NICOLE SHARP
ITHACA “I’m looking for Ithaca.” “What?” he asked. “Nothing,” I said. We started walking again, the rain light enough; not bothering us, well, it didn’t bother me. I continued walking; he followed because he had to, he needed someone to cook and clean for him. He was trying to be nice right now. “Did I tell you about the girl I met on the plane?” “I’m not signing those papers.” He said. “You will.” I said. He had to, it was the reason I came back here. “You don’t really want to divorce me.” He dismissed me. “She told me about Ithaca, said she was looking for it. She was one of those smart girls, really smart. She worked in a museum or something like that. She was smart.” “I don’t care.” He said, his voice following me. “I know. She said that Ithaca is what we’re all looking for. A...it stood for something. A big word, I forget. But she said that some of us want to get there, to Ithaca, before everyone else, but when you get there first, you’re not happy, and then...I forget. She was smart.” “Not like you.” He scoffed but I stopped listening to him belittle me a long time ago. It was good he was reverting to his old ways; it would 125
