Page 85 of Perfect Satisfaction

“No problem. It barely took a month for you to move on from me, right?”

Throwing the spilled yogurt into the sink, she grabs her bottle of water and a banana and heads into her office.

“Yeah, talking really helped,” I say aloud to no one. Somehow, someway I’m hoping maybe I can find some common ground with Ursula where we’re not constantly at each other’s throats.

Otherwise I’m afraid one of us won’t survive the year.

CHAPTERFORTY

The single biggest influence in my life was my father.

Who was yours?

—Moore You Want

May

“Hey, Gramps.”

“Hi, son. How are things between you and your Sula?”

My chair creaks comfortably as I lean back in it.It’s probably the only thing that’s going to be during this call, I think wearily. I answer, “Complex.”

I take comfort in the heavy stomping of his feet around the old cabin. “That’s the way a marriage should be.”

“I wouldn’t call what we have a marriage.” The words escape before I can stop them.

The thumping pauses before he demands, “What would you call it?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“Don’t be like me, Arek,” he warns.

A brief smile touches my lips. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to be like.”

“I was a damned idiot, and I won’t stand by and let you become one out of something as foolish as pride.”

I surge to my feet before clearly enunciating, “She. Left. Me.”

“Did you go after her? Did you show her she mattered? Christ, boy, I committed the most grievous sin possible to my marriage and still I did those things. What have you done?”

“What has she done to me?” I fling back even as I silently think about the accusations Sula’s laid at my feet. “She believes I’ve had an affair with Liza.”

Completely ridiculous.

“It’s not ridiculous if your wife believes it’s true!” my grandfather roars in my ear.

I rip the phone away to retain some of my hearing. Then I drop all pretense of being right and lay my emotions on the table. “We were fighting. She claimed walking away from our marriage was the best thing she ever did.” I don’t delve into how much Sula’s words sliced into me.

I don’t have to.

My grandfather heard similar ones.

His sigh shudders from him. “You made a mistake. Did you apologize for it?”

I shake my head before I realize he can’t see me. “No, sir. I haven’t had the opportunity. She—Angela—is Sula’s best friend. She won’t accept it.”

With keen insight that made him a great reporter, he asks, “Because of what you did or because of who you are?”