Page 73 of Saltwater

Finally Richard said: “I don’t want it to be like this.”

She hated that line. It was a line said by people who had happily followed a path as far as they could, only to discover they didn’t like the destination. He had made itlike this.

“Let’s just take a step back,” he said. “Let’s talk to someone. I know Naomi had a name. Let’s not throw this away over a few bad days.”

“A few baddays?” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he said. And she could hear it then, the challenge in his voice. Richard wouldn’t admit it, that they had been crumbling for years.

“I want a divorce,” she said, her voice low. Maybe it was almost a whisper. She was still testing out the words.I want a divorce.

She could make out his outline in the darkness, shaking his head.

“No,” he said. “No divorce.”

“It’s not up to you, Richard. I’m filing when I get home. Our attorneys can work out the details.” Her voice was firmer now.

“No. We can go to counseling. We can move to New York. We can figure this out—”

“It’s too late,” Sarah said. Because it was true.

It was too late.

“We can’t get a divorce, Sarah.” He sounded tired.

“Of course we can. People do it all the time. We have a prenup. There’s nothing to discuss.”

“It will be too public. Everyone will talk. There will be custody battles and financial filings and—”

She cut him off. “I want to keep it quiet, Richard. I do.”

“Sarah—” Her name was a plea.

“I want a divorce,” she said. “I won’t accept another outcome. Not anymore.”

Saying it out loud released something that she hadn’t known she’d been holding on to. Not a heaviness, no. An anger. A fury.

“We just can’t. I can’t put the family through that.”

“Through what? We can simply sign and be done with it. We probably should have done it a year ago if I’m being honest.” Sarah didn’t understand why he kept pushing back. She wasn’t allowed the play, but she also wasn’t allowed a divorce. Somehow, the two were related, but Sarah couldn’t quite put the pieces together. The exhaustion of the day and the drinks had dulled her, made her slower.

“There are so many filings,” Richard said. He took a step closer to her. “Maybe we could just separate. Live apart. There’s no need to go through every part of a divorce, is there? People will scrutinize all of it. Every paper that gets submitted to the court—”

“Why do the filings matter, Richard? It’s just a formality.”

Through the darkness, Sarah could see his body stiffen.

“I can’t,” he said. It came out strangled, desperate.

“Of course you can!”

It didn’t make sense. Richard knew there was nothing to save. Today alone she had shot him with a speargun, rehashed her affair with hisbrother,been told by her agent that he was trying to sue. The facts washed over her, settled into place. Sarah realized it wasn’tthemRichard was trying to save. It washim.

The play, the divorce filings, the publicness of it all: he was protecting himself, he was protecting the family.

“The play,” she said, taking a step back. “The divorce. You don’t want them because they’ll reveal the truth. Isn’t that right?”

Richard positioned himself above her; they were standing on the steep slope just below the view.

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