Jackie Wells-Fauth
I’ve been doing the research, and I can see the signs, you know. I think, based on my findings, that my marriage is about over. I have been a student of history all my life and the examples of good women doing what they can for their husbands is daunting, to say the least. And I really don’t think I would measure up to their standards.
For example, look at the women who were at the Alamo. They were given chances to get out before things got so grim with Santa Ana moving in. The majority of them stood by their men. I’d have had ten suitcases tied to one mule and made my grandsons walk on their knees so they wouldn’t look old enough to fight, as I fled the premises like the craven coward I am. Should Roy have wanted to stay, I’d have left him with a fond farewell and a package of bandaids. Doesn’t sound quite like a devoted wife, does it?
Then, there’s Dolly Madison, who, fleeing the British during their 1812 invasion of Washington, D.C., stayed long enough to rescue items out of the White House…for her husband and her country. Don’t tell the really civic-minded people, but there’s another case where I would have thrown my clothes and shoes in a convenient pillowcase and hit the road for my husband’s fancy plantation, and if the British chose to burn George Washington’s portrait, I’d have felt bad, but I would have left them to it. If my husband wanted to save the artwork, he’d have needed to oversee that himself. There’s a reason I wouldn’t be a good look for Roy if he chose to run for President!
Roy is well-aware of my narcissistic approach to marriage. Recently, he had a bad cold—so bad, that in the end, I made him go to the doctor for antibiotics. However, I also wore a mask anytime I was near him and spent most of my time yelling, “Don’t touch that! I have to use it and I don’t want your germs!”
“If we’d been on the Titanic, you’d have left me to drown, wouldn’t you?” he said, coughing and wheezing as he made his own breakfast, while I hid in the living room, holding a towel over my masked face and trying not to breathe.
“Of course I would have!” I exclaimed in disbelief. How could he think otherwise?
“You know, there was a rich guy on that ship—Strauss, I think his name was—whose wife chose to stay on board with him when he would not get on a lifeboat. What about that?” He reached for the silverware drawer to get a spoon.
“Don’t touch that handle! Can’t you just drink your cereal? And then be sure to throw the bowl away. And as for Mrs. Strauss, she missed a real opportunity there. Not only could she have lived to marry again, if she wanted, but she would have had plenty of cash, too.”
“The magic is really gone, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I read just the other day about a siege that took place in what is now Germany during the 13th century. They permitted the women to leave the fortress with whatever they could carry. They chose to carry their husbands out. That’s devotion.”
“So, you’re saying you would have carried me out?” he asked skeptically.
“Well, no, but I’d have wanted to. I’d have felt bad leaving without you.”
Eyeing me up and down, he remarked, “Of course, those women were probably younger and a lot more fit than you are.”
Yup, it’s not moonlight and roses around here anymore. But as for the marriage being over, well, I don’t think I’ll let him off that easily!
dropsinthewell 