C4 antho - Chamber Four

Peacocks ~109~
rent circumstances, I can accept them. I can play the wife,
iron E.’s shirts, proof-read his papers. Meanwhile I can hold
myself apart: private, inviolable.
May 3, 1958. Our new apartment is sunny. V. loves to
run up and down the long hallway. The extra bedroom will
be my study. I think I’ll hang white curtains in the window.
July 18. Today was a perfect, cloudless summer day.
Decided to take V. to the carousel at Central Park. We
walked all the way, and the air smelled of pressed linen. She
chose a white horse, and I took the black one beside her. We
rode the carousel three times. Simple pleasure, what other
people feel all the time. Before we started back I bought us
each an ice cream. When the man handed her the cone, V.
pressed her lips against it. I love today, she said, and I told
her I did too.
Oct. 26. V. and I played tea party and then we played
school and then hospital. When I finally told her I wanted to
read, she lay on the floor and cried. I locked myself in the
bathroom but of course one cannot escape oneself.
December 3. I hope to God E. never reads this. V. horrible
all day, whining about everything. Dragged her shopping
and when I was done she planted herself in the middle
of the aisle and refused to move. No matter what I said she
refused. Finally, I walked away. She didn’t move. I walked
up to the door, but she kept standing there. I waited a few
more minutes then left the store. I thought she’d come running
after me but when I reached the end of the block she
wasn’t there. I watched the cars stream past thinking I
should just do it; she’d be better off without me. How do people
do it? How did Anna Karenina and Emma Bovary find
the courage to do it? Someone honked and I realized where I
was and what I’d done: I’d left my daughter alone in a store.
I ran back and found her up front eating a lollipop. She’d