April 18, 1983 P. 46

April 18, 1983 P. 46

The New Yorker, April 18, 1983 P. 46

James Clemens, a cheerful middle-aged man, was having an affair with Freddie Delielle, an unsmiling young woman whose real name was Fredrica. She was married to Grey, a rich Wall Street banker. He was married to Vera, a decorator who was a great cook and hostess. It was just before Thanksgiving, and James and Freddie decided to part. James said, "If we are going to break up, let's go upstairs and say goodbye properly." And they did. The two had met at a party. Freddie taught at night at business school and was working on her dissertation in economics. James had been a successful investment banker who retired prematurely to be with his children and write. He was captivated by Freddie, though she dressed badly, hated dinner parties, and was indifferent to any domestic art. James talked about his family plans for the holiday. He kissed her and hoped she'd reveal something to him. "Being in love, he often thought, was like having a bird tangled in his hair." They waited until after Thanksgiving to get together again. James found a letter from Rick's Reptile Hut addressed to her and was stunned that she got mail he was unaware of. She explained that it pertained to a trip to Maine she took with her husband last year. This made James miserable. She cried. He missed her when they were apart and one night met her after her class. He asked, "Do you ever miss me?" She said, OOnce I missed you so much it felt like a stomach pain." They went to her place. "If we're going to part, let's at least have a swan song," he said. They lay down together naked. "No matter how many times they parted...they would return to each other by some mysterious mechanism, as surely as swans come back to the same still unfathomable pool."

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This article appears in the print edition of the April 18, 1983, issue.
