She had been staring at the ceiling and hadnt noticed that hed taken off the rest of his clothes. He threw back the covers and dropped onto the bed beside her, his hands groping her body, not tenderly but roughly, greedily impatient. The way he always started.

She clenched her jaws, thinking, I feel a glow and tingle in my body and I want him. But I really hate him more and more each time. I resent his power over me. Damn him! He makes my own body fight his struggle to possess me. Damn him!

"No, Bart. I don't want to."

"Yes you do."

"I don't. I really don't. Especially when were in the middle of arguing."

"The hell with that! I'm tired of your arguing and nagging. I want it. Right now! Youre my wife. I have a right to it no matter how you feel."

Even though they were still struggling physically, she could see irony in his demand. Odd for him to realize that I might have any feelings, even negative ones.

His hands and body were more demanding now. She struggled to escape and kept repeating in a low voice, "No. I won't Bart. Not now!" The struggle now had become as much a struggle with her own desire as it was a struggle to resist his desire. A struggle in which, considering their relationship, he could be the only winner.

Later, after he was finished with her, she could not think of anything except hating him, and at the same time, hating herself. Hate for Bart, not just for what he had just done, but for what he was and would always be. Hate for herself that she could be thrilled physically by him and enjoy sex with him even while hating him so thoroughly. Oh, well, she thought, he'll drop right off to sleep and I can pretend he's not here.

But Bart had difficulty in finding sleep this time. He stirred on the bed beside her and could not seem to get comfortable. "Ann?" he asked. "Are you asleep?"

"No. What's on your mind now?"

"Oh, I was just thinking. We always seem to be running out of money. There never seems to be enough."

"I thought that I was the only one who ever worried about that. It never has seemed to bother you before."

"I guess I never really had to worry about it. When I was growing up, we were not really, really rich. I guess a lot of people thought that we were. But there always was enough money. Now, ever since weve been married, it's like we always are two steps away from bankruptcy."

"We have enough money. It's just that you can't seem to stay away from gambling, drinking and women. I never tried to figure it out exactly but I always feel that everything you earn goes just for your pleasures. I feel like I'm paying most all the bills and expenses from my salary. Thank God I got that raise last year."

"I have lots of expenses at work. You know the old saying 'it takes money to make money'."

She grunted contemptuously. He's always using that one. That old, tired one. Why bother to argue any more about it? At least, not tonight.

She was silent. Bart stirred again, restlessly. "Why don't you try to get another raise?" he asked. "That boss of yours seems more like a friend than a boss. What's his name? Keller?"

"He's Dr. Walter Keller. You know that; I've told you enough times."

"Well, why don't you? We could sure use the money."

"I think I'm already one of the highest paid Department Secretaries at St. Denis."

"Aren't you good enough to expect more?"

"I'm realistic enough to know I shouldn't expect another raise for another two or three years."

"Don't make me laugh. If you tried the right way, you would get it right away."

"What do you mean 'right away'? I do a good job. Dr. Keller always tells me that."

"You've told me a lot about the old guy. He likes to talk to you. I bet he has a dull life when he goes home."

"Except for David and Kevin, I'd say my life would seem dull to lots of people." Shed never thought of her life in those words but they now seemed realistic.

"You could cash in on that. Sweet talk the old bastard. You still have a great shape. Use it! Hell, you could even go to bed with him a few times. I wouldn't care. There's plenty of you and what you have for the both of us."

"You lousy, damn son-of-a-bitch!" she said. It was one of the very few times she had ever used such language. He knew that and realized that he had pushed the subject too hard and too fast.

She was crying now, softly and to herself, knowing it would be useless to expect comfort or contrition from him. That's it, she thought; I can't take any more. I won't take any more. Why stay with him? It keeps getting worse and worse.

She turned over, facing away from him. He tried to fondle her, in an attempt to mollify her. "Don't touch me!" she said, in a low, intense voice.

He turned over, also, facing away from her. They lay in silence, neither sleeping for a long time. She thought, divorce couldn't be any worse than this. I'm already supporting this house financially. I might as well end the bickering and heartache. The boys won't even miss Bart; he never notices them, anyway. She could tell that he was not asleep yet. "I want a divorce," she said, her voice low but very distinct as she emphasized each word.

"That's nice," he said in a sarcastically sweet tone. "Youll change your mind by morning."

She did not answer him. No I won't, she thought. Not this time. After a few more minutes she could hear his light snore.

She thought a long time before sleep came. The decision had brought peace to her mind. No happiness; only a new peace.