No One’s a Mystery Rewrite: Wife’s Point of View

I should have taken the time to curl my hair. If I had used up just a few more minutes, I wouldn’t have been on just the right part of the road at just the right time to see them. I would rather not have known.

But I didn’t set my hair. After all, I was only going to the store. I needed to get some ground beef and a new bottle of Worcestershire Sauce for the meat loaf. Jack loves meat loaf. I make it really moist, with plenty of flavor. Sometimes I stuff it with cheese for him. He likes that. Meat loaf isn’t my favorite thing to eat, but I fix it for him, because he loves my meatloaf.

They were speeding when I passed them. His pick-up needed washing. It’s always so dusty and beat up. I like to keep my car clean. I’m fussy about it. I vacuum the gray upholstery, and polish the chrome trim inside and out. I don’t let fingerprints get on the dash. A little blue tree hanging from the radio dial keeps it smelling Mountain Breeze fresh. He’s grateful for the way I take care of the car when we want to go somewhere nice. He never has to have that Caddie cleaned to go out to eat at a nice restaurant. I’m careful with it when I drive too. I watch the speed limits. I never speed. It’s not that I’m worried about getting caught, but they put those signs up for a reason. It’s just not safe to go faster than the posted limit. It’s not good to rush into things. You don’t know what might be ahead. Jack was probably doing eighty miles an hour in that filthy gray pick-up when I passed him. I don’t know why Jack speeds. It’s like he’s running away, always trying to escape from something. Trying to put distance between himself and some menace in his life. In any case, he was going very fast away from home when I passed him. He pushed the girl down onto the floor as soon as he recognized me, but I saw. They were probably coming from that motel down the street from our house. He was late for dinner, so I guess he took his time taking her home. He hardly touched his meatloaf. She’s so young. A little girl, still nothing more than a child. I think I’m going to lose my dinner. Damn that meat loaf. I should have just had mashed potatoes and peas. I should have known better than to eat that red meat. It’s not good for your heart anyway.

Jack hasn’t mentioned a divorce, but I know it’s coming. I can’t live with him anymore, he never really could live with me. It’s not her fault. I’m not sure what it was, but it wasn’t her fault. It was us; we were never right I guess. Thinking about it, I can’t even remember why it was that we got married in the first place. It happened so fast. I suppose we were in love. Or I suppose I was. Jack? Does Jack fall in love? Maybe he does. Maybe he loves her.

I thought about ignoring it. If I pretended it didn’t happen, it might go away. But that doesn’t work. He tried to snuggle up to me when he came to bed, and I almost threw up. His touch was wormy, contaminated. I didn’t want him near me. Right then I knew I couldn’t just go on like I didn’t know what was happening. So I did what Jack never expected. I didn’t plan it, but once I did it there was no turning back. I got out of bed, and stood there in my pale blue silk nightgown, and said good bye to Jack. And in the middle of the night, shivering in the damp cold, I packed my things and put them in the trunk of the car. He just sat there in the old brown chair in the living room and watched me. He had a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand, but he wasn’t drinking it, he just sat and stared. I started up the car and pulled out of the driveway, and when I looked in the rear view mirror he was standing by the gate in the yard, still staring. I looked away and stepped on the gas, and I didn’t have to look down to know I was speeding. But I wasn’t running away from anything, I was running to it. Running to freedom.