The English Wife. Doreen Roberts
had calmed the doubts. But then, as I matured, the mothering instinct had taken over.
Brandon absolutely refused to consider adoption, or any artificial means of having a child. Maybe if he’d given me the affection I’d needed, opened up to me, let me in to that private world he’d guarded so zealously, I could have found comfort in that. As it was I found other compensations—in my job, and eventually in music and in books, just as I had as a child.
Now, thinking about how he’d deceived me, I was boiling with anger and regret for all the things I’d given up for him.
I had to stop wallowing in resentment. It wasn’t Brandon’s fault he was sterile. He certainly didn’t ask to die suddenly and leave me alone. As for the business with the cottage, I had no real reason to suspect him of cheating on me. I had no proof, and I should know better.
I was forty-six years old, and I still had a life to live. I still had time for choices, good or bad. All I had to do was find the strength to make them.
Fueled by my determination to move on, the following morning I tackled Brandon’s closet. The faint remnants of his cologne still clung to his suits, and the robe he always wore at night hung above his neatly placed slippers.
I lifted it from its hook and immediately a voice in my head wondered if he’d worn a robe when he was with her. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to get rid of my ridiculous suspicions.
Irritated with myself, I pulled suits, shirts, jackets and pants from their hangers and threw them in an untidy heap on the bed. I piled shoes, ties and underwear on top of them, then found a box of black plastic yard bags. After stuffing them full I hauled them out to the garage. The next local charity drive would reap a bonanza.
Brandon’s face came back to haunt me as I walked back into the house. How he would have hated to see his clothes tossed out in such a cavalier way. I felt a stab of guilt, then got annoyed at the thought that he could still reach out from the grave to criticize me.
On impulse I called Val. “How about lunch?” I said, as soon as she answered. “Today?”
“What’s happened?” Her voice vibrated with curiosity. “You’ve decided to go to England?”
Once more I had the feeling of air being snatched out of my lungs. The reminder that I still had a huge problem to deal with threatened to undermine my resolve. “No, of course not. I’m tired of talking to myself, that’s all. I need some real conversation with another human being.”
“That I can do.” She hesitated, and her voice turned wary when she added, “Ah…did you change your mind about coming back to work?”
“I’m not asking you for my job back, if that’s what you mean.” I thought that sounded a bit abrupt and hurried to reassure her. “I’ve put in an application with the school district, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”
She sounded relieved when she answered, and I figured she’d already replaced me. We arranged a time and place and I hung up, feeling more positive than I could have imagined two months ago. I was going to make it. I’d survived the worst and I had nowhere to go but up. At last life was beginning to look good again.
I met Val in a quiet little restaurant on the edge of town. With its paneled walls, white tablecloths and soft music playing in the background, it provided a welcome contrast to the health club’s noisy cafeteria.
She arrived late, falling onto her chair with a flurry of apologies. “Damn traffic, I swear it’s getting worse. I had two calls just as I was leaving. We really miss you at the club, Margie. Things haven’t been the same since you left.”
Thinking about those days of striving to please all those demanding women, I knew I’d made the right decision. After we both ordered chicken Caesar salads, I listened while Val told me about her latest adventure with a computer date.
“I was having a good time until he said he’d left his wallet at home. I ended up paying for the meal. Then he asks to borrow cab fare. Hello? I told him he could freaking walk home. Jerk.” She snorted in disgust and took a swallow of the chardonnay the waiter had just put down in front of her.
For the first time in weeks I felt like laughing. I bit my lip instead.
“What about you?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing. “You look like you’ve lost some weight.”
Fifteen pounds to be exact, but I didn’t want to admit to that. “A little,” I said instead. “I’m doing fine. I’m getting used to being on my own. I’m sleeping better and getting things done around the house.”
“Way to go,” Val murmured. “But what about the cottage? Have you sold it yet? Are you going to England?”
I waited for the hollow feeling to pass before answering untruthfully, “I haven’t given it much thought lately. I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“Like what?”
I reached for my own glass of wine. “Well, like getting a job. Selling my house.”
Val’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to sell your house? Why?”
“It’s too big for one person, too expensive.” Too many memories, I added mentally.
Her eyes lit up. “All right! Can I go house hunting with you?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The idea of buying another house was unnerving. “I was thinking more of renting.”
“Even better. We can go look for apartments.”
I didn’t want to go apartment hunting with Val. She’d force her ideas on me as usual, I’d insist on sticking with mine and she’d get miffed. I changed the subject. “So tell me all about the club. What’s been happening since I left?”
Fortunately she was happy to fill me in, and we’d eaten our salads by the time she’d finished. Having exhausted her topic, once more she scrutinized my face. “So what about you? You haven’t been moping around the house all this time, have you?”
“I’ve kept busy.” I fiddled with my glass, even though it was empty.
“Margie, don’t you have friends, relatives you can visit? You shouldn’t be spending all this time alone.”
“I don’t mind being alone, and I’ll be working again soon.”
She pursed her lips. “You don’t make friends easily, do you? I’ve known you for six years, and I feel as if I don’t really know you at all. Except you weren’t happy, and didn’t want to talk about it.”
I stared at her. “What made you think I was unhappy?”
“Well, weren’t you unhappy?”
“I wouldn’t say that. Brandon and I had our differences but we rarely argued.”
“That’s because you were never together. You led separate lives from what I could tell.”
I hadn’t realized I’d given so much away. “Well, Brandon wasn’t much of a talker,” I said carefully.
“But what about friends? You must have had girlfriends you could talk to, have a laugh with and hang out together?”
“Not really. I’ve never been much on girl talk.”
Val crossed her arms and I knew I was in for one of her lectures. “Margie, you’re a nice person. A good person. But it’s time you started living. I mean really living.”
I knew what she meant by that. Computer dates, noisy, smoky bars, crowded dance floors. The very thought of it made me shudder. I managed to pull off a smile. “I’m too old to change now. Guess I’ll stick to my books and music.”
Val rolled her eyes. “Now you’re talking like an old woman. You need to get out in the world and start living. Go to England, have it out with the bitch and get it all out of your system.