Margaret Millar - Wives and Lovers

She stood in the narrow closet listening to her fearful heart and the pressing of the wind against the windows. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t take one step forward or backward for fear that step would be heard around the world.

At that moment she came, as close as she’d ever come, to some kind of revelation, but the moment passed and her mind had to withdraw to protect itself. She began to grope for some simple easy explanation that would shift the weight of responsibility. It’s this wind, she thought. I always get nervy like this when the wind blows in from the desert. It used to affect my classes too. The children were all cross and I had quite a time controlling them. They used to sag over their desks, their eyes reddened with dust—

She put on a wrap-around cotton dress that Josephine had given to her when Josephine had become too big to wear it any longer. She felt quite ashamed of herself for becoming irritated with Josephine. It was the wind, of course. Now that she realized that fact, she could discipline herself better. For the rest of the day she would force herself to be pleasant and to smile when she didn’t feel like it. She had the will power, she could do it. Ignore the desert wind.

She heard the front door slam and she knew it must be Hazel coming home because Harold always closed doors very softly to avoid startling Josephine. Bracing herself (against the wind, the drop of water, the knot of string) she went out to the living room.

She told Hazel the news while Hazel sat on the davenport rubbing her eyes.

“You don’t seem very surprised,” Ruth said.

“Not so very. My God, it’s hot. Is there some cold juice or something in the refrigerator?”

“Grapefruit juice. Don’t rub your eyes like that. You’re only rubbing the dust in, not getting it out.”

“It feels good anyway.”

“If you’re not surprised it means you must have had your suspicions all along. Mrs. Foster asked me that last night, and I said, of course not. Hazel’s never said a word except what a wonderful man Dr. Foster is. I said, I’m sure Hazel would never condone anything like that.”

“Like what?”

“His running around with other women.”

“He didn’t,” Hazel said deliberately. “There was just one woman.”

“How do you know?”

“Someone told me.”

“That’s even worse. It — it practically proves that they were — cohabiting.”

“If they weren’t, they soon will be.”

“I’m shocked to the core by your attitude, Hazel. You don’t seem to realize—”

“How’s Elaine taking it?”

“How would anyone take it? She’s beside herself, the poor woman. This morning he had the nerve to phone her and tell her, bold as brass, to go out and get a divorce. Naturally she refused. She said never, no matter what happens, will she disgrace her church and her parents and her children by becoming a divorced woman. And I agree with her. She’s convinced that divorce is wrong and I admire her for standing by her convictions.”

“Crap.”

Ruth’s face grew pale with disapproval. “I wish you — you really shouldn’t use words like that, Hazel. I know it’s your house and all that but—”

“All right, I’ll say baloney then, but it’s the same thing no matter how you slice it.”

“Really, Hazel!”

“I get so damn tired of your admiration for that snippy little bitch. I know why she’s not getting a divorce, because she’s too damn mean for one thing. It would kill her to see Gordon have a life of his own. And also because she knows she’ll never get another husband if she lets Gordon go.”

“Such a thought would never occur to her,” Ruth said harshly. “And I’m surprised at you, Hazel. You talk as if you actually approve of Dr. Foster and what he’s done.”

“I’ve always approved of him, why should I change now? A good man doesn’t turn into a bad man overnight.”

“That’s all very well, but we must judge people by their actions. There’s no other way to judge them, and you—”

Hazel raised her voice to interrupt. “I don’t want to judge them. I want to go on liking the people I like and making excuses for them when I have to, and having a few excuses made for me too.”

“Moral softness. I want no excuses made for me, ever.”

“You need them, like everyone else.”

“I wouldn’t take them!” Ruth shouted, making a wild gesture with her fists. “I wouldn’t listen!”

“Don’t get so worked up. I wasn’t trying to—”

“I don’t want any excuses from anybody. Discipline, not excuses, that’s what we need in this world, more self-denial and discipline. Oh yes, I can see what you’re thinking now — poor Ruth, she can’t help getting worked up, she had a nervous breakdown and lost her job, and she’s an old maid too, of course, and her father was—”

“Stop guessing,” Hazel said. “If you want to know what I was thinking I’ll tell you. I was thinking that people who are hard on themselves the way you are, are usually pretty hard on other people too.”

“Not hard enough.”

“Elaine Foster’s kind of like that too. I can’t explain it so well, but maybe if she liked herself a little better and had a little more self-respect, she’d be better off.”

“Well, well! You’re getting to be quite a psychologist, Hazel Anderson. You’ve got Mrs. Foster and me all figured out, and the trouble with us is we have no self-respect!”

“I meant, respect for yourselves as you really are, not expecting to be perfect and accepting the fact that you’ve got a few human weaknesses that maybe aren’t so bad after all.”

“No self-respect, eh?” Ruth cried. “And what do you think you’ve got, the kind of things you do, drinking and carrying on and traipsing after your divorced husband—”

Josephine came to the door with an anxious little smile on her face. “Gee whiz, the way you two sound you’d think you were quarreling. Mrs. Hatcher’s outside working in her garden, she’s bound to hear every word you say.”

“That’s all right,” Hazel said. “We’re finished.”

“We have finished,” Ruth corrected her. “We are finished would mean we are dead.”

“Close enough to suit me.”

“The least I can do in exchange for your analysis of my character is to give you a free lesson in English grammar.”

Josephine turned on her and said hotly, “That’s no way to speak to Hazel after all she’s—”

“You stay out of this,” Hazel said. Then she addressed Ruth in a quieter voice, “I’m sorry if I said anything to hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

“Hurt me,” Ruth sneered. “You can’t hurt me. I don’t allow myself to be hurt.”

“There you go again. Don’t kid yourself.”

“And I repeat, you don’t have to make any excuses for me, Hazel Anderson. I don’t require them and I don’t believe in them, for me or anybody else, let alone a man like Dr. Foster. A man that leaves his wife and children and runs off with another woman is a bad man. He stands condemned by his own action in the eyes of all decent people.”

“Maybe I’m not decent.”

“If the shoe fits, wear it.”

“There’s a car stopping out front,” Josephine said nervously. “You two just better quit arguing right now.”

Hazel got up to look out of the window. Then, without a word of explanation, she picked up her purse from the top of the radio and went outside.

Gordon was alone in the car. Though Hazel had seen him only twenty-four hours ago, he seemed to have changed more than a day’s worth. Wearing the old slack suit that she’d seen hanging in his office and needing a shave, he looked like an ordinary workingman relaxing on a Sunday morning. There was none of that do-or-die air about him that he put on along with his white surgeon’s coat.