After the Reunion by Rona Jaffe

into his arms, holding her tightly. “Chris, I didn’t mean that to sound as heartless as it did. I’m sorry. What I mean was that of course I hoped you could help me, but it’s all my fault. None of this has anything to do with you.”
    “Maybe it’s a phase,” she said.
    He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I hope so. I’ll kill myself if it isn’t.”
    “Don’t you dare kill yourself!” she said in horror. “I’d rather have you this way than not at all.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Of course I am. Look, maybe we could go to a marriage counselor, or a sex therapist—privately, of course. I’m sure nothing is alien to them. It’s not supposed to take long either. A few sessions … you talk about it …”
    “I couldn’t do that,” Alexander said quickly. The muscle in his jaw twitched.
    “Nobody would know,” Chris pleaded.
    “I would know.”
    “Maybe it’s a phase,” she said again, finally.
    After she turned off the light they lay there for a long time sleeplessly. Her eyes grew accustomed to the dark and she could see that Alexander was staring at the ceiling. He looked so sad and she felt so sorry for him that she forgot to feel sorry for herself. She reached over and took his hand, and they lay there, side by side, and then he slid his hand from hers and turned over, away from her, and slipped into sleep. He had finally gotten it out, and now it would be better for him. At least now she understood.
    They had been through worse things. Well, perhaps not worse, but different. They loved each other. She had always waited, and somehow things had always worked out eventually. She had to believe that again.
    But three months went by and nothing changed. It was June, and the evenings were light. They were spending weekends in their country house in Connecticut, inviting friends to come with them, filling the long days with pleasant things. The stars were brilliant at night, the air smelled of fresh green life, and the days of sun left Chris feeling sensual and pulsing with desire. Her ripeness seemed an affront to Alexander’s dry celibacy. He was neither charmed nor attracted, and she wondered if other people could see how she felt. It made her ashamed; and sometimes angry, at herself and even at him. Then she would feel guilty about resenting him for a problem he didn’t know how to solve, and tenderness would rush through her until her eyes filled with tears. He was so kind and thoughtful—and so vulnerable. But his affection for her was playful, never sexual, and she wanted more.
    She had discussed it with Annabel, but Annabel’s idea of a solution was not hers. “I think you need a lover,” Annabel had said. “Some charming, marvelous man who makes you feel happy. Nothing serious. Just a fling.”
    Chris was annoyed. “You act like it’s nothing. ‘Have a fling,’ like ‘Have dessert.’”
    “That’s all it should be,” Annabel said cheerfully. “How about Cameron?”
    “My boss ?”
    “Why not? You talk about him enough. He’s married, so he’s safe.”
    “He certainly is safe,” Chris said. “He has a young wife.”
    “So what? I hear she’s totally vapid. A little of that goes a long way.”
    “Forget it,” Chris said.
    A lover: what a joke. She would not even allow herself to imagine it.
    The sales conference for all the Cameron magazines, including the one Chris worked on, was being held in Scottsdale, Arizona, this year. Chris flew there with several people from her office, all of them looking forward to a change of pace even though it would still be work. There would be meetings and presentations, but also time to sit around the pool, cocktail parties, a barbecue, and, the last night, a banquet. Spouses, roommates, and dates were not allowed. Since part of the sales conference fell on the weekend, Alexander was going to the country as usual, having invited some friends. In a way, Chris was relieved to be away from the tension that had pervaded their lives these