The Blue Journal by L.T. Graham Page A

at her now. He reached up with the thumb and middle finger of his left hand and began slowly massaging the corners of his eyes, temporarily blinding himself to her grief. Now if only I were deaf , he thought. Or better yet, if I had the ability to disappear . “This isn’t a discussion,” he finally said.
    â€œLook at me,” she answered quietly, but when he did not remove his hand from his face she growled, “Look at me, damnit.” He slowly raised his head, watching as she used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears that filled her eyes and stained her cheeks. “I’m calm, all right? I’m calm now, and I want to hear what you have to say. I really do. All I want to know is the truth. Whatever it is, at least allow me the dignity of knowing the truth.”
    Thomas drew in another deep breath and exhaled slowly through pursed lips, as if reluctantly blowing out the candles on a cake for a birthday he preferred to ignore. He was a handsome man, with dark wavy hair, dark eyes, and a dark Mediterranean complexion. At the moment, however, under yet another of his wife’s verbal assaults, he felt as if all of the color had been drained from his face. “I love you very much, Fran.”
    â€œThomas, I told you . . .” she cut him off, but this time he was the one who raised his voice.
    â€œCome on, Fran, you asked me to explain my feelings. Just listen for a minute.”
    She nodded slowly.
    He said, “I know you think this has something to do with love. That I don’t have the same feelings toward you that I used to have. Or maybe that I love someone else. But none of that is true.” He hesitated before adding, “Then you imagine I’m having all these affairs.”
    â€œWell aren’t you?” she demanded.
    He shook his head as if deflecting an assault. “I hate these discussions. They never get us anywhere except a bigger argument.” He shook his head again, hoping she would interrupt him so he wouldn’t have to go on, but she remained silent. “Look, men get older, they start to worry about death. In your twenties and thirties you feel immortal. You feel like nothing can happen to you, you’re invincible. Sure, business goes up and down, careers take the wild swings they take, but you always figure you’re going to get through it. Then you hit forty and you realize you’ve lost a step. You realize it’s been ages since the last time the guys got together and played a game of softball or touch football. Your kids are growing up, but you’re just growing old. The hair is going, the muscle tone is gone, you exercise a couple of times a week, not to stay trim, just to keep from getting flabby. And then one day it hits you. You’re on the down side of the mountain. You’d be a fool not to realize you’re deep into middle age.” He paused, but she did not respond. “You start worrying about what you missed, what you still might miss if you don’t start to take every opportunity there is to live. I mean really live, and experience things.”
    â€œLike screwing young women?” she asked as politely as if she were asking him about the weather.
    â€œJesus, Fran. Is that all you’re getting out of this?”
    â€œYou must be joking,” she replied. She was actually smiling now. “This is the best you can do? A speech about how life is short and you’re struggling with your mortality? You must think I’m some kind of moron.”
    Thomas was truly offended. “I’m expressing my deepest fears and you’re saying it’s all bullshit?”
    Fran shook her head vigorously. “Of course not. I actually believe every word of it. But so what? Where’s the big revelation? I’m growing older, too. What about me? We were supposed to do that together, wasn’t that the deal?”
    He wrung his hands but did not answer.
    â€œYou’re a