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I mull my options and decide to sit on the edge of the other chaise, facing him. "You keep saying you want to talk, so let's get it over with."
"You make a 'friendly chat' sound like sheer agony. Don't you remember how we used to lie in bed after the kids went to sleep and talk about anything and everything? I miss those chats."
"I'm not getting in bed with you."
He sighs and waves toward my chaise. "Why don't you at least lie down? This isn't supposed to be a torture session."
But it kind of feels that way. I used to love him and love our bedtime chats, but something changed after the kids all left home. We won't ever get back together as a couple, but maybe I should explain for both our sakes. "Look, I know we haven't seen much of each other over the past few years. But I would like us to be friends again, like we were before we started dating and got married."
"I'd like that too. But you were the one who moved out of our house because you needed 'space.' I forgave you for that."
"Yeah, I know. And I'm glad you believe we can be friends." I relax a little, but I still don't feel comfortable stretching out on my chaise. "What happened to us?"
He shrugs. "We stopped talking, and then our marriage gradually crumbled. I know I didn't try hard enough to fix things, and I regret that."
"Me too. Once the kids were out of the house, it seemed like we forgot how to communicate."
"Let's not turn this into a pseudo-therapy session."
I fold my arms over my chest. "Why wouldn't you go to couples therapy with me? I was trying to work things out."
"Yeah, that's the problem.Youwere trying to work things out."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"That you didn't really want couples therapy. You wanted an hour of bashing me so you could feel better about yourself."
Oh, God, we're falling into the same trap all over again. Bickering doesn't help anything. "Therapy didn't work for us. I know we both agree on that. But something deeper was coming between us, and I felt like you didn't care about figuring out what the problem was or trying to fix it."
"That's bullshit. I tried to make you happy, but you wouldn't let me in. How can I help if we don't talk to each other?"
My attempt to move past the bickering has blown up in my face. I don't blame Craig for that. We both made bad decisions. "I want us to be friends. That means we don't need to argue about who's to blame for this or that. We just need to be cordial with each other. Can you manage that?"
He rolls his eyes. "Of course I can."
I really don't miss the eye-rolling. Craig is the only person I've ever met who does that.
"What now?" he asks. "We made our peace agreement."
"And that means we're done." I get up and give him a polite smile. "See you around the island. I hope you have a wonderful vacation."
I turn to walk away.
"Where are you going? We aren't done talking."
"Yes, we are." I glance over my shoulder at him. "We agreed to be casual friends, and there's nothing left to say."
"That's crap." He jumps off his chaise. "We're supposed to hash out our differences."
"When did we agree to that?"
He spreads his arms wide. "The whole time we've been talking. What did you think I wanted? To give you a friendship bracelet? I want to get back together."
My eyes have begun to burn, and I think that's because they're bulging. Craig has lost his mind. I experience a bizarre impulse to hit him with a palm frond repeatedly, but I'm too old to behave that way. So instead, I roll my shoulders back and clear my throat. "We are never reconciling, Craig. I'm sorry. I will always care about you, but not in a romantic way. It's time we both moved on---for good."
This time, I do walk away and don't look back.
As I make my way back to the resort proper, I keep getting flashbacks of our marriage. But I don't recall the arguments. No, my mind insists on tormenting me with memories of all the good times---the backyard barbecues, the kids' birthdays, Christmas mornings, the way Craig used to brush hair away from my cheek, the way we made love like it was the first time every time. The sex wasn't wild or even particularly imaginative. But it felt like we were in sync, creating a sensual rhythm all our own.
