference and disdain, was a plot to provoke him into doing something desperate.  She had seized on this story like she'd caught him with another woman.  He had sullied their marriage and

now must pay the price.

Arthur looked up at the face in the dim light, searching behind that mask of age and rage for the woman he'd known long ago.  "No," he said slowly.  "No, I don't want to find anybody else.  I don't want a divorce.  We married for better or worse; this just happens to be one of the 'worse' times."

She snorted.  "And what's going to make it 'better?'  You still haven't answered my question.  Why do you want to stay together?"

"Because . . . because, I love you."

Her eyes glistened a bit, and the diamond ring sparkled on her hand reaching into the lamplight to pat his knee.  "Well, that's a start," she said.

I am an emeritus professor at Southern Illinois University. Since retiring, I've taken up fiction writing. 'Golden Years' was my first published story (LSS, Sept. '06), which led to this sequel.  Contact Roger.