A Big Storm Knocked It Over by Laurie Colwin

Peachy did not approve of philandering and had two nice children whom she walked to school each day. Eventually,when things got out of hand—when one of Dita’s marriages broke up and a new one began—Peachy was told all.
    This encounter with Joe Ching had eaten up a great deal of Dita’s hot, intense energy. If Joe Ching called late, or was late for an assignation, or did not appear to be in desperate love, Dita went to pieces. Jane Louise had spent a couple of evenings trying to calm her down as she shouted and sobbed and insisted her life was worthless.
    And then Dita turned up at a concert with her lawful wedded husband, the reportage photographer Nick Samuelovich, who had a noble head of white blond hair, clear-framed glasses for his stark blue eyes, and a long black scarf wrapped several times around his neck. He towered over Dita, who was small-boned. She brushed imaginary lint off his camel’s hair coat, and smoothed his shoulders, and, after the concert, took Jane Louise and Teddy, who was still new in her life, off to a tiny Russian café where Dita called her husband Nikosh and Nikita and laughed at his jokes. You would never know a thing. Teddy thought she was pure hell.
    The Arctic manuscript sat on Jane Louise’s table, almost glowing with a lurid light, like a phosphorescent mushroom. I ought to take that home and read it, she said to herself, and think up some plain but handsome design.
    Her mind was not on this project. Was it the result of marriage that your attention wandered and you felt that your own consciousness was like a new puppy on a leash?
    She heard a voice and looked up. Sven was standing in the doorway, appraising her. How long had he been there?
    â€œGet to work,” he said, ambling in.
    â€œI can’t get to work with you in my office,” Jane Louise said. “And what’s your story? You don’t seem to be very work oriented these days.”
    â€œIt’s the unsettling effect of your marriage,” Sven said. “Puts ideas in a person’s head.”
    â€œIt’s supposed to take ideas out of a person’s head,” Jane Louise said.
    â€œOh, yes?” Sven said. “Is that why you got married?”
    â€œPeace and harmony,” Jane Louise said. “A stitch in the ever-expanding tapestry of human affairs.”
    Sven looked at her. “Men and women are adversaries,” he said. “Like cats and birds.”
    â€œReally?” Jane Louise said. “Don’t you and Edwina get along?”
    â€œI get along with all my wives,” Sven said. “It isn’t about ‘getting along.’ It’s about what’s really underneath.”
    â€œUnderneath what?”
    â€œRapine,” Sven said. “Hunting and gathering. We are primitive people.”
    â€œHow interesting,” Jane Louise said. “You mean when a boy and girl go out, it’s really about how he kills an animal, she finds some berries, and then he jumps her?”
    â€œYou know what I mean,” Sven said.
    â€œI don’t,” said Jane Louise.
    â€œPassion,” Sven said, “is the sweater of pillage pulled inside out.” He looked enormously pleased with himself.
    Jane Louise looked at him, saying nothing.
    â€œYou probably think it’s all about oneness and unity.”
    There was nothing Jane Louise could say to this. She did think it was all about oneness and unity.
    â€œIt’s because women are receptacles that they feel that way,” Sven said.
    â€œSeen in that light, you guys are simply garbage men,” Jane Louise said. “Get out of here, okay?”
    This conversation rattled and upset Jane Louise. She felt her flesh creep in ways not entirely unpleasant. She also feltslightly sweaty, as if her clothes had suddenly grown too tight.
    She pushed some papers around on her desk. She fiddled with some type and answered a memo. She put the enormous manuscript in her