MY TRUE WIFE
How have you managed to live with the same wife for so many years? What’s the secret? My brother always asked, dropping in for a cup of tea.
Love and a great deal of patience. That’s all there is to it, Id answer every time, just the same.
That recipe’s not for me. I love all women. Each one is a mystery. Living with a book youve already read? Not for me, hed smirk.
My younger brother, Robert, married at eighteen. His bride, Alice, was ten years his senior. Sweet Alice fell head over heels for Robert, for life. But for Robert, it was just a game.
Alice settled, lawfully, in her husbands house, where seven other family members lived. She gave birth to a son, Matthew. Alice felt the bird of happiness was firmly within her grasp. The young couple got a tiny, cramped room.
Alice treasured her collection of porcelain figurines, rare pieces she guarded like gold. There were ten all togetherdelicate, gleaming, displayed atop an old sideboard. Our entire sprawling family knew how dear those fragile figures were to Alice. Shed often stand and gaze, enraptured, at their intricate shapes.
At that time, I was still window-shopping for a bride of my ownhoping to find just one, for all my years. As fate had it, my dream came true; Ive been married to my wife for more than half a century.
Robert and Alice were together a decade. Alice had little to boast of in the marriageshe was ever the good wife, loving husband and son with all her heart. Meek, quiet, agreeable. What more could Robert have wanted?
One evening, Robert returned home in boisterous spirits, dissatisfied with something about Alices look or manner. He started picking on her, mocking, grabbing her arm. Sensing a storm brewing, Alice quietly gathered up Matthew and left the room for the garden.
Then came the crasha crack like a thunderclap. Alice knew instantlyit was her beloved figurines. She dashed inside and could scarcely believe her eyes.
Her cherished collection lay in splinters across the floor, all but one miraculously intact. Alice rushed to that sole survivor, gently lifted it, kissed it. She said nothing to her husband the brute. Only her eyes brimmed with tears.
From then on, a rift formed between Robert and Alice. I think Alice lived somewhere else in her mind after that. She still did all her wifely duties, ran the house, but it all seemed forced, lifeless.
Robert began drinking more frequently. Soon the house was shadowed by gaudy friends, dubious sorts, loud women with vulgar laughter. Alice kept silent, withdrawing further into herself, drifting through the days like a wraith. Robert rarely came home; he all but abandoned them.
Alice, watching his wild ways, understood that you cant chase after the wind across the fields. In the end, Robert and Alice divorcedquietly, without shouting, shaming, or blame. Alice took Matthew and returned to her native town. The single surviving figurine stood alone on the sideboard, the last sentinel of her hopes. Alice left it behind as a memory.
Robert didnt pine for long. His life lurched on, untethered. He loved quickly, parted even faster. Three marriages, three divorces. His love for whisky outpaced them all. To his credit, Robert worked at the university: a successful, respected economist, often summoned to London or Manchester for his expertise. He even published a textbook with his name on ithis star was meant to shine. Drink and reckless living swept it all away.
One year, the family thought Robert had calmed, got a grip. We were relieved. He decided to wed a brilliant woman. We attended the modest wedding. Alas, the bride had a seventeen-year-old son. Everyone could see the lad and Robert would never get on.
They were simply too different; both strangers to each other. Robert ignored it, perhaps not grasping the gravity of taking on a wife with baggage. Ultimately, it was his stepson who wrecked the marriage after five yearsthe pair nearly came to blows. Disaster was narrowly averted.
After that came the parade: Linda, Judith, Fiona… Robert loved and adored each, swearing every time it would be forever.
But life has its own script. At fifty-three, Robert fell mortally ill. By then, all those women had silently slipped away. Only I and our sisters cared for the bedridden Robert.
Simon, theres a suitcase under my bed. Pass it here, he rasped, voice frail.
I pulled out a dusty old case, flipped it open, and was stunnedit was packed with porcelain figurines, each wrapped in soft flannel, as if keeping safe a lost hope.
I collected these for Alice. I cant forget the silent reproach in her eyes when she saw her collection smashed. My poor wife, she bore with me. Remember my trips all over the country? I bought figurines everywhere. Theres a false bottom; take the money from there. All my savings. Give it to my true wife. Let her forgive me. I wont see her again. Swear it, Simonswear youll take it to Alice, he turned his face to the wall, burdened with regret.
I promise, Robert, my throat tightened. I knew he was leaving for good.
Her address is under my pillow, he said, but never looked back.
Alice still lived in her childhood town. Matthew was struck by a strange illness, baffling the doctors. They suggested, If you can, seek help abroad. That info was in Alices letter, tucked under Roberts pillow. So, it seems Alice and Robert had stayed in touch by postthough only Alice wrote, Robert never replied.
After Roberts funeral, I prepared for my journeyto fulfil his last request.
I met Alice at a sleepy railway halt. She was overjoyed, hugging me fiercely.
Oh Simon, youre the very image of Robert! Like peas in a pod.
I handed her the suitcase, asked forgiveness on Roberts behalf, as Id promised.
Alice, forgive your foolish husband. This is for you. Theres money, and something else from Robert. Open it at home, please. For Robert, you were his true wifenever forget.
We parted then, for good.
Later, I received one letter from her.
Simon, thank you to you and Robert for everything. I thank God that Robert was in my life. We sold the figurines to a true collector. I couldnt bear to look at themtheyd all passed through Roberts hands. A shame he left so soon. The money let us move to Canada; my sister has begged us there for years. Nothing tied me to England anymore. I waited, hoping Robert would call us to him. He never did… Yet Im grateful he considered me his true wife. That means he didnt entirely forget me. Matthew is much better here, he loves it. Goodbye.
No return address.
