Too Easy by Bruce Deitrick Price

her, this is just something I have to do. You wouldn’t want to stop me, would you, Anne? No, of course not. I’d do the same for you. . . . Well, alright, I’d have to. That’s the point. If someone you love sees a way to achieve some kind of greater happiness, you have to wish them well. You have to push them onward.
    Robert stands up and moves into the aisle. Feeling calm and resolute. It won’t be so bad. It has to be done. My future is with Kathy. Anne’ll see that right away. God, I’ll always love Anne. I’d help her any way I could. The rest of our lives, we’ll be friends. That’s the way I want it.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Robert gets off the train in Bronxville that evening with all the phrases worked out in his head. He wants to be readyfor anything Anne might say, any objections. Well, there’s really only one, that he’s known Kathy only a few months. Seems like a much bigger part of his life than that. Everything’s been so intense. A lot of anxiety about each step in the relationship. But, really, didn’t he know almost from the beginning? She got inside his head right off the starting block. He worries about telling Anne precisely that. No point in hurting her feelings. Still, she may ask, how can you be sure?
    He walks to his car, pushing the pieces of the scene around in his head. Really, the only thing he’s concerned about is keeping the whole thing calm, logical, friendly. He doesn’t want any crying, or anger, or hysterics. He might lose his composure, too. And then who knows what either one of them might say. No, the main thing is to be low key.
    He drives the few miles to their house in a fairly good mood. Remembering what Kathy told him: “You’ll do fine, lover.” That way she talks to him sometimes. As though he’s the student, and she’s the teacher or the coach.
    All through dinner Robert is on the edge of saying, “By the way . . .”
    He stands an inch away from doing it. The silence of the house seems to have gotten louder. Well, that’s it, no children. God, that’s luck, he thinks, given what is happening now.
    He’s got the smell of the other woman on him. A fact that seems to seal the matter for him. Yes, this is the night. All the same, he feels somehow vulnerable, exposed by this fact. Something that must be kept secret, and this, he senses, gives Anne a small bit of moral superiority.
    He watches Anne, thinking about their years together. They talk of almost nothing. Was it always like this? The silence seems louder.
    In the kitchen, as they wash and dry the dishes, Robertinhales at length and says, “Oh, Anne, I’ve been meaning . . .”
    He’s wiping a plate as he turns casually to face her.
    She looks back at him. Somehow very poised and still. Why is this surprising? Somehow very . . . steely.
    â€œYes, Robert?”
    â€œ. . . to talk to you. . . .”
    And he has a horrible vision that Anne will not be friendly and agreeable. That’s odd. She’s always been friendly and agreeable. All the same, he feels this strongly. She’ll object and resist. She’ll—oh, God—fight back. And what does that mean, concretely? He sees it with great clarity. It means a messy, painful, and very expensive divorce. No, this isn’t what he had in mind at all.
    â€œYes?”
    Robert fumbles with the plate, lets it roll out of his hands onto the sink. It bounces and spins, clattering for several seconds.
    â€œDamn,” he says. “Slippery little bugger.” He fakes a laugh.
    â€œIt’s all right,” Anne observes mildly. “Now, you’ve been meaning . . . ?”
    â€œOh, what?” He acts puzzled. Shakes his head, looking around the room as if trying to remember something. “Went right out the window,” he laughs.
    She waits. Very poised, it