The Humbling Page #3

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I couldn't have even conceived of

something like that happening, so...

what to do? What to do?

Would you mind cleaning the tables?

Yes. Okay.

First, leave me my drink.

What is wrong with you?

This is no good, you see.

Excuse me sir,

we're doing a survey on reactions.

- Would you like to take part?

- Yeah, sure.

Thank you. That's two points.

Have you ever done

anything like this before?

- No, never.

- Thank you very much.

Do you like it?

That's another two points.

Simon, would you be free

later today for a chat?

Oh, I have other plans.

You know, I might be able

to fit you in next Thursday.

Thursday.

I was just joking.

I was only joking. Of course I'll

be able to have a chat with you.

That was so convincing.

I was the perfect wife

for the perfect 20th century,

East Coast, Ivy-league educated,

well-respected, wealthy husband.

Our house was just outside the city.

And it was the perfect place for us

to celebrate our perfect lives.

And we have two...

perfect children.

We have a five-year-old boy

and a seven-year-old girl

to fit into our perfect lives.

Then one afternoon,

I went into the city to do some shopping

and halfway there I realized

that I had left my wallet

back at the house,

and so I drove back home.

I could only see the top

of my little girl's head

from the back of the sofa

and the TV was on

and the Saturday cartoons were playing,

but that's what she would have been

watching under any circumstances.

- I'm sorry, are you following me?

- Oh, yeah. Sure.

So everything was in order

except I had to wonder why

the little cotton underpants

were lying on the arm of the couch.

Now you probably see

where I'm going with this, but...

when I got to the back of the couch

and I looked over,

I was... I was not prepared to see my

rich and powerful husband's head

out of sight and under

my little girl's skirt.

You know, it's a terrible

thing to say, I know,

but while she's talking,

all I'm thinking about is

maybe this is some kind

of test, you know,

like they're testing me

to see if I buy this stuff.

Is this going to make me better?

I mean, is this part of the therapy?

You know...

the sick talking to the sicker.

And I made some kind of noise,

and my husband's head appeared from...

from... from where it had been,

and... and he looked at me, and he says,

"Oh, hi.

Aren't you off to the city?"

And I stood there frozen,

my heart turning over,

and my throat burning...

and I had nothing to say.

Nothing.

There she is pouring her heart out

and all I can do is think about

how she's doing it.

I mean, how she's performing it.

I don't know, I would have...

I would have...

been a little bit more

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