And, eight weeks before this (the start of our story), Rita had dropped the next bombshell. Oddly, though, this time, it didn’t seem to faze me. The...bad marriage wasn’t a result of the infidelity, she said. Rather, the infidelity was the result of a bad marriage. It wasn’t my fault, she explained. (WHY do women always say that?) She simply didn’t love me. She hadn’t loved me for a long, long time, now. She wanted out. And, like always, I stepped back a pace and judged my options. Fine.. " I wanted so bad to continue on past that bed and drop anchor in the cloth chair that had been in that corner off the far foot of the bed since we'd set it there on move in day. Had never even sat in it. Next to it was a small table where she'd placed the record player---a pile of .45's stacked upon the record changer. She'd pulled out both of our cases of records & set them under the little table. I hadn't went thru those cases in quite a while. It made me want to be disc jockey, now. Jockey. More

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