Spencerville

felt.”
    “I did.”
    “You never wrote a word about
us
.”
    “Neither did you.”
    “I tried… I was afraid. Afraid the letters would stop.”
    “Me, too.”
    She wiped her eyes again and tried to smile. “We’re idiots. We used to talk about everything, then, for over twenty years, we couldn’t even say ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you.’”
    “I know.” He thought a moment, then said, “You know, it’s twenty-five years this month since we said good-bye in your apartment in Columbus.”
    “I know. Hard to believe.” She put her hand on his leg. “After you left, I cried for weeks. Then I got myself together and buried myself in schoolwork. I didn’t date—”
    “It’s all right. Really.”
    “Let me speak. So, anyway, I started to realize that… I started getting angry at you… and when women get angry, they get spiteful.”
    “I didn’t know that.”
    She punched his leg. “Listen. So I went to see this campus shrink, and he was helpful. He said that I was manufacturing an anger toward you because it was the only way I could deal with the possibility of losing you to another woman, or of your getting killed. He said I really loved you, and I should tell you.”
    “I don’t remember that happening.”
    “Because you never got that letter. I ripped it up. Then I wrote it again, and I ripped it up. I did that about a dozen times. Then I realized I was still angry, I was hurt, I felt betrayed. I remembered a line I read somewhere—men who are happy at home do not go to war.”
    “But even happy men get restless.”
    “Well, but you weren’t there to tell me that. And when you called, you sounded distant.”
    “You, too.”
    “I know. I hate telephones. So I got myself all worked up, and I decided to see other men. I want you to know, Keith, I never loved any of them. Not the way I still loved you. In fact, not at all.” She laughed and said, “I got dumped by all of them. They all had the same complaints. Annie, you’re cold, stuck-up, selfish, self-centered, and so on. I was none of those things. I was in love with another man.”
    “You don’t have to tell me any of this.”
    “Sure I do. So I went to Europe, to get away, and I was stunned by the beauty—I mean, where had I been? Spencerville, Bowling Green, and Columbus. And every time I saw something that moved me, I’d say, ‘Keith, look at that. Keith, isn’t that beautiful?’” She put her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry… I haven’t cried in years, and I’ve been crying for weeks now.”
    “It’s okay.”
    She found a tissue in her pocket and blew her nose. “Okay… so then I came home, and my cousin was getting married and I was her maid of honor, and at the reception I met Cliff Baxter.”
    “I heard that from someone who was there. I also heard from my mother that you got engaged to him, and that I was a fool.”
    “Your mother was right. So was my mother. She told me not to marry him. Funny thing is that my father liked him at first. Most guys seemed to like him, and a lot of women did, too. The women liked him because he had a new car every year, he had some charm, and he was good-looking. He still has a new car.”
    “Annie—”
    “Quiet. So I was still sort of inexperienced with men, and I couldn’t judge… I thought, well, there’ll never be another Keith, but Cliff is the boy next door, Cliff has a responsible job, Cliff is draft-exempt, and the other guys are married, or in the Army, and Cliff always liked me. Can you imagine such narrow, immature, small-town thinking?”
    “Sure. This is who we were, Annie.”
    “Yes, it was. So… he asked me to marry him… down on one knee, if you can believe that… I was flattered, I was feeling low about myself, I was stupid.”
    Keith asked her, “Annie, why did you marry him? Really. You have to know it, and you have to say it.”
    She glanced at him, then stood and replied, “To get back at you.”
    He stood also, and they looked at each other.
    She said, “You bastard. Do you know what you did to me? Do you know? I hate you. I hate what you did to me, what you made me into, what I did because of you.”
    “I know. Feel better?”
    She nodded.
    He took her hand, and they sat on the edge of the stream and watched the water. She said, “Thank you. I do feel better.”
    “Me, too.”
    She said, “I don’t hate you anymore.”
    “Maybe just a little.”
    “No, I don’t. I’m angry at