Hasty Farewell: A Goodbye from the Car and the Return Home
He stepped out of the car and tenderly bid his mistress farewell before heading home. Upon arrival, he lingered for a moment by the building, mentally weighing how to confess everything to his wife. He climbed the stairs and unlocked the door.
“Hello,” called Edward. “Are you home, Beatrice?”
“I am,” replied his wife, indifferent. “Hello. Should I start frying the steaks?”
Edward vowed to himself that he would act decisivelywith confidence and resolve, as a man should! It was time to end his double life before his mistresss kisses lost their warmth, before he was swallowed again by the monotony of daily routine.
“Beatrice,” Edward cleared his throat, “Ive come to tell you we must separate.”
Beatrice received the news with surprising calm. She had always been unshakable, which was why Edward affectionately called her “Frosty Beatrice.”
“Really?” asked Beatrice from the kitchen doorway. “Should I not fry the steaks, then?”
“As you like,” said Edward. “Fry them if you want, or dont. Im leavingIm with someone else.”
After such a declaration, most wives would hurl something at their husband. But Beatrice was not most wives.
“Oh, you and your whims,” she replied. “Did you fetch my boots from the cobbler?”
“No,” Edward faltered. “If it matters, I can go get them now!”
“Ah, Edward,” murmured Beatrice. “Send a fool to fetch boots, and youll get the worn-out ones back.”
Edward bristled. The announcement wasnt going as expectedit was all so devoid of emotion! But what else could one expect from a wife nicknamed Frosty Beatrice?
“Beatrice, are you even listening?” Edward exclaimed. “Im leaving! Im going to live with another woman, and all you care about are boots!”
“Right,” said Beatrice. “Unlike me, you can go wherever you please. Your boots arent at the cobblers, so youve nothing holding you back.”
They had lived together a long time, yet Edward still couldnt tell if his wife was serious or sarcastic. Back then, hed fallen for Beatrice because of her gentle nature, her knack for avoiding conflict, and her economy of words. That, and her domestic skills and undeniable charm.
Beatrice was steady, loyal, and coldlike a ships anchor. But now Edward loved another. A burning, forbidden, intoxicating passion! It was time to dot the is and cross the ts and sail toward a new life.
“Beatrice, I thank you for everything, but Im leaving because I love another woman. Not you.”
“What a shock!” Beatrice scoffed. “You dont love me? How novel! My mother fancied the neighbour, my father loved dominoes and whiskey. Look how I turned out.”
Edward knew arguing with Beatrice was futile. Every word from her carried weight. His initial resolve crumbledhe didnt want a fight.
“Youre wonderful, Beatrice,” Edward said, resigned. “But I love anotherwildly, recklessly. Im leaving, understand?”
“Another?” she asked. “Is it Elizabeth Foster?”
Edward flinched. A year ago, hed had a fling with Elizabethbut he never thought Beatrice knew!
“How did you?” he began, then stopped. “Never mind. Its not her.”
Beatrice yawned.
“Then it must be Sophie Allen. Youd run off with her?”
A chill ran down Edwards spine. Hed also had an affair with Sophiebut that was ancient history. If Beatrice knew, why hadnt she spoken up? Ah, yes. She was ironclad. Nothing could pry words from her.
“No, not Sophie, not Elizabeth. Its someone elsethe woman of my dreams. I cant live without her, and Im resolved to go. Dont try to stop me!”
“Then its Sonia,” muttered Beatrice. “Honestly, Edward what an open secret! Your dream woman is Sonia Harris. Thirty-five, one child, two miscarriages Am I warm?”
Edward clutched his head. She was righthe was involved with Sonia Harris.
“But how did you know?” he gasped. “Did someone tell you? Were you following me?”
“Simple, Edward,” said Beatrice. “Im a gynaecologist. Ive examined nearly every woman in this town, whereas youve only managed a few. It didnt take much to catch you out!”
Edward steadied himself.
“Suppose youre right! Even if it is Sonia, it changes nothing. Im going with her.”
“Youre a fool, Edward,” said Beatrice. “You couldve at least asked me first! Theres nothing special about Soniasame as the others, medically speaking. Have you even seen your muses health records?”
“N-no,” Edward admitted.
“Well then! Go shower. Tomorrow Ill speak to Dr. Whitmorehell see you at the clinic without delay,” said Beatrice. “Then well talk. Its not righta doctors husband picking such an unhealthy paramour!”
“What should I do?” Edward asked, distraught.
“Ill fry the steaks,” said Beatrice. “Yougo wash up and do as you please. If you want a perfect muse, without complications, just ask. I know a few I could recommend”
