Twenty-Five Years a Stand-In Wife

The whole class sighed over it.

He had carved her into his heart, and he picked her out without effort.

And in twenty-five years, I had never once stepped into his line of sight.

That night, Walter slept closer to me than usual. I lay awake again.

The next day, news reached me that left me stunned.

Lillian had gotten divorced.

I called her, not understanding.

"How did this happen?"

Her laugh came easy.

"We weren't right for each other anymore. Splitting up was the only answer."

I sat out on the balcony the whole afternoon.

So it turned out that I, lying awake beside Walter, wasn't right for him anymore either.

And the answer to that, too, was only one.

Once I'd thought it through, I took the savings I'd built up over the years and split them in two. One half I moved into the household account.

Walter covered most of our expenses. Call it paying him back.

The money I'd set aside for our son's wedding was in there too.

The other half I used to find a place in a senior living community out in the green suburbs.

Even at this age, a divorce takes time, and I needed somewhere to land.

A staff member called to confirm my move-in date.

As it happened, Walter had forgotten something and come back home.

He heard my end of the conversation, his eyes full of confusion.

"Why go somewhere that far?"

"I signed up for a tour group for seniors. To unwind."

More than once I'd suggested we travel together. He'd never given me an answer either way.

Once the place out there was all set up,

I finally worked up the courage to say goodbye to Walter.

I started waiting at five in the afternoon.

By nine at night, he still wasn't home.

I opened my phone, typed out a message and deleted it, over and over.

Afraid he was busy.

Afraid, too, that he'd think I was throwing a fit. I had waited until everything was settled for a reason: I wanted him to see how seriously I'd weighed this.

The next moment, my son sent me a photo.

"Mom, after work Dad and I had dinner with Davina and her mom."

Our son sat beside Davina. Hilda sat next to Walter.

The warmth of it spilled right off the screen.

It stung my eyes.

Once again, I had failed to see where I stood.

Walter would rather marry our son off to Hilda's daughter than not become family with her.

I should have known to bow out long ago.

Yet even planning my exit had taken me days.

When Walter came home,

I had just stuffed the last piece of clothing into the suitcase.

He saw the case, confused for a moment before it came back to him.

"Leaving this early?"

Then he stumbled over and buried his head against my shoulder.

"I've been drinking, my head hurts. Honey, rub it for me."

In all these years he'd rarely been clingy with me, and only ever after drinking.

I just stood there, expressionless, and when he set my hand on his head, I pulled it away, hard.

"Walter, I've decided to give you back to Hilda."