"April Fool." The clerk fell over the counter, laughing.
"That's me," Oliver said.
He slept all afternoon, ate at a Burger King across the road, watched the news, and fell asleep again without ever really waking up.
The next morning, he stared over a cup of coffee and tried to get organized. It was Monday. Jennifer and Emma were home. The damage was done. Suzanne. What a peach she was. He wrote to her, thanking her for being wonderful. It wasn't just you, he told her. He had to leave Jennifer, too. Suzanne would understand that intuitively. He wrote that he didn't know where he was going, but that he wouldn't be back anytime soon. He asked her to send his last check to Jacksonville, Florida, care of General Delivery. He signed it "Love, Oliver." Spring was a good time of year to go down the coast. He wanted to get far from Maine.
He called Myron and asked him to send a check for ten thousand dollars to the same address. "No problem," Myron said with admirable restraint. "Do it this afternoon."
"Thanks." Oliver paused. "Any word from Francesca, lately?"
"Not since those two withdrawals."
"I guess that's good," Oliver said. "I'll be in touch."
"I'll be here," Myron said. Oliver hung up, relieved. He had no plan; he was still numb. Might as well change the oil in the Jeep, he thought. Get something done.
While he waited for the car, he wrote to his mother, telling her that the marriage was over. Nobody's fault, he assured her with Arlen's words. He didn't want her to be surprised by the news if she happened to call Jennifer. Nor did he want to stop in Connecticut and explain in person. He needed to be alone and somewhere else. His mother would understand, although she would be upset. She acted on her feelings; she knew what it was like, the necessity of it. She must have once written a note to Muni that was similar to the one he had left for Jennifer. He felt more sympathy for each of them.