"I can't believe you've never been here," Paul said as we strolled, from our hotel to Time Square. "You've been all over Europe, lived in England and Germany, yet you've hardly seen New York."
"We came down as kids a couple of times, but only day trips. Money was too tight to consider a hotel and parking was costly. Yes, I lived in those places, but I never saw them properly."
"Your husband wasn't much of a tourist?" Paul's question surprised me. He never mentioned Doug; nor did mention I Carol. Verboten subjects.
"What happened to 'not discuss our ex's' agreement?" I asked as we walked back to our hotel after a marvelous dinner.
"Sorry. No need to answer. It was a slip."
"No problem. I don't mind. Doug was content to never leave the base, at least with me, maybe with the company of his fellow drinkers. We hardly went anywhere." I stopped and kissed him, as other walkers strolled around us. "Don't feel you have to tell me about Carol, but I'll tell you about Doug. He was a shit head, a lying son-of-a-bitch and a cheater. While I suppose some part of me mourned him, it was the luckiest day of my life when the bastard died."
"Wow. That was a mouthful." We began walking again and crossed the street.
"See how lucky I am to have a great guy like you?"
"Why did you stick with such a bastard?"
"That's what Karen asked me."
He stopped mid stride until a cab honked and chased us across to the curb. "You told Karen about your first husband?"
"Sure. She asked so I answered. Remember? Our honesty pact?"
"Perhaps I should be the one asking about that stuff. I'd like to be a fly on the wall when you two get in that so called love chair."
"Don't you dare! Our pact is working far too well to have you messing with it. Buy me a drink; a cosmopolitan or two in a swanky bar and I'll pour out my soul to you about my shitty first marriage. I'm tired of our 'hands off' policy, at least from my side. I feel like blabbing about the bastard tonight."
I blabbed, in great and grand detail, pouring out my soul about my stupidity in sticking with my long and unpleasant marriage. We were folded into a high back booth in a bar straight out of the movies, licking powdered sugar from the rims of our ice cold glasses.
"Was your good Catholic upbringing the reason you stuck around?" he asked at one point.
"Maybe in part but I had few other options. I took too long to grow up."