Men I Didn't Marry

Chapter ONE My husband doesn't even wait until we're in the car to drop his bombshell. We've just brought our daughter--the brilliant, beautiful, and beloved Emily--to her first day at Yale. I've met her roommate, unpacked her duffels, and made the bed with the soft sheets we got during our four-hour precollege shopping marathon at Bed Bath & Beyond. Okay, I didn't really use the sheets Emily and I bought together. I picked up a better set at the exclusive Frette store on Madison Avenue to surprise her. The girl got into Yale, darn it; she shouldn't sleep on anything less than 600-count sateen. Bill, the ever-doting father, jokes around with Emily while he sets up her computer and assembles a bookshelf next to her desk. As long as we're both puttering at our little tasks, we can put off the emotional breakdown, sure to come the second we leave Emily behind and head back to our now very quiet house. Emily kisses her dad to thank him for his help, gives me a big hug, and then promises us she'll be okay. Our cue to leave. With less surety, I say we'll be okay, too. Now that our second child has officially become a college student, just like her big brother, Adam, our empty nest couldn't get any emptier. On the way out of the dorm, we pass the freshman counselor's "Welcome" table, stacked high with campus maps, orientation bulletins, and two bowls, one filled with Tootsie Roll pops and the other with condoms. Bad idea to offer all that candy--too easy to gain the freshman fifteen. And, oh my god, that other bowl, brimming with ribbed, rainbow-colored, and glow-in-the-dark protection. Should I warn Emily to steer clear of any boy who reaches for the Star Wars condoms? Bill and I step outside and I grab onto his arm and take a deep breath. I've been dreading this day since the first morning I left Emily off at preschool, but we seem to have made it through. "I think we did fine, honey," I say, proud that I haven't cried once. "We sure did. We raised a great kid," he says, distractedly patting my hand. He's right. Both of us were young when we started our family, but we raised two terrific kids and had fun being parents. But now's the time for Bill and me to have new adventures together. I've planned a wine-tasting weekend, a romantic getaway to a four-star Vermont inn, and I've even snagged season tickets to the Knicks. Knowing this day would come, I'd been on the waiting list to get them for six years. I look over at my successful stockbroker husband. He's always been handsome, but I realize he's in better shape than ever. The love handles are gone, and so are the muffin tops--the new bakery euphemism for that extra roll of flesh that hangs over the elastic band of your briefs. His abs could make the cover of Men's Health--well, an inside page, anyway. And wait a minute, what happened to the wisps of gray hair that were appearing at his temples? I reach over, gently rub his now very dark brown sideburns and giggle to myself. I can't really imagine Bill using Grecian Formula, but he's done something. Maybe after all these years, my honey does have a secret or two. "So, darling, our first night, just us," I say squeezing his strong arm even tighter. "What's your pleasure? The little Ethiopian restaurant in New Haven, or should we get home right away and I'll slip into something comfortable?" I lean over to kiss his cheek, but Bill has picked up his pace, and I just miss. "Hallie, I have something to tell you," Bill says. He keeps walking, looking straight ahead. Uh-oh. Bad opening line. I stumble, my heel catching on the pavement. "I have something to tell you" never comes before "I love you passionately," or even, "I've always liked your pot roast." No,Schnurnberger, Lynn is the author of 'Men I Didn't Marry ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780345490704 and ISBN 0345490703.