“I understand that, but I managed the story in Harlem without shortchanging them. I could do others like it.”

“I doubt that. And I just don't see the sense in it. You did all that, you had some fun, and you grew up. You can't go back to all that now. You're not a kid in your twenties with no responsibilities. You're a grown woman with a family and a husband.”

“I don't see why one has to preclude the other, as long as I keep my priorities straight. You and the kids come first, the rest would have to work around you.”

“You know, sitting here listening to you, I'm beginning to wonder about your priorities. What you're saying to me sounds incredibly selfish. All you want to do is have a good time, like your little friend, who's running around cheating on her husband because her kids bore her. Is that it? Do we bore you?” He looked highly insulted, and very angry. She had disrupted his whole evening. But he was threatening her self-esteem, and her future.

“Of course you don't bore me. And I'm not Gail.”

“What the hell is she after anyway?” He was cutting his steak viciously as he asked her. “She can't be that oversexed. What is she trying to do, just embarrass her husband?”

“I don't think so. I think she's lonely and dissatisfied, and I feel sorry for her. I'm not telling you what she does is right, Doug. I think she's panicked. She's forty-eight years old, she gave up a terrific career, and she can't see anything in her future except car pools. You don't know what that's like. You have a career. You never gave up anything. You just added to it.”

“Is that how you feel? The way Gail does?” He actually looked worried.

“Not really. I'm a lot happier than she is. But I think about my future too. What happens when the kids are gone? What do I do then? Run around taking pictures of kids I don't know in the playground?”

“You can figure that one out later. You'll have kids at home for the next nine years. That's plenty of time to figure out a game plan. Maybe we'll move back to the city, and you can go to museums.” That was it? All of it? Museums? The thought of it made her shiver. She wanted a lot more than that in her future. From that standpoint, Gail was absolutely right. And in nine years, India wanted to be doing a lot more than killing time. But in nine years it would be that much harder to get back into a career, if Doug would even let her. And it didn't sound like it from what he was saying. “The kids are much too young for you to be thinking about this now. Maybe you could get a job in a gallery or something, once they grow up. Why worry about it?”

“And do what? Look at the photographs other people took, when I could have done it better? You're right, I'm busy now. But what about later?” In the past twenty-four hours, the whole question had come into sharper focus for her.

“Don't borrow problems. And stop listening to that woman. I told you, she's a troublemaker. She's unhappy, and angry, and she's just looking to cause trouble.”

“She doesn't know what she's looking for,” India said sadly. “She's looking for love, because Jeff doesn't excite her.” It was probably too much to admit to him, she realized, but since he seemed to know about her wandering anyway, it didn't seem to make much difference.

“It's ridiculous to be looking for love at our age,” Doug said sternly, taking a sip of his wine, and glaring at his wife across the table. “What the hell is she thinking?”

“I don't think she's really wrong, I just think she's going about it the wrong way,” India said calmly. “She says she's depressed about never being in love again. I guess she and Jeff aren't crazy about each other.”

“Who is, after twenty years of marriage?” he said, looking annoyed again. What India had just said sounded ridiculous to him. “You can't expect to feel at forty-five or fifty the way you did at twenty.”

“No, but you can feel other things. If you're lucky, maybe even more than you felt in the beginning.”

“That's a lot of romantic nonsense, India, and you know it,” he said firmly, as she listened to him with a growing sense of panic.

“Do you think it's nonsense to still be in love with your spouse after fifteen or twenty years?” India couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“I don't think anyone is ‘in love’ anymore by then. And no one with any sense expects to be either.”

“What can you expect?” India asked in a strangled voice, as she set her glass down on the table and looked at her husband.

“Companionship, decency, respect, someone to take care of the kids. Someone you can rely on. That's about all anyone should expect from marriage.”

“You can get a maid, or a dog, to provide the same things for you.”

“What do you think one should expect? Hearts and flowers and valentines? You know better than that, India. Don't tell me you believe in all that. If you do, I'll know you've been spending a lot more time talking to Gail than you ever told me.”

“I'm not expecting miracles, Doug. But I sure want more than just ‘someone to rely on,’ and you should want a lot more than just ‘someone to take care of the children.’ Is that all our marriage means to you?” They were rapidly getting down to specifics.

“We have something that's worked damn well for seventeen years, and it'll continue working, if you don't start rocking the boat too hard, with careers, and assignments and trips to Korea, and a lot of crap about ‘being in love’ after seventeen years. I don't think anyone is capable of that, and I don't think anyone has a right to expect it.” She felt as though she had been slapped as she looked at him, and was horrified by what he was saying.

“As a matter of fact, Doug, I do expect it. I always have, and I had no idea you didn't. I expect you to be ‘in love’ with me till the day you die, or there's no point in our marriage. Just as I'm in love with you, and always have been. Why do you think I stick around? Because our life is so exciting? It isn't. It's about as mundane as it gets, as boring as it can be at times, but I stick around because I love you.”

“Well, that's good to hear. I was beginning to wonder. But I don't think anyone should have a lot of crazy illusions about romance at this point. Being married to someone just isn't romantic.”

“Why not?” She decided to go for broke. He had already shattered most of her dreams in one night, why not push it all the way? What difference did it make now? “It could be, couldn't it? Maybe people don't try hard enough, or spend enough time realizing how lucky they are to have each other. Maybe if Jeff spent more time doing that, maybe then Gail wouldn't be running all over the state having lunch and God knows what else with other people's husbands.”

“I'm sure that has to do with her integrity and morality more than any failure on his part.”

“Don't be so sure. Maybe he's just plain stupid,” India snapped at him.

“No, she is, to have a lot of girlish illusions about romance and ? love you's' at this point. India, that's bullshit, and you know it.”

She was silent for a long moment and then nodded. She was afraid that if she spoke at all, she would burst into tears, or just get up and walk out, but she didn't. She sat there until they finished the meal, making small talk with him. She had heard enough that night to last her for a lifetime. In a single evening, he had challenged everything she believed, and smashed all her dreams about what marriage meant to him, and more importantly, what she did. She was someone he could rely on, who took care of his children. And all she could think of on the way home was that maybe she should call Raoul and take the assignment in Korea. But no matter how angry she was at him, or how disappointed she was by what he'd said, she wouldn't do that to her children.

“I had a nice time tonight,” he said as they drove into their driveway, and she tried not to think of the knot in her stomach. “I'm glad we got the career issue behind us. I think you understand now how I feel about it. I think you should call Raoul next week and take your name off their roster.” It was as though, having expressed himself, he now expected her to simply carry out his orders. The oracle had spoken. She had never known him to be like this before, but she had never challenged him on it in fourteen years either.

“I know how you feel about a lot of things,” she said softly, as they sat in the car for a minute, and he turned the lights off.

“Don't be silly about that nonsense Gail filled your head with, India. It's a lot of garbage she throws around to excuse her own behavior, and if she can get you riled up about it too, all the better. Stay away from her. She just upsets you.” But Gail hadn't. He had. He had said things she knew would trouble her for years, and she would never forget them. He wasn't in love with her, if he ever had been. In his opinion, love was something for fools and children. “We all have to grow up sooner or later,” he said, opening the car door and looking over his shoulder at her. “The trouble is, Gail didn't.”

“No, but you did,” India said miserably, and just as he hadn't the night before, or that night in the restaurant, he didn't get it. In a single night, he had put their marriage on the line, tossed her career out the window like so much fluff, and essentially told her he didn't love her, or at least wasn't in love with her. And in light of that, she didn't know what to think or feel now, or how to go on as they were before, unaffected by it.

“I like the restaurant, don't you?” he asked as they walked into the house. It was quiet, and India suspected that only Jessica would still be awake. The others would be sleeping. They had spent a long time over dinner. It had taken him several hours to destroy the last, and most cherished, of her illusions. “I thought the food was better than usual,” he went on, oblivious to the damage he'd done. He was like the iceberg that had hit the Titanic. But knowing what he'd done, she couldn't help wondering if the ship would sink now. It was hard to believe it wouldn't. Or was she simply to go on, being reliable and steadfast and a good “companion.” That was what he wanted, and what he expected her to give him. It didn't leave much room for her heart, her soul, and nothing with which to feed them.