**A Late Farewell: A Goodbye on the Way Home**
After kissing his lover tenderly goodbye, Philip Carter got into his car and drove home. He paused for a moment outside the building, taking a deep breath, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to his wife. He climbed the stairs and unlocked the door.
“Hello,” said Philip. “Eleanor, are you home?”
“I am,” replied his wife, without emotion. “Hello. Shall I fry the chops, then?”
Philip had promised himself he would be direct, firm, no beating around the busha man of decision! It was time to end this double life while he still felt the warmth of his lovers lips, before the routine swallowed him whole again.
“Eleanor,” Philip coughed, steadying his voice. “Ive come to tell you we need to separate.”
The news was met with unsettling calm. Eleanor wasnt one to lose her composure easily. In the past, Philip had even nicknamed her “Eleanor the Ice Queen” for it.
“What do you mean?” she asked, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Should I not fry the chops?”
“Thats up to you,” said Philip. “Fry them if you like, or dont. Im leaving. For another woman.”
Most wives would react with a burst of furyperhaps a saucepan hurled in their husbands direction. But Eleanor wasnt like most.
“Oh, what a tragedy,” she murmured. “Did you pick up my boots from the cobblers?”
“No,” admitted Philip, taken aback. “If its that important, Ill go fetch them now!”
“Look at you” Eleanor muttered. “You always were like this, Philip. Send a fool for boots, and hell bring you the old pair.”
Philip was offended. The dramatic scene hed envisioned was crumbling. Where were the tears, the shouting, the righteous anger? But what else could he expect from a woman as cold-blooded as Eleanor the Ice Queen?
“I dont think youre listening, Eleanor!” he said, raising his voice. “Im telling you Im leaving you for another woman, and youre talking about boots!”
“Exactly,” replied Eleanor. “Unlike me, you can go wherever you like. Your boots arent at the cobblers. Whats stopping you?”
Theyd lived together for years, but Philip could never tell when Eleanor was serious or joking. At first, it was that very serenity, that discretion, that had drawn him in. Not to mention her striking beauty and practical nature.
Eleanor was solid, loyal, and as unmoved as a block of granite. But now Philip loved another. He loved with passion, sin, and sweetness! It was time to cut ties and start anew.
“So, Eleanor,” Philip declared with solemnity and a touch of sorrow. “Im grateful for everything, but Im leaving because I love someone else. I dont love you anymore.”
“Fascinating,” said Eleanor, her voice level. “Doesnt love me, poor thing. My mother fancied the neighbour, my father loved dominoes and whisky. And look how I turned outbrilliant, isnt it?”
Arguing with Eleanor was pointless. Every word she spoke had the weight of stone. His initial fervour dimmed, and the fight drained from him.
“Eleanor, you really are incredible,” Philip said bitterly. “But I love someone else. I love with passion, sin, and sweetness. And Im leaving, understand?”
“Who is it, then?” asked his wife. “Not Tanya Mills, surely?”
Philip faltered. A year ago, hed had a fling with Tanya, but he never imagined Eleanor knew her!
“How do you know about her?” he began, then stopped. “Never mind. No, Eleanor, its not Mills.”
Eleanor yawned.
“Then its Sandra Warren? You went back to her?”
A chill ran down Philips spine. Sandra had also been his mistress, but that was in the past. If Eleanor knew, why had she never said anything? Of courseshe was a fortress, never showing her hand.
“Wrong again,” Philip insisted. “Not Warren or Mills. Another woman, wonderful, the love of my life. I cant live without her, and Im going. And dont try to stop me!”
“Then it must be Mabel,” concluded Eleanor. “Oh, Philip, Philip you really are daft. Your big secret. The love of your lifeMabel Ventura, thirty-five, one child, two miscarriages Am I right?”
Philip clutched his head. Shed hit the mark! His affair was indeed with Mabel.
“But how?” he stammered. “Who told you? Have you been spying on me?”
“Elementary, Philip,” replied Eleanor. “You know Ive been a gynaecologist for years. Ive examined half the women in this city, while youve only known a fraction. One glance, and I know where youve been, you idiot!”
Philip took a deep breath, trying to salvage his dignity.
“Suppose youre right!” he declared haughtily. “Even if it is Mabel, nothing changes. Im leaving.”
“Youre truly stupid, Philip,” sighed Eleanor. “You couldve just asked. Theres nothing special about hershes like all the others, and I say that as a doctor. Have you seen your sweethearts medical history?”
“N-no,” he admitted.
“Well then. First, go wash up. Second, Ill ring Dr. Harper tomorrow to see you without delay. Then well talk. Shamefula gynaecologists husband choosing an unhealthy woman!”
“So what do I do now?” Philip whined.
“Ill fry the chops,” said Eleanor, turning away. “You clean up and do as you please. If you want a healthy woman, say the wordI can recommend someone…”
