A Shattered Wife Read Free Page A

Lines creased her face and wisps of silver hair hung limply on her
thin neck.
    Before letting her see him, William made an attempt to
adjust his thick glasses and emotions. Neither action was successful. The
ordeal that lay ahead was not a welcome one, yet he had expected it sooner or
later. His parents were growing old and, like it or not, it was his duty to
care for them.
    When Martha looked up she smiled weakly and went to him with
open arms. "You look so tired and thin," she said, reaching to touch
his face.
    "I worked yesterday and haven’t gotten much sleep,"
he explained, trying not to sound impatient. "How’s dad?"
    Sudden hot tears sprang to her eyes for the first time since
they had taken Bill away. She turned her face from him.
    "Mom?" William's voice held a note of
exasperation. If his father was dead, he wanted to know.
    "He’s been hurt badly. He has a broken leg and he may
be…uh…he might be…." Martha fished a crinkled handkerchief out of her
pocket and blew her nose.
    "What? Might be what?" William shook her gently.
    "Paralyzed…."
    "Might be?"
    "It might be only temporary. They won’t know for a few
days," Martha sobbed, finding it almost impossible to talk. So far she had
held up, but now there was someone to lean on. She didn’t have to be strong as
long as William was home.
    The same hands that shook Martha moments before now pulled
her to him and he was immediately sorry for his thoughts. She drove him crazy
sometimes, but at the moment she looked like a forlorn lost child. William held
her until she stopped crying, feeling the corner of her glasses push against
his chest.
    Finally, very softly, he said, "Let’s go see Dad."
    Entering the room, William’s reaction was almost identical
to Martha’s. His father had never been sick, not even with a cold, as far as he
could remember. The terror of trying to live up to his father’s expectations
had, at some point, turned to hatred, but now there was only pity. Seeing the
old man heavily sedated and bedfast reminded him that Bill was just sick, and
more vulnerable than William had ever seen him.
    ***
    After Bill’s accident, questions about money and other
matters surfaced. Martha had no answers of her own and looked to William. "Medicare
won’t cover all of Dad’s expenses," he told her one evening after dinner. "Do
you have hospitalization?"
    Martha shook her head. "I don’t know. You’ll have to
ask your father."
    "I can’t."
    "Why?"’
    "He refuses to answer my questions. He thinks I'm just
being nosy." William didn’t try to hide his frustration.
    "Well, I don’t know anything about it. Your father took
care of all that." Martha's tone was curt, and she busied herself with
clearing the table of food and dishes.
    William shook his head as he watched her bustling back and
forth in her spacious kitchen. She was a plain woman and he had never known her
to wear makeup or have her hair done at a beauty shop. The flat, sensible shoes
that she always wore barely made a sound on the gleaming floor. As far as he
could tell, she was content to live like her mother. She had washed Bill’s
socks and cooked his meals for the last 40 years. He, in turn, had been in
charge of everything else, including their finances. Martha was more than
mentally equipped to handle these affairs, but over the years they had settled
into a comfortable pattern and liked things the way they were. He was in charge
of their stability and she could concentrate on growing her garden, cleaning
her house and caring for her family without the additional worries over money.
    New linoleum was the only change that had been made in the
room since he was a kid. The kitchen was dominated by a huge, well-scrubbed oak
table that his father built before William was born. The few appliances,
including a stove and refrigerator, looked and performed show-room new, and the
faint smell of pine, clean and fresh, hovered in the air. He wondered how
anyone could be so content with so