The Good Wife
Stand By Your Man by Tammy Wynette. Always.
“This process is incredibly difficult.” I hear myself say, just as we have rehearsed a thousand times. “It’s harder than we imagined, and we imagined that it might be hard. But at the end of the day, our faith is strong, and we know that we’re on the right path. And we’re just going to stick to it, so.”
He stands over my side of the bed swaying back and forth. His eyes are bloodshot. He breathes through his nose like an animal ready to charge. I brace myself. Here we go again.
Always the we, always the unity, always the standing by him. I didn’t even get asked. It was just assumed that I would. That is what I signed up for. In sickness and in health. That is how it works.
The glass splinters against the fridge door. Whatever little scotch was left in there is running down in three separate streams. It was another of the crystal tumblers from our wedding. I don’t want the girls to step in the shards but I will have to wait to clean it up until he has passed out. It shouldn’t be long now.
Satisfied that I have played my part, the host moves on to him. Spends her time detailing the allegations, before she serves him a simple yes or no question. I look at him the whole time as instructed. He is not nervous. He has no reason to be. The host is not out to get him and even if she was it would not matter. The interview is a nice warm blanket of support. It is almost an apology for what he has to go through.
He has me up against the door in the library with his whole body. His face is next to mine. A speck of spit hits my earlobe. He puts his hand over my mouth. There is someone in the hallway looking for the restroom. I know better than to make a sound. Then I will pay double when we get home. So I let him do what he wants.
He has assured me that he has never done a thing like that, but that is what he has to tell himself and the world. That is what he has to cling to. His lifesaver. If he lets even a sliver of doubt in it is game over. He knows this. He knows that I know this, too.
We are on our honeymoon. Even without the sign on the door, the hotel staff knows not to disturb us. At first, I was shocked but that was days ago. Now I am numb. A mindless thing that belongs to him. He doesn’t have to be nice anymore.
“No. I know him.” I say on cue. “I’ve known him for many years. And this is not at all in his character; it’s really hard to believe. He’s decent, he’s kind, he’s good. I know his heart. This is not consistent with — with him.”
Regitze Ladekarl has re-emerged as a raconteur after a long, successful career elsewhere. She crafts universal tales from everyday lives with an honest, sharp and witty pen. Besides working on a forthcoming novel, she flexes her voice with personal essays, flash fiction, and method writing here on Medium.
Subscribe to her newsletter here and you will never miss a good story.
Thank you!
