I thought I had fallen to bits before, but now (in harmony with the apparent collapse of the entire world) my life really turned to smash.
It’s not much of an exaggeration to say that I did not sleep again for the next four months. Which is how we both knew it was very, very over. During that week, when everyone in New York City dropped animosity in deference to the larger tragedy at hand, I still did not go back to my husband. I called my husband to make sure he was safe and we wept together over this disaster, but I did not go to him. Two mornings later I woke up after a troubled night’s sleep to find that hijacked airplanes were crashing into the two tallest buildings of my city, as everything invincible that had once stood together now became a smoldering avalanche of ruin. He let me know that I was a liar and a traitor and that he hated me and would never speak to me again. I tried to talk about our separation, but all we did was fight.
On September 9, 2001, I met with my husband face-to-face for the last time, not realizing that every future meeting would necessitate lawyers between us, to mediate. Then that summer (otherwise known as “the reprieve”) ended. Anyway, it was so easy not to think about all that loss in the midst of such happiness. At this time I was still thinking my divorce might actually proceed gracefully, though I was giving my husband the summer off from talking about it so we could both cool down.
#Eat pray love free online movie#
The first summer of Liz and David looked like the falling-in-love montage of every romantic movie you’ve ever seen, right down to the splashing in the surf and the running hand-in-hand through the golden meadows at twilight. I said, “A man just did my laundry! And he even hand-washed my delicates!” And she repeated: “Oh my God, baby, you are in so much trouble.”) (The first time that happened, I called Susan to report the marvel in astonishment, like I’d just seen a camel using a pay phone. He read books to me, and he did my laundry. We made goals, vows, promises and dinner together. We gave each other the same nickname, so there would be no separation between us.
We had more fun waiting in line together at the Department of Motor Vehicles than most couples have on their honey-moons. We hiked to the top of things, swam to the bottom of other things, planned the journeys across the world we would take together. It was excitement and compatibility like I’d never imagined. In desperate love, it’s always like this, isn’t it? In desperate love, we always invent the characters of our partners, demanding that they be what we need of them, and then feeling devastated when they refuse to perform the role we created in the first place.īut, oh, we had such a great time together during those early months when he was still my romantic hero and I was still his living dream. He was playing a character I had invented, which is somewhat telling. David and I met because he was performing in a play based on short stories I’d written.
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