Enduring the Ordeal
Oh, the things Ive been through these past daystruly, I wouldnt wish it on my worst enemy! And he? He only goes and files for divorce! Emily lamented, twisting a napkin in her hands and ordering yet another cocktail. On her first free evening after receiving the awful news, she decided to drown her sorrows in a club, hoping the sweet taste of liquor and the thrum of loud music might distract her, if only for a while.
She sat with her friends in the soft shadow of a private little booth, words pouring from her lips in a flood, as though the dam shed held for so long had finally burst.
How could he do it? she cried. I havent slept for weeks, lost so much weight, look a fright! I practically rattled from all the sedatives! No gratitude, nonethrown out of his life like a broken old toy!
Her friendsAmy, Grace, and Sophienodded and murmured their support between sips: You deserve so much better, Em! He was never good enough for you, darling! Each woman joined in, exclaiming their indignation at Emilys soon-to-be-ex-husband, offering hugs, a kindly squeeze of the shoulder, a glass of water now and again to steady her nerves. Any innocent observer mightve thought the man being discussed was the very villain of the piece.
Theyd have been wrong.
James was, as husbands go, a gentlemen of finest sortmindful, thoughtful, unfailingly gentle. He never raised his voice, always inquired after her health, remembered such things as her favourite chocolates and that she wouldnt touch tea after six. No task was too small for him to undertake on her behalf; every problem he solved quietly, all chores he handled without complaint.
It was James himself who suggested Emily leave her job to devote herself wholly to family life.
You work yourself into exhaustion, hed say, brushing her hair with a tenderness that made her heart flutter. Let me provide for us, darling. You should do things that truly bring you joyyoga, afternoons with friends, making our house a home. You deserve a rest.
And so she didhanded in her notice without a second thought, delighting in domesticity, greeting James every evening with a smile and a warm supper, filling their weekends with outings and little surprises. Shed never felt so content, so loved, so vital.
Emily had never found fault with Jamesnot once in three years of marriage. Even his twelve-year-old son from a former marriage, Thomas, failed to upset that gentle equilibrium. She accepted the boy, offering kindness without pressing herself into the role of mother. She cooked his favourite meals, left treats on the table for him, asked after his school day, but left him space.
Thomas, for his part, was cautious. He kept his secrets to himself, never sought out Emilys advice, shared nothing of his troubles. Mostly, hed just give her a gruff ullo or bye before vanishing to his room, acting as though she were little more than a stranger.
Emily found this arrangement perfectly satisfactory. Being a mother to a brooding adolescent had never been her aspiration; she was content with her roles as wife, homemaker, and occasional confidant.
Their marriage seemed blessedthree happy years, every morning beginning with coffee James brought to her bedside, every night closing with warm conversations in the kitchen. They travelled, they laughed, they dreamed. It seemed it would last forever.
Until the day fate played its cruel hand.
***************
Ive just had a call from the hospital, Mrs. WilliamsJamess mothergasped, tears staining her cheeks. James hes been in an accident! They tried getting through to you but
Emily stood in the hallway, only moments home from a walk, a bag of fruit dangling from her hand, the air of someone utterly untroubleduntil now. She set the bag on the console, brow furrowing in confusion.
I never answer numbers I dont know, she murmured, as if in apology, eyes flicking to Mrs. Williamss worried face as the full meaning struck her. What? An accident? When? How is he? Which hospital?
The questions tumbled out, her voice trembling with fear, her eyes wide. She clung to Mrs. Williams for support, her face ashen.
They say its serious, love, Mrs. Williams almost whispered. The doctors arent making any promises.
The words hung in the air like a suffocating fog, and Emily staggered back, dropping onto the settee as her knees buckled. She buried her face in her hands and wept.
Her grief was loud, dramatic, wrung from her in fits. She covered her face, clutched at cushions, rose and paced only to collapse againover and over.
How could it happen? Hes always been so careful always she sobbed.
To all appearances, Emily was inconsolableconsumed by grief. But those who knew her well detected something a touch performative about her mourning. Her movements too sharp, her eyes darting to see who watched, as if to check whether each observer fully appreciated her suffering.
Soon, the flat filled with people. Emilys elder sister arrived, followed closely by a cousin, and then the neighbours, brought by Mrs. Williamss distress. They gathered in the lounge, whispering, shaking their heads, offering glances of pity towards Emily.
Is there anything we can do? her sister asked quietly. Need anything brought to the hospital, or help with the papers?
I I dont know Emily whispered, wiping tears with a cushions edge. Im just so scared
Well manage, her aunt said, patting her shoulder. James is strong. Hell pull through.
Silence fell, interrupted only by Emilys sniffles and the murmured conversation among the others. All were troubled by one questionwhy do such terrible things happen to the best of people? For James was truly golden-hearted, always ready to lend a hand or a pound where neededalways selfless.
You wont find another like him, one neighbour whispered, dabbing her eye. Not anywhere.
Everyone nodded, sharing the pain that consumed their little world.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Williams was clutching her chest ever more often, growing pale and short of breath, though Emily seemed oblivious. The older woman bore her discomfort quietly, eyes shutting in fatigue now and again, her unwellness entirely unnoticed.
Thomas hovered against a wall, a mere fifteen and terribly young to have faced so much grieffirst his mothers passing five years ago, and now a father so gravely injured. His eyes were wide, frightened, his hands twisting his shirt as he watched the adults, perhaps in hope that someone would say, Everything will be all right. But no one did. Emily, swept up in herself, didnt so much as look his way.
Worse still, Emily seemed almost deliberately to keep the spotlight fixed on herself. At any sign someone might start discussing practicalities, shed interrupt, dissolve into tears all over again, harp on about happy times gone, love lost, dreams dashed. Her monologue seemed endless, and even her most empathetic supporters started to grow weary.
That evening, Jamess younger sister, Charlotte, arrived. She swept in, brisk and businesslike, and took control immediately. Shed already been to the hospital, spoken with doctors, settled payment for an operation, arranged a private room, and ordered medicines. Her every action was crisp, decisive, unfettered by excess emotion.
Right, she announced to the crowded room. Thank you, everyone. But it really is time you all got off home. Theres still plenty to do, and itll be easier with less of a crowd.
Her voice brooked no argument. Guests filed out, some with relief, some with guilt. Charlotte brought much-needed order, leaving behind only those she thought truly helpful.
Then she turned to her mother.
How are you, Mum? Charlotte asked softly, kneeling by Mrs. Williams.
Oh, not to worry Just a little dizzy, thats all, Mrs. Williams managed, attempting a weak smile.
Charlotte immediately rang a doctor friend. Earlier, an ambulance had been and gone already, but Mrs. Williams felt no better. The doctor arrived within half an hour, examined her quietly, then shook his head.
Her blood pressure is all over the placeher hearts not coping. She needs rest, strict monitoring, proper medicine. Ill write up a list.
Charlotte took in every instruction, rang the chemist, ordered a delivery straight away.
Then she turned to Thomas.
Youll stay with me, darling, she said firmly. Theres nothing for you to see herelets get you some supper, and tomorrow Ill take you to hospital to visit your dad.
Thomas nodded, relieved to find someone to trust.
It was at that very moment Emily chose to resume her dramatic turn. She slowly sank into an armchair, pressed a hand to her temple, and sighed theatrically:
I I feel faint I might collapse at any moment
Charlotte, on her way from her mothers room, stopped dead. Her gaze turned coolalmost steely. She strode over, seized Emilys elbow, and marched her towards the bathroom.
What are you doing?! Emily shrieked, but Charlotte had already turned on the cold tap and pushed Emilys head into the sudden, icy stream.
Water soaked her hair, poured down her neck, ran in rivulets over her face. Emily squealed and struggled, but Charlotte held tight.
Enough! Enough! Emily gasped, wrenching free. Are you mad?!
Charlotte turned off the tap, flung a towel at her, and looked on with undisguised irritation.
Honestly. This melodrama has to stop. You should have pulled yourself together and started handling things yourself. Youre his wife! Not me, not Mum, not the neighbours! Stop this tragic widow act.
Pausing to steady her temper, Charlottes tone lost fury, retaining firm resolve.
James is aliveand he will recover, do you hear? Dont you dare bury my brother before his time! And do not, under any circumstances, say anything defeatist in front of Mum or Thomas! If you do, youll find yourself shipped back to your own little village before you can blink.
Emily recoiled, trembling as she dried her hair, glaring at her reflection in the mirrormascara smudged, cheeks streaked. A tide of anger and resentment boiled inside, but she fought to hide it.
You have no right to speak to me like that! she declared, her voice wobbly but determined. Mrs. Williams herself said Jamess condition is extremely grave, the doctors cant offer guarantees! As the saying goes: Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.
Charlotte crossed her arms; her look was unyielding.
And what do you think will happen to Mum if she hears such nonsense? Shes hanging by a thread. And Thomas? Hes only now starting to recover from losing his mother, and this happens! Have you ever once thought about how theyre feeling? Or is all that matters to you that everyones watching and pitying you?
Emily opened her mouth but found nothing to say, absently brushing damp hair from her face.
You dont understand she muttered softly, eyes downcast. I am worried I truly am
Prove it, Charlotte said, stepping close. Not with tears. Nor with fainting fits. With action. Ring the hospital, find out whats needed. Talk to the doctors. Help Mum. Support Thomas. Thats whats required. Not all this performance.
Emily was silent. Her reflection stared backwan, bedraggled, broken. She saw now how feeble it all looked, but to admit Charlotte was right proved impossible.
Pray that James survives, Charlotte said, her voice cold and unwavering. Otherwise, youll lose everything. All the property was his before your marriage, so youre entitled to nothing. Jamess sole heir is his son.
Emily flinched, but stiffened, trying not to betray her panic. Of course she loved her husbandtruly, she did! But even now her thoughts churned over possible exitsjust in case. She couldnt imagine a life bound to an invalid, so in truth, another outcome was preferable
Charlottes laugh was icy.
And what thenthink youll become his carer? Dont delude yourself. To Thomas, youre no one. Youve no blood claim, no legal standing. Once again, Ill say itpray he survives.
Emily clenched her fists, digging nails into her palms. She wanted to scream, to argue, to produce some justification, but her mind went blank. She felt backed into a corner, and that infuriated her all the more.
You you only want to humiliate me, she whispered, striving for fortitude. You think I dont care what happens?
I think youre a little too fond of thinking only about yourself, Charlotte replied quietly. But this isnt a game. If you want to remain part of this family, prove you deserve it. If notthe doors open.
Emily sniffed, spun around, and marched to her room, slamming the door and turning the locksafe, for now, from the judgments of the world. She dropped onto the bed, hugging her knees, staring at the wall.
She needed to decidehow to act? Should she play the devoted wife, living by his bedside? It would certainly earn her crediteveryone would see her as the loyal spouse, sacrificing everything, staying up through the dark nights
But there was one problem. If James never recovered, how could she leave him? Having played the part so convincingly, turning back would be impossible without incurring the scorn of allhis family, friends, and James himself. After all, hed never been cruel or harshhed always adored and cared for her.
And what if he survived, but was left seriously disabled? Could she endure the weight of itendless needs, restrictions, and care? Noshe was not willing! She longed for a normal life, for freedom, for the chance to shape her own future unhindered.
Emily rose, walked to the mirror. A tired, pale face stared back. She smoothed her cheek, as if it might wipe away her worry.
What should I do? she wondered, over and over. What is the right course?
She found her phone, finger hovering over her friends name. Perhaps shed call, pour her heart out? But her friend would likely echo Charlotte: Hold on to your husbandits your chance.
She let the phone drop, sat by the window, gazing out as dusk gathered and lights flickered to life. The city moved on, while her world seemed caught between what was and what might come.
If James recoversif hes welleverything can go back to the way it was. Ill be carefree, light-hearted Emily again. And if not
She refused to follow that thought to its end.
Best for me to play the grieving wife, she finally decided. Ill cry constantly, summon the doctor half a dozen times a day, make out that Im too weak to stand. She pictured it: a fragile woman, broken by sorrow but still lingering by her husbands side. Everyone would praise her, neighbours whisper hushed admiration, and Jameshe would value her sacrificesurely?
*************
The first days passed easily enough. She acted her part: sighing at windows, wilting into armchairs, phoning the hospital in trembling tonesHow is he? What do the doctors say? May I come visit? Nurses offered kind words, relatives brought food and medicine, and Charlotte, though eyeing her harshly, conceded that Emily was making an effort.
But everything changed within a fortnight.
On one hospital visit, Jamess physician drew her aside. A worn man, spectacles perched on his nose and kind eyes beneath, he motioned her into his office.
Miss Emily, I need to speak plainly with you, he began, shuffling his notes. James is stable, but he wont return to his old work. It will require a lengthy recoverymonths, perhaps years. And it wont come cheap.
He spoke gently, not wishing to wound her, but every word landed heavy. He meant to steel her for the long, costly ordeal to come. But, inwardly, Emily switched off.
Thats it. Its over, she told herself, a horrible coldness blooming in her chest.
She nodded, dabbed at her eyes, murmured: Ill cope Ill stand by himbut the decision was already made.
To nurse ones own husband around the clock? she thought. No! Im young yetI cant lose my life to all this.
As she left the office, she pulled on her coat and drew a deep breath, already constructing her escapesome respectable excuse that would shield her from blame. Maybe shed claim emotional strain, perhaps her own health. Anything, so long as there was no scandal.
What Emily did not know was that the physician hadnt told her quite the whole truth.
In reality, Jameslying in his wardhad been observing his wifes behaviour. Hed watched her rare visits, her indifferent glances, the way her eyes never settled long. It pained him, but he needed to know: did she love him truly, or was hers a love rooted only in comfort and good fortune?
He remembered her tearful vigil after the accident, how shed clung to his hand, whispered: Please, just livehold on for me! Then, it had seemed the purest love. But soon her visits grew shorter, her gaze remote, her words empty.
How are you? she asked, not quite meeting his eyes.
Fine, hed answer, thinking, Nothings fine. Not for me. Not for us.
So he took a step hed never imagined. He summoned his doctor.
Tell her Im unlikely to return to work, James said, gripping the sheet. Say recovery could take yearswill be very difficult, very expensive.
The doctors eyebrows rose.
Youre certain? Thats not the real prognosis. I expect youll be on your feet in good timeperhaps not remember this at all.
Im certain. I need to know if shell stay, thinking this might be her new reality.
The doctor hesitated, then agreed.
Now James knew the answer.
Upon hearing the dire prognosis, Emily wept a bit more, wringing her hands and muttering about what shall we do, butas the doctor notedher eyes never filled with true anguish, only a sort of trepidation tinged with calculation. She nodded and promised, but her movements felt like a poor stage performance.
Soon she visited even less, delegating calls to her sister or mother. Her excuses multiplied: Im unwell, The doctor says you need rest. Every such excuse pierced James deeper than any injury.
James would close his eyes and remember the beginning: the laughter, the promise, the hope. Was it never real? he wondered. Was everything built only on easy daysand now, with trouble knocking, shes ready to run?
When his strength gradually returned, he made up his mind. He asked the nurse for his phone, dialled Emilys number. It rang, and rang; when she answered, her tone was flat, distracted.
Em, we must talk, he said, forcing his voice steady.
What? she responded shortly. Im busycould it wait?
No. Now. Im filing for divorce.
Silence. Then a sharp gasp.
Wha? You you cant be serious!
Ive made my decision.
She was quieta long, heavy pausethen said, almost in a whisper:
You cant do this, James. Were family
Family is sticking together, in good times and bad, he interrupted. And where have you been? At the first hint of hardship you began plotting how to leave, keep your reputation intact. Dont think I didnt notice.
But I did my best! she burst out, stung. I visited, I worried
Visited, perhaps. Worried, I doubt it. You thought only of your own life, of how things hurt your prospects. You ran as soon as it seemed our old life was gone.
She tried to reply, but he finished:
No more excuses. Ive seen the truth. I will recoverquickly, in fact. The doctor lied, at my request. This ends now.
He hung up, set the phone aside, and closed his eyes. His heart felt empty, but lighter than it had in months. Whatever the future held, he knew this: better to be alone than clung to by one who flees at the first sign of trouble, who abandons the one they claim to love to the mercy of fate.
