ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: The Writer, His Wife, and their Afterlife

Book One, Part Two, Chapter 141: A Scrap in a Scrapbook

Ernie filled many black binders — one with letters from agents and editors, one with clippings, and a few with personal memorabilia.

In one of these scrapbooks I find something I wrote years ago, that I barely remember writing, that I had completely forgotten about, that I never intended Ernie to see. But not only did he see it, he saved it. And I cringe with shame. How could I have left this out for Ernie to see? Jesus.

That day so long ago, writing in heavy black ink on white paper, I call my life a failure. I say I feel more like a servant than a wife, that I do what Ernie wants me to do without his knowing who I really am. I accuse him of using me, violating me. I call myself Little Girl. Call him The Old Man.

Now I think: Ernie called me Little Girl. Is this why? Was this small outpouring of mine the start of that? And he called himself The Old Man. Sometimes he came up to me with the face of a little boy, the voice of a little boy, and said: “Is the old man gone? Can you come out and play now?”

Jesus, this is heartbreaking.