MY OWN WIFE
How do you manage to live with the same wife for so many years? Whats the secret? My brother never missed the chance to ask me this question whenever he visited.
Love and a world of patience. Thats all there is to it, Id answer the same way every time.
That recipe isnt for me. I love all women. Every one of them is a mystery, and I have no interest in spending my life with a book Ive already read, my brother would grin.
My younger brother, Philip, married at eighteen. His bride, Alice, was ten years his senior. Sweet Alice fell head over heels for him, loving Philip with her whole life. But for him, it was just a bit of fun.
Alice officially settled in the family homewhere seven other relatives livedand gave birth to little Michael. She convinced herself shed caught her happiness by the tail. The young couple were given a tiny room to call their own.
Alice had a lovely collection of porcelain figurines she treasured more than anything. There were ten rare pieces in her collection, and she kept them displayed in pride of place on a battered old dresser. Everyone in the family knew just how much these delicate ornaments meant to her. Alice was often by the dresser, gazing at the figurines with gentle admiration.
At the time, I was still sizing up young women, keen to find the only one Id ever need. I longed for a lifelong match. Ill say up front, I was luckymy dream did come true. Ive now been married to my wife for over fifty years.
Philip lasted ten years with Alice. I don’t think she found much to celebrate in that marriage. She tried her utmost to be a good wife, loved both husband and son, and was always gentle, obedient, and easygoing. What more could Philip have wanted?
One evening my brother came home tipsy. Something about Aliceher look or her mannerirked him. He started nitpicking, making crude jokes, clutching her by the arms. Sensing a row coming, Alice decided it was best to quietly step away. She took Michael and made her way outside. Suddenly, from inside, came a terrible crash. Alice instantly knewit was her beloved figurines shattering. She rushed back in and was met with the gut-wrenching sight of her whole collection in pieces on the floor. Only one figurine had survived, miraculously unscathed. Alice hurried to it, picked it up carefully, and kissed it. She didnt say a word to her brute of a husband, but her eyes brimmed with tears.
After that, a crack ran through their marriage. I suspect Alice disconnected from the family in her mind. She still did her duties, was a respectable wife, a capable homemakerbut everything was done as if by rote, without any real enthusiasm.
Philip began drinking more. Soon, brash and questionable women started appearing in his circle, along with shady acquaintances. Alice suspected as much, but she withdrew into herself and grew distant. Philip barely came home anymore, neglecting his family altogether. Watching him, Alice realised you cant chase the wind across a field. Eventually, she and Philip divorcedquietly, with no shouting, humiliation, or mutual accusations. Alice took Michael and moved back to her childhood town. She left the surviving figurine, standing alone on the dresser, as a memory of herself.
Philip wasnt overly upset. He plunged into a wild life, without brakes or responsibilities. He was easily enchanted and discarded women even quicker. My brother was spinning towards ruin. He married and divorced three times. Loved to drink himself into oblivion. Yet, oddly enough, he was still working at a college as a skilled and respected economist, often invited for consultations around the country. He even published an economics textbook with his name on the cover. People predicted a blazing career ahead for Philip. Drinking and chaos swept all of that away.
At some point, our family thought Philip had calmed down, gotten a grip. We breathed a sigh of relief. He announced he was marrying a stunning woman, and invited us to a quiet wedding. The bride came with a seventeen-year-old son. It was clear to everyone that the stepson and Philip would never see eye to eye.
They were simply too different, too unrelated. Philip ignored this fact at his own risk, and seemed oblivious to what it really meant to take a woman with baggage. In the end, the stepson was the reason for their divorce five years later. The rows grew so fierce, they nearly came to blows. No reconciliation ever materialised.
After that, Philips life became a whirligig of fleeting romances: Lily, Emily, Grace and others. He adored them all, convinced himself each one was the partner for life.
But life had its own plans. At fifty-three, Philip fell terminally ill. By then, not a single cherished woman remained near him. They had all slipped silently and forever out of his life. My sisters and I nursed bedridden Philip.
Simon, theres a suitcase under my bed. Fetch it for me, he wheezed, struggling to even speak.
I found the dusty old suitcase beneath his bed, opened it, and gasped in surprise. It was packed with porcelain figurines, each one delicately wrapped in a soft cloth to keep it safe.
I collected those for my Alice. I could never forget the silent reproach in her eyes when she saw her collection smashed to pieces. She suffered more than enough with me. Remember all those business trips I took around the country? I bought a figurine in every place I could. Theres a false bottom in the suitcase. Take the money from there. Its all my savings. Give it to Alice. Tell her I hope she forgives me. We wont see each other again. Simon, promise me youll deliver this all to Alice, Philip turned towards the wall.
All right, Philip, I promise, I croaked, feeling my throat tighten. I could see my brother was slipping away for good.
Theres an envelope with Alice’s address under my pillow. Take it, he never turned to face me again. He just couldnt.
Alice was still living in the town where she grew up. Michael was ill with a mysterious condition; the doctors could only shrug and suggest they try Europe for help. This I discovered from a letter Alice had sentkept under Philips pillow. She and Philip had stayed in touch, at least by letter. Alice wrote to him, but Philip never replied.
After we buried my brother, I set off to fulfil his last request.
I met Alice at a small country station. She was overjoyed to see me and embraced me warmly.
Oh, Simon, you look just like Philip! The very image of him.
I handed her the suitcase and passed on Philips apology, as Id promised:
Alice, forgive your wayward husband. This is for you. Theres money inside, and something else from Philip. Look through it at home. All right? You were always Philips own wife. Dont forget that.
We parted ways for good.
I received only one letter from her after that.
Simon, thank you and Philip for everything. Im grateful to God that Philip was a part of my life. Michael and I managed to sell the figurines to a real collector who valued them. I could never quite look at them in peace, knowing whose hands had once held them. Its a pity Philip left so soon. With the money, we managed to move to Canada. My sister had been asking for ages. Nothing held me in England any longer. I held onto one last hopethat Philip would ask for me back. He never didbut Im happy knowing he truly considered me his own wife. That means he never quite fell out of love with me. By the way, Michael likes it here. Hes feeling much better. Goodbye.
No return address was given.
