Waiting Up by John Updike

Clinky, clinky.

Richard and Joan Maple are going through maritial conflict again in John Updike's Waiting Up. 

Ah, Mr. John Updike. Always ready to serve up a tale of suburban malaise with a side of existential dread. In this story, Richard has managed to create the most uncomfortable evening of his life by having an affair with one of their friends, Mrs. Mason. The kicker? His wife has just marched over to the Masons’ house to chat about it. 

Awkward...

So now he’s stuck at home late at night: anxiously pacing around, drinking bourbon, and checking on the kids in bed like a man wracked with guilt and shame. Joan eventually returns, flustered but not in the way Richard expects. Apparently, the Masons are just fine with the whole affair. No shouting, no recriminations. In fact, Mr. Mason sees the affair as a beautiful, soul-nourishing event that somehow made his marriage better. He definitely sounds like the swinger type. Conversely, Mrs. Mason suggests that Joan should sleep with her husband to even the score. Classic Updike: making you wonder if these people are actually open-minded to different kinds of relationships (open marriage, poly, etc)  or just emotionally immature adults walking around in pastel cardigans. Would I want to be friends with any of these people? Absolutely not. But do I love reading about their struggles navigating complex and messy relationships? Oh, 100% and Updike usually delivers the dramarama in spades.

Of course, many of his stories also contain witty and sharp insights regarding gender and social expections. For example, at one point during their conversation, Richard complains that babysitting is “unmanning” (because heaven forbid a father spend time with his own children), and Joan, delivering the best line in the story, fires back, “I think you’ve had enough manning for a while.” Chef’s kiss.

By the end, Richard does experience a sort of epiphany: he realizes he actually cares for Joan, and waiting for her return was pure agony. But don’t expect a heartfelt apology or grand romantic gesture from him towards his wife. Instead, he just sits with his remorse, feeling the ache of something lost. Is it his affair? His marriage? His sense of control? Maybe all of the above: "Joan's safe return had uncovered within him the abysmal loss of, with her soothing steady voice, the other." It's a poignant and profound ending, as to be expected by a master chronicler of upper-middle class domestic life.