Free East Hope by Katharine Davis

whether Aunt Lila had had lilacs in her garden.

4
    T he rest of the weekend with Mary Beth was strained. She stayed in bed nursing her cold while Will spent the remainder of Saturday and most of Sunday cleaning out the garage to have it ready to show to Realtors and potential buyers, but also to avoid spending time in the house with his wife.
    Finally, on Sunday afternoon when Will came home after a particularly long run, Mary Beth laid out her schedule for the coming weeks. She was headed back to Los Angeles to meet with Drew and the others working on the project, and from there a trip to Tokyo to meet with their Japanese counterparts. She asked Will to arrange putting their furniture into storage and presented him with a list of the things that she wanted shipped to New York. “Come on, Will. It’s not so bad. It’s going to be a fresh start,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. He kissed her and tried not to think about the life that they were leaving behind.
    After her departure the days blurred together. Graduation came and went, but Will did not attend, knowing that Jennifer Whitely’s father, a trustee, would march in the procession. During what would have been his tenth graduation ceremony at Habliston College, Will remained at home, cleaning out his office and packing boxes. He stayed inside all day, despite the great weather, feeling like a deviant or some kind of criminal.
    The situation might have been different. If Mary Beth had mustered some small amount of indignation, even if she had not been willing to help him fight the accusations, he would have walked in the ceremony with his colleagues, showing everyone that he would not be cowed by the bogus claims of one undergraduate. The more he thought about it, the more he began to brood. It was as if his wife had abandoned him.
    Will’s mood continued to darken each day as he readied the house for the move. Mary Beth had already taken the guest room bed and dresser to New York, along with a pair of love seats from the living room, some end tables, and an assortment of pictures when she bought the apartment at the beginning of the year. Will was used to the missing furniture, and the real estate agent told him not to be concerned, as it made the house appear larger. Indeed, the house sold its first day on the market.
    As he worked, Will contemplated the state of his marriage. He knew all married couples settled eventually into a practical rhythm, that it was normal for the passion to fade, but the more he thought about his life with Mary Beth the harder time he had remembering any shared joy between them in the last few years.
    Not only had they been living in different places, they no longer shared any important decisions. When Mary Beth had accepted the management job in New York without consulting him, she reminded Will that he had accepted the chairmanship of the English department without talking to her, either. She bought the apartment without him, and later decided it was his turn to commute. They were a couple, but they didn’t work out their problems together. Had it always been like that?
    He remembered how thrilled Mary Beth had been when he was offered the job at Habliston. That decision had seemed automatic. If he truly loved his wife, would he hesitate to follow her to New York now?
    Late one afternoon he sat on the back steps and flipped through the latest issue of Down East . Tomorrow was trash day. He had been about to toss the issue in the recycling bin. Maine, he thought, and suddenly the idea of a trip there to celebrate their anniversary came back to him. A vacation together—would it maybe make a difference? He couldn’t allow himself to give up.
    Will thought of his parents, married nearly fifty years until his mother’s death. His dad was not a quitter. His parents had seemed happy, but probably their marriage hadn’t always been easy. Rough times in the hardware business had made money a