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SHE should never have told Jack she would marry him. Down in her heart, she knew she was being foolish and wrong. But she thought that time would be on her side. She thought that the days would pass, and the image of Rene would drift farther and farther back in her memory, until it was only a pinpoint of pain, instead of this all-enveloping agony. Other women had fallen in love with men who didn't love them — who married someone else — and those other women had still managed to go on living. Why shouldn't she?
But somehow, the minister's words, "Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy state of matrimony?" and all the rest of it — somehow, even as she repeated them after him, they sent a chill down her body, as if she were hearing not words, but the sound of a steel door closing . . .
There was no honeymoon. Jack was terribly busy at the office, and couldn't get away just then, and she had said she'd rather not wait — knowing miserably, as she watched his face light up, that he completely misinterpreted her words. The truth was, she didn't dare to wait. She needed something now, right away, to help her forget Rene.
After the ceremony, after all the chatter and laughter, they ran to his car, and he drove up Market Street, clear up to where it curves around Twin Peaks and beyond, into a part of San Francisco where the houses sit perched on the sides of steep hills. Eucalyptus trees tower whispering over these houses, with wisps of fog caught all day in their trailing branches.
Jack twisted and turned the car on the winding streets, and finally stopped it before a house like a white, shining box, all square angles and stucco, with a huge window overlooking the valley that spread between there and the sea.
"Here it is," he said shyly. "Our house. Like it?"
"It's beautiful!" she said. "Up here on top of — of everything — "
The sun was shining, yet here on the western slopes the fog swirled about the houses, and the combination of sunlight and mist gave them all a bright, unearthly beauty. She jumped out of the car, and because she felt self-conscious in her white satin gown and veil, started up the walk to the door.
"Wait!" Jack called. "Don't go in yet, Connie."
"Why not?" she asked in surprise, and a look,
WANT A DIVORCE!" IS FROM THE RADIO PROGRAM OF HE SAME NAME. ADAPTED FROM A STORY BY HUGH WILEY
RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR