How do women respond when faced with the dreadful reality of men being unfaithful in their marriage. This story is about a wife being touched by the very same issue and who tries to cope with the situation by being more adventurous with her new acquaintance.
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I must admit that Martha is an exceptionally effective woman. She has short cropped hair, with a long, asymmetrical fringe that falls over one eye. Martha's skin is stretched like a semisena, unlike mine, even though she is several years older than me. I have no illusions that this is the result of frequent treatments and interference of the best specialist in aesthetic medicine in the city. Her husband happens to be the person. But this slim, muscular body is due to her stubbornness and determination.
She greets me with kisses on both cheeks and hands me her coat. I obediently hide it in the wardrobe and watch in the mirror as Martha smooths a red satin dress across her stomach. What would I give to wear a dress like that. Sadly, I cannot wear tight dresses any longer. She is petite, everything is slender: even slanted eyes and lips - like a porcelain doll from the 30s. Breasts standing at attention, protruding out under the slippery material. The deep neckline reveals a tiny characteristic mole in the shape of a fuzzy diamond.
I now feel like a donut in frosting wearing my powder pink dress that was supposed to look youthful and natural. Richard pulls a chair for Martha and asks me to prepare a martini with two olives for her. Ron, Martha's husband, will drink 16-year-old whiskey that he keeps for special occasions. I will divulge myself with plain water. This is going to be a long night. I make drinks and then head back to the kitchen to season the lettuce. I hear all three of them discuss their patients lively. In the past, their stories even amused me.
"Sweetheart, can I have a coffee, please?" Richard says.
Martha materializes in the kitchen. I have a feeling she stood there longer and stared at me before deciding to speak.
"I'm dead on my feet," she continues.
"I recovered thirty fibroids today from a woman whose uterus had been removed at another hospital. Routine work... and then I stayed in the office receiving at least twenty patients today. One came in, in her fifties. Overgrown so I wanted to cut her with office scissors, can you believe it?
What are they thinking? I ask when was the last time she went to the gynecologist and she said that on her third child. Twenty years ago! I can't believe it... Eh, sometimes I would just sit at home like you and rest..."
I serve her coffee made in an espresso machine, which Richard and Barbara brought from Italy many years ago. Martha absorbs the rising aroma and takes a sip. She has pulled one foot out of the heels and is massaging her calf with it.
"Sweetheart!" She suddenly exclaims, and the meat tongs I held almost fall out of my hands. She takes my hand and studies me with the eyes of a disgruntled teacher scolding a student. I have the impression that she is about to reach for the ruler. Or for office scissors...
"I must point you to my manicurist, your hands curse the heavens in frustration. If you don't take care of yourself, Richard will look for someone else."
"Will he now. Because I have unfinished nails?"
Martha looks at me pityingly.
"Child... Do you know how many patients he receives would be willing to remove their panties for him?" And not for testing mind you. I bet there would be huge line formed up to his office
.
"Okay? How do you know?"
My patients do not come to me well-shaved and with a new pedicure. I'm telling you this, sweetie, for your own good. Home is home, children are children, but you also have to look after yourself. If not for yourself, then for your husband. She sums up and leaves the kitchen.
I watch my reflection in the oven. Even though I had straightened my hair for half an hour, my hair curled again into a shapeless nest due to steaming flesh. I didn't have time to paint my nails. In any case, it wouldn't make much difference. The hands are dry and rough, with protruding cuticles. Swollen enough that I had to remove the rings.
I feel tears streaming under my eyelids. I take a few deep breaths. You have to serve dinner, I try and motivate myself. I'll take care of myself another time.
"It all looks so beautiful! Martha claps her hands as I finish fetching starters from the kitchen and set the platter of steaming tenderloin a little too close to her. As if she was sunburnt, she pulls away from it. Richard rushes to help her and sets the dish in the center of the table, scowling at me.
"Watch out!" he growls.
"Nothing happened." Martha gives him a sweet smile.
"By the way I forgot to tell you, Ron and I haven't eaten meat for two weeks". She looks at Richard apologetically.
***
I love Shania because I lost my virginity to her album and not in a musical way. I feel good whenever she sings. Her vocals and the scent of the pine forest bring up fond memories from my first time.
