Passions in Prose |
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The Thoughtful Husband |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Paul Tate was not usually a thoughtful man. He took things for granted. It wasn’t that he was selfish or uncaring, he just didn’t think about the effects considerate acts could have on the people around him. He was sure he took his wife, Helen for granted although she never accused him of doing so. She was a quiet, shy woman who would have done anything Paul asked of her. He assumed she’d get up and get ready for work before he did, allowing him to take his time in the shower. He was sure she’d always put the coffee on a timer so he wouldn’t have to wait for it to be ready when he sat down at the kitchen table. He was positive that she would have the evening meal prepared in time for him to enjoy a leisurely dinner at the end of his work day. He was sure that they loved each other, in a way that old lovers do after their children are married and moved out. He was sure. And so on that Wednesday when his office was shut down at ten o’clock in the morning due to a water leak, Paul decided to do something thoughtful for his wife. He’d take her lunch. He went to Helen’s favorite deli and had them prepare two turkey sandwiches on whole-wheat rolls, two sides of coleslaw and two large dill pickles. Helen’s office had a refrigerator and he knew that she kept a supply of ice tea to drink so he decided not to buy drinks at the deli. Paul approached the six story building that housed the accounting firm that employed Helen. He was sure he had never been there, never seen her office (a cubicle really, she always clarified.) He had never met her peers, though he had spoken to a woman once a few years ago when she called to ask Helen to bring a cake for someone’s birthday. It was odd now, thinking about it, that Paul’s coworkers were as familiar to Helen as they were to him. She stopped by once a month and always joined him at company functions. She was quite well liked by the other wives, which of course, Paul took for granted. He pulled open the heavy glass door and entered the reception area. No one was allowed upstairs without first being announced by the receptionist sitting at a semi-circular desk. Helen had mentioned that after the 9/11 tragedy. Every building in New York was taking extra precautions. He approached the desk and smiled, waiting while the receptionist (her name tag identified her as Tiffany Sloan) finished a call. “May I help you?” she asked pleasantly. “Yes, would you ring Helen Tate.” He briefly considered adding ‘my wife’ to the request but decided it would make his appearance here more of a mystery to Ms. Sloan. He smiled as she looked in a rolodex. “I’m sorry sir, but there is no one by that name employed here.” Ms. Sloan looked back at him with small creases in her forehead. “I’m sure she is. Are you new here?” he asked. “No, I’ve worked as a receptionist here for almost a year. I would certainly know if someone by that name worked here. Perhaps you have the wrong address?” “Could you check with someone upstairs please?” he asked, suddenly feeling a bit strange. “I’m sure this is the correct address.” “Well, deliveries have been known to…” “Please just check,” Paul urged as he interrupted her. “Of course sir.” Ms. Sloan dialed a number and whispered questions to the person on the other end. Paul could seen her nod a couple of times and looked up at him with a small smile. When she hung up, she smiled even broader. “It seems there’s been some mistake.” “Yes, yes of course. No problem.” Paul sighed. “No. I mean a mistake in the delivery address. There was a Mrs. Tate who worked here but she hasn’t been here for almost two years.” The phone on the desk rang and Paul was dismissed by a nod of Ms. Sloan’s head. He walked from the building and stood just outside the door, watching the noon time crowd milling around. “What on earth?” he muttered aloud. Reaching for his cellphone, he dialed Helen’s number. He hadn’t done so earlier as he wanted to surprise her. “Hello.” “Helen?” he asked. “Yes. Paul? Is something wrong?” there was concern in Helen’s voice. “No,” he lied. Something told him to conceal his discovery. “I wanted to know if you’d like to join me for lunch.” “Today?” ‘Yes, right now actually. We can meet anywhere near your building. It won’t take long for me to get there.” “What a wonderful idea! But I can’t today. You see, Martha Page is getting divorced and we’re taking her out for a support lunch….all women you know. I’d invite you along but I think a man would be out of place.” “Well, some other time then?” he asked. To him his voice sounded hollow and lifeless, but Helen apparently didn’t notice. “Some other time.” She agreed. “See you tonight,” Paul said. “Yes. Bye now!” And that was it. Paul turned off his cell phone and walked back towards his office. Just as he got to the door, he realized he’d forgotten it was closed for the day. He looked down at the bag of sandwiches in his hand and realized he was hungry. He walked a few blocks to a small park area and sat down to eat.After two bites of one of the sandwiches, he realized he had nothing to drink. His mouth was suddenly dry. He wrapped the partially eaten sandwich in its paper and put it back in the bag. A trash can stood a couple of feet from the bench on which he was sitting. Paul wadded the bag and tossed it into the can. He didn’t seem surprised that he made the shot. He took it for granted…. He stopped thinking. He felt sad and somehow lost but he had no idea what to do. Should he confront Helen? What on earth had she been doing for two years instead of going to work? He never checked their bank statement so he never knew if she wasn’t contributing to the monthly income….he just took it for granted… It was the strangest afternoon Paul could remember. He walked around the city until it was nearly dark…time for him to catch the evening train home. As he sat in the back of the train, he thought he should have hidden somewhere near the train station at about the time Helen would be going home. But how could he know if she even worked in the city? What if she worked somewhere else? What if she didn’t work? Where would she spend her days? Paul’s mind raced as the train sped towards it’s destination. He got his car from the lot at the train station and drove home automatically. It was something he did five times a week, fifty weeks a year. He knew it was exactly 9.8 miles from the parking lot to his driveway. He never stopped, Helen never asked him to pick up anything on his way home. He just took it for granted that everything was in order at home. He got out of the car and walked slowly to the front door. It wouldn’t be locked. Helen made sure she left it open when she came in so he wouldn’t have to fumble with a key at night. She was considerate of him. She worried that he was tired…or she used to. Lately, Paul couldn’t remember if Helen asked him about his day and if he was tired. Lately, Paul didn’t know much of anything apparently. He could hear Helen humming in the kitchen as she put the food on the table. Helen never hummed. No, he corrected himself. That’s not true…lately she’d been humming in the shower in the morning. He’d heard her in his half awake-half asleep state. And she was smiling more..that he was certain of…she smiled when he walked into the kitchen. “Have a good day at work?” he asked. “Yes. The usual,” she replied. “Are you hungry? We’re having meatloaf.” And that was it. Paul sat down and ate dinner with his wife. He glanced up at her and smiled and she smiled back as normal. There was some small talk, as usual, but Paul never liked to talk at the table. He took it for granted that Helen didn’t either. He took it for granted. Paul opened his mouth to ask the million questions that plagued him all afternoon. Helen stood up and busied herself cleaning up. Paul never helped. He took it for granted that she would refuse his help. He rose from the chair and started to leave the room. He heard Helen humming. He turned and left the room. *** The inspiration for this work came from 'Writersdigest.com'...they have daily writers inspirations that are wonderful to jog the muse! |
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© Copyright 2006 Poet deVine - All Rights Reserved | |||
nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
well??? I want to know what she's been doing..or did I miss something ![]() M |
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Alicat Member Elite
since 1999-05-23
Posts 4094Coastal Texas |
Not a potboiler in the normal literary sense, but in the figurative. And here's why. Watched pot never boils, and the main character never watched and never knew if the pot was boiling or not...the infamous Schroedinger's Cat paradox. This is a thinker, for certain, as I'm having thoughts and rememberances which I really don't care all that much for having, but am having all the same. Now to think some more. |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Here is a link to the website that gave me the inspiration: http://www.writersdigest.com/101sites/categorysearch.asp?year_101=2005 I thought about taking the story farther...finding the mystery..but I was so excited by the premise of the man who found out such a well-kept secret that I wanted to end it to make you think about it. Sort of like tearing the last page out of a novel..you have to supply the ending. Really, I'm not sure what Helen is doing with her life - maybe I'll get inspired to write the end...maybe not. Don't take it for granted though! ![]() |
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
Very good. Waiting for more. best to you, martyjo |
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desert-spike Member
since 2006-02-01
Posts 194TX/USA |
I'm running under my own conclusion that Helen is having an affair, and has been for some time, safe in the knowledge that Paul, being wrapped up in himself would never notice. That was wonderfully written, and very visual. I'd like to see a sequel to that. As much fun as opene ended writings are, I'm dying to know if paul ever finds out what's with all the humming. |
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Marshalzu![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
since 2001-02-15
Posts 2681Lurking |
I have to say that I really enjoyed reading this wonderful piece of writing, it certainly got me thinking about a whole number of things that I hadn’t really considered before. Anyway great writing, I am looking forward to maybe seeing some more of this story. Andrew ![]() |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
grin If we could choose scenarios? I'd have it that Helen had been working at HIS firm for a year and a half as an executive administrator. He could discover this when he is laid off via a memo, with initials, "H.T." But I am evil and have issues. ![]() Loved this you! ![]() |
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Mysteria![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
If I told you my take on her day the thread would have to be moved ![]() ![]() |
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majnu![]()
since 2002-10-13
Posts 1088SF Bay Area |
predictable and trite. sorry but this one strikes out. -majnu |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Predictable and trite? Then I challenge you to write it better... |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
"predictable and trite." As is your reply, maj. I'm with PdV here. I used to think the same of Romance novels--then I tried to write one. Now I know why Sidney Sheldon drinks. Give it a shot, maj. I am curious to see your spin on the challenge. ![]() |
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Mysteria![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
Majnu, I could appreciate your opinion more if only it were asked for, which I don't believe it was. ![]() I wish to also "invite/challenge" you to write this story in the sense you figure it won't be trite and predictible. I am really looking forward to reading it. [This message has been edited by Mysteria (02-10-2006 12:38 AM).] |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
PDV: Long time, no see. I liked this piece. It makes us wonder what Tate is really doing at the dinner table in the end. I like the way you take the concept of "status quo" (taking everything for granted) and play around with it, kinda like this piece is a domestic and everyday-life version of "The Matrix." What other tricks has Helen up her sleves? Best to leave that out so as to keep us all in shock about Paul's discovery. Finally, your use of irony is to be commended. It is ironic that Paul's desire to rock the boat a bit makes him privy to just how far up the creek the boat's really gone. He has a quiet wife and his marriage is not so silently hitting the rocks. Any idiot can see that the result is true. |
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the_girl_next_door Senior Member
since 2006-02-26
Posts 591USA |
OMG!! this was amazing.. I loved it great great job.. I love how this leaves the reader wondering about what is going on.. the whole scenario about Helen working at his office is a good resolution.. but.. it could be just about anything.. great job.. ~heather Desire nothing except desirelessness. Hope for nothing except to rise above all hopes. |
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