Ethel never trusted her husband, so she learned to rely on herself alone. Thats how their marriage turned out. Her husband, Victor, was as handsome as a fresh poppy blossom and the lifeoftheparty wherever he went. He drank in moderation, never smoked, and showed no enthusiasm for football, fishing or hunting. In other words, a proper bloke, fit for a manor house.
Because of those decent qualities, Ethel suspected Victor found solace outside their home. Men like him werent hard to come by, but every man needs a huntress of his own. The only thing that eased Ethels nerves was Victors devotion to their little boy, Stanley. Victor adored his son and spent every spare moment with him, so Ethel believed that fierce paternal love would be enough to keep the family together.
At school Ethel was teased as Ginger for her fiery red hair and the freckles that dotted her face like tiny specks of dust. Her mother, a striking beauty, had always told her, Ethel, youre my ugly duckling sorry for the harsh comparison. Its a bitter truth, but its yours. No one will marry you, so youll have to stand on your own. Study hard, build a career, and if a decent man ever comes along, be a dutiful wife. Those words stayed with Ethel forever.
After graduating with a gold medal, Ethel went to university, where she met the man who would become her husband. She couldnt understand why Victor, a coveted young gentleman, took notice of her. He later confessed that she was the only girl he ever dared to approach. Ethel never wore makeup, dressed modestly, and knew nothing of flirting. When she realized a prominent lad was courting her, she seized the chance and proposed marriage herself. Victor was initially taken aback by such forwardness, but Ethel promised to be gentle, obedient, and faithful, insisting that love would grow over time. After some hesitation, Victor agreed, persuaded in part by his mother.
When Victor first brought his future bride home, his mother, Victoria OLeary, gave Ethel a disapproving stare. The boys a stunner, brighter than the sun, any girl would snap him up. And heres this freckled mess, she thought. The first meeting was far from pleasant.
Ethel sensed her motherinlaws displeasure, but she knew a handsome husband could become a stumbling block to domestic bliss. She wasnt about to lose her chance, so she visited Victoria alone, hoping to save her future marriage. Victoria welcomed her with tea, and this time Ethel even seemed charming. Im getting used to her, Victoria murmured. Ethel swore she would be a loyal and obedient wife to Victor forever, a promise that outweighed any superficial flaws.
Victoria was a lonely woman; her husband had abandoned her and their son for a new love long ago, only to return a year later, exhausted and shunned by his family. She spent years wondering whether she should forgive his betrayal or let it fester. Raising a son on her own was hard enough, so she finally gave her blessing to Victors choice, realizing that Ethel would wait for him on any road, even the roughest.
A year later Stanley was born, a perfect miniature of his handsome father, which delighted Victoria. Victor doted on his son like a moth to a flame; Stanley became his whole world. Yet the love for his wife never blossomed. Ethel, too, never felt a passionate spark for Victor. Their life was steady and ordinary: Ethel washed and ironed Victors shirts, cooked meals, and kissed him goodnight; Victor handed over his entire paycheck, bought birthday flowers, and kissed her on the cheek each morning before heading to work. It felt more like a ritual than romance. Both hoped true marital affection would appear, as books and friends described it so vividly.
Five years on, Victor finally found that feeling but not with his family. He fell for a breathtaking woman named Bozena, whose ethereal beauty captivated him. She reciprocated his longing, and they began a secret liaison that lasted half a year, meeting in cafés, on park benches, and at friends flats. The deception drained Victor, and he grew increasingly distant with Ethel. Stanley saw a irritated father rather than the cheerful man he once knew. Bozena demanded, Either marry me or we stay friends; I wont wait for an old maid. Victor was torn: he didnt want to lose Bozena, yet his son meant the world to him. He thought of Ethel not at all.
When Victor finally packed his bags and left, Stanley was five. Ethel recalled her mothers harsh lessons. As a child those words had felt like a wound; now they felt like a shield. She realized she could survive his departure without a dramatic plunge off a bridge or endless tears.
The whole saga left a hollow ache in her heart, a fragment that slipped deep into her soul. Happiness, she thought, is a free bird that lands wherever it pleases. She would have to drink the bitter cup left by a wayward husband to the very end. As Victor left, Ethel said, Youre always welcome back, but dont dawdle. Stanley loves you; dont make him suffer.
Victor spent the next six months shuttling between his son and Bozena. Ethel kept Victors toothbrush in a separate cup in the bathroom; each time he visited to wash his hands, the brush stared at him like a silent accusation. One day Victor slipped the toothbrush into his pocket, intending to discard it. When he returned, a brandnew brush sat in the cup, a reminder of the life hed abandoned.
On the kitchen counter, a mug of hot coffee waited for him; at the hallway, his slippers rested, poised for his return. These small domestic details gnawed at Victors conscience. He could not explain why hed left; some unseen force pulled him toward Bozena, tearing his soul apart. He kept asking himself how to avoid hurting those he loved, but no answer came.
Ethel could have barred his entrance, cursed the interloper, or even cursed Victor himself, yet she remained quietly composed. Each time Victor left after playing with Stanley, she whispered, Come back, Victor. Dont forget us.
Victors visits to Bozena were always exhausted; she despised the constant drama surrounding Stanley. She warned him, If I ever leave, itll be because you love your son more than me. Their tangled affair lingered for years.
Friends whispered to Ethel, Lord, why havent you married someone decent? Stanley needs a father every day, not just on holidays. Youre still young; let go of Victor. She listened, sighed, and stayed silent. Eventually the friends stopped urging her; everyone accepted that she was alone. Time marched on.
Victor stopped seeing Stanley. Father and son met only on neutral ground. Stanley finished school, and twelve long years had passed since Victors departure. Ethel finally put an end to that chapter, deciding she still had the strength to have another child. She bought a holiday package and flew to a sunny resort, where she enjoyed a brief, nostringsattached romancejust a pleasant fling.
Nine months later, Stanley gained a baby sister, Molly. The news stunned Ethels friends, who waited at the hospital doorway for the new arrival. A tired but radiant young mother emerged, cradling a bundle wrapped in pink ribbons. Hello, ladies! Please love and cherish my little Molly! she beamed.
One friend sniped, And what will you call her by patronymic? Ethel retorted, Shell grow into it! No gossip could dampen Ethels joy; her whole life now revolved around raising Molly.
Molly adored her brother, who became her first and irreplaceable playmate. She never asked awkward questions about her father; her mothers happiness made everything else irrelevant. When Molly started nursery at three, the other children taught her that families could have both mums and dads.
Molly began calling Stanley dad, a bittersweet habit that made Ethel both laugh and sigh.
One evening, a hesitant knock sounded at Ethels flat. Molly darted to the door, shouting, Its my dad! Ethel looked through the peephole and saw Victor standing there, a weary traveller after many years. She opened the door wider. Come in, if youre here, she said, trying to mask her surprise.
Victor set down two bulging bags and removed his backpack. Molly ran into his arms, exclaiming, Mum, thats my dad, right? Ethel, tears welling, answered, Yes, love, thats your father.
Victor lifted the little girl, kissed her freckled nose, ruffled her golden curls, and whispered, Hello, my little firecracker! He then turned to Ethel, pressing his lips to her hand. Thank you, Ethel. Will you forgive me? he pleaded, trying to kneel.
Ethel gently but firmly grasped his elbow, keeping him from dropping to his knees. Hello, my bitter honey. You were gone for seventeen years, but I hold no grudges. We need a father, you see, she said, sighing with relief.
Stanley stood nearby, eyes wide with astonishment, and smiled.
A couple of weeks later, Ethel called a curious friend and announced, You wanted to know my daughters middle name? Shes Victoria Victorovna. Remember thatMolly Victorovna, no options!
