Lily was with Jake for the second weekend in a row, the last weekend before school let out, while Rachel went to the horse races with one of her innumerable daft friends. After packing as much entertainment as they could into Saturday, Jake and Lily decided to have a lazy Sunday. Jake popped popcorn and poured a family-size bag of M&Ms into a bowl. Lily put Aladdin in the DVD player, and she and Jake and E. E. lounged in the living room, watching Disney's botched reproduction of yet another classic story. E. E. put his hands over his ears every time the genie spoke, and Jake avoided looking at Aladdin's face until they gave up completely and started a game of Yahtzee.
Lily asked, "Have you ever met a genie?"
"Yeah," Jake said. "I did once, a long time ago."
"What did you wish for?"
E. E. raised his eyebrows, waiting for the answer.
"Cheerios, bananas, and coffee."
"What?" E. E. said.
"You kind of had to be there."
When Lily was asleep that night, E. E. mentioned his upcoming Friday night plans with a girl named Traci, one of a dozen girls E. E. had fallen in and out of love with in the past six months.
"Why don't you come with us?" E. E. asked. "She has a really hot friend." E. E. nodded conspiratorially, as though there was some secret meaning in his words.
"I'm married, E. E." Jake wondered how many times he'd said those words, wondering when it had become comfortable, wondering when it would start to become uncomfortable again—how long after your wife kicks you out can you still claim to be married? Is there such a thing as a common-law divorce?
"Right," E. E. said, then snorted.
"What?" There was a defensive tone in his question, and E. E., who had started walking back toward his bedroom, turned around.
"Nothing. It's just…I've met Rachel. And she's not…I just think you should give it up. Move on."
"We're just going through a rough time," Jake insisted. "She'll get over it, and we'll be fine."
E. E. didn't say anything.
"Look, this is none of your business, anyway," Jake said. He stood and walked to his bedroom door. His heart was pounding so loud and fast that he was a little scared. He went into his room and began to pull the door closed behind him, careful not to slam it. He didn't want E. E. to know how agitated he was, and he didn't want to bother Lily, and that word still seemed to be hovering there on the edge of speech.
Divorce.
But before the door closed all the way, he heard E. E. mutter, "Yeah. Don't let reality hit your ass on the way out."
Jake stopped. A small, often ignored voice in his mind said that he should protest and he should defend himself, but he was so unused to paying attention to that whisper that he couldn't think of a reply, let alone force it through his lips. He was used to feeling that way. He saw himself sitting in Principal Bigot's office earlier that week. He heard himself a million times with Rachel, always saying nothing, accepting, bowing to her version of the universe.
Jake clenched the doorknob, his ever-silent frustration pounding in his head and chest. We'll be fine. We'll be fine. Fine.
Jake opened the door a few more inches, intending to go back into the living room, but again the words he should say paused behind his teeth before diving back down his throat, crouching and trembling somewhere in his stomach.
He took a step backward and slammed the door as hard as he could.