Photograph: George Marks/Getty
Sterling’s body seemed to get stronger and stronger as if to mock my own. But I was the one to prompt him about a hunting trip he’d planned with his friend Mason. Once I even had to remind him of Mason’s wife’s name. It was as if the proper noun–Louise–had slipped into a gray fold in his brain, an inconsequential loss. But it was a name he’d known for fifty years.
Strong as Sterling was, he started getting sick pretty soon after that. Nothing serious, just an occasional bout of diarrhea at night. I told him he needed to be more careful where he ate. Ought to quit going to the Coffee Cup Café, except for coffee. Cooks must not be washing their hands after they went to the Men’s, I said, in a voice full of wifely concern.
One day, about two months after Nancy started picking me up every other week or so to take me out for burgers, I called Ethel. My sister. My twin. “How have you and Sterling been?” she asked. She never asked how I was doing, it was always “you and Sterling.” Just as, when Ethel and I were children, people always asked us, “How are Ethel and Ellen?” or “How are you, twins?” I realized I wanted someone, someday to ask after me alone, to ask how I, Ellen, was getting along.
“Well…” I said carefully.
“Well, what?” She pounced on my hesitation.
“We haven’t been getting along lately. It’s just that, well, Sterling…he used to be nicer to me.”
“You must not be keeping him happy,” Ethel said. “That’s why he’s not treating you right.”
“I didn’t say that,” I paused for effect. “Sterling treats me just fine.”
“But you just said…”
“Nevermind that I said anything. How have things been going with you?”
“Boring, painfully boring,” Ethel said. “Living in France, it spoils you for Woodville, Texas, it really does. I still can’t figure out how it is you’ve stayed here your whole life, never gone anywhere at all.”
When our father was old and became an invalid, Ethel traipsed off to Paris with her boyfriend Francois, leaving me to take care of our father alone for seven years–she didn’t come home until he was in the ground.
“Well, I was married,” I said. “And then raising the kids.”
“I hate to say it,” Ethel said, “but sometimes I think Frank passing when he was so young was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Kept me from spending my whole life being somebody’s wife. Used to be I was sad the two of us didn’t have kids. But now I think, what good would they have done me anyway? I mean look at your children–if you didn’t go to visit them you wouldn’t know they exist. They’re sweet, of course and I’m sure they’d come more often if it wasn’t such an expense.”
“Maybe so,” I said. “Well, I need to run to the grocery before Sterling comes home.”
“I hear he hasn’t been home much,” Ethel said and I wondered if it was a well-aimed shot in the dark, or if one of my neighbors was talking. Probably Delia. She could see my driveway from her kitchen window and she and Ethel had always been tight.
That night Sterling woke me up from a dead sleep to pin me down and grunt away on top of me. I couldn’t tell what hurt worse, my muscles and limbs and joints, or him not caring, him wanting to hurt me even. The next morning he left to go hunting, but came home in the middle of the day with his stomach knotted up in cramps and he spent the afternoon on the toilet. The groans I heard coming through the bathroom door almost made up for the pain of what it proved.
I’d been wondering if I shouldn’t have replaced all of his Viagra with laxatives instead of just a third of them. It would’ve saved me from what I went through the night before. But I didn’t want him to realize right away it was the pills that were making him sick. It was important to me to figure out whether or not he was just taking the pills to use with me, or if he really was cheating.
A few days later I called Ethel. “It’s getting worse,” I said.
“What’s getting worse?” she asked. I heard in her voice she knew exactly what.
“Sterling,” I breathed. I wanted her to be prepared, to have a plan. I knew she was rusty; it’d been over twenty years.
“What’s he doing?” she was nearly panting to hear.
“Well,” I said, “it’s kind of confusing.” And it was confusing. I’d never told a mean-spirited lie in my life, and now that I was getting ready to tell one, I felt elated and giddy. “What’s happening…you know…in the bedroom…”
“Don’t be a prude,” Ethel snapped. “Just spit it out.”
“It’s fantastic. Better than it’s ever been. But everything else…it’s just awful. I’m starting to feel like I can’t stand it.”
“Really?” Ethel said, sounding furious and excited at once. “Well, what are you going to do about it? Where are you going to go?”
“Wait a minute. I’m not talking about leaving. I wouldn’t ever. Sterling is my husband,” I said.
“I know you’re not. I know he is.”
“But it sounded like you were suggesting…”
“You’re the one who said you couldn’t take it anymore, that’s all.”
“I’m married,” I said. “I made a commitment.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot. You’ve always been the loyal wife.”
“I have,” I said. And I meant it. I wouldn’t leave Sterling alone, no matter how badly he treated me. “What was it like in Paris?” I asked. With Ethel, I’ve learned how to change the subject.
“Oh, Paris…Paris was fabulous–I still miss it everyday–but nothing you would like. The coffee shops are full of sad-eyed whores with fabulous hats. The boulevards are wide and everywhere you go you hear people speaking French, like lovely warm rivers of silvery water washing over you. And there are little stands selling crepes everywhere along the streets.”
“Crepes?” I asked. She couldn’t see that I was smiling.
“Oh you know. Aunt Pauline used to make them only she didn’t know better than to call them egg pancakes. Anyway, Paris you wouldn’t appreciate at all.”
“I need to go,” I said.
“You hurry to the store and make something that actually tastes good for Sterling’s supper,” Ethel advised. “You’ve been looking so washed out lately–the only hope you have of getting to his heart is through his stomach.”
A week or so later Nancy called and said I was first on the housing list if I wanted to move out, but that I shouldn’t tell Sterling I was leaving because he might become angry, even violent. I told Nancy I’d wait until he planned a big hunting trip, until he was sure to be gone a couple of days.
To Be Continued….
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