Partners

Partners

His habit of cleaning his finger nails with the vegetable knife and
exploring the inside of his ears with the blunt end of a burnt out
matchstick was not particularly attractive, even to a wife of only
three weeks duration. His use of matches for cigarettes seemed
curiously old fashioned, but she reasoned that refillable lighters were
the wrong shape for clearing wax from ear cavities. She thought she
might bring the subject of personal hygiene up at a later date, when
things were more settled. Laura didn't wish to offend him so early in
their marriage.

At thirty-eight she was grateful to have been asked. As her mother so
often remarked, Laura had been on the shelf so long she would need
dusting and it was not sensible or realistic for someone so plain to be
choosy about a husband. There was, she instructed, "No Mr Right," only
men who were acceptable, could be depended on for financial support and
preferably ones who wouldn't stray too often. To expect anything more
was idealistic, and impossible for a woman like her who was so rapidly
approaching the menopause. Her mother never minced words.

There had been one or two relationships in her past: a brief fumble
outside the school gates after a disco the Christmas when she was
fifteen, a two month affair with her immediate supervisor who was newly
divorced and liked younger girls, and a neighbour's reclusive son who
sent her a card on her birthday, with kisses. Laura shared none of
these experiences with her mother.

Being plain was something she had become used to but the constant
reminders from her mother of the increasing need to find a partner
gradually wore her into submission. After all, it was natural for her
mother to crave grandchildren, and as an only child, it was her
responsibility. Marriage would at least give her a legitimate reason
for leaving.

She had been aware of him for several years when he visited her office
as the pharmaceutical representative for laxatives but only remembered
that he had square shaped feet, covered in Hush Puppy suede, which was
slightly scuffed.

When she heard of his wife's death, she was sorry for him in a vague
way but she remembered to give lip service to condolences on his next
visit. Laura was surprised at his invitation to lunch. Afterwards he
thanked her. Being recently widowed, he had enjoyed female company. She
was flattered.

She received a bunch of flowers the next day, dyed carnations in a
silver and cellophane cone. The supply of "garage flowers," continued
for some months. His persistence and her mother's platitudes convinced
her that marital status was preferable to spinsterhood. It was
practical rather than romantic.

At his suggestion, they had honeymooned in Cornwall. He disliked
foreign places and although he had a steady income, felt they should
save for retirement. They were, after all, getting no younger.

He had grudgingly agreed to try for a baby, although the enthusiasm he
had for his children of his first marriage had dimmed; now he was so
much older but he couldn't see a problem, if it was what they both
wanted.

Considering his presumed experience and her lack of it, she was
disappointed in the rapidity and monotony of their love making both at
peak times and the occasional Saturday evening. She was glad of the
escape between times.

Even living with her mother had not intruded so noticeably with her
independence. At least she had been allowed one night a week at a local
Bistro with her office colleagues, provided she returned by 10.

On Sundays her mother visited, usually complaining about the state of
her health and Laura's." lack of fertility. Women's hormones slow down
at thirty. You're cutting it a bit fine, if you don't mind me
remarking."

Laura did explain that they were both doing their best, having sex at
the most productive time of the month and using a thermometer. At least
it gave her a reason, above obligation to him and might at sometime,
please her mother. Occasionally he requested his rights outside of the
appointed times; she felt she had to agree but the only pleasure she
derived was the relief of reaching for the tissues and his rolling over
to sleep.

On one of the appointed nights, she had lit candles, carefully folded
serviettes into the form of bishop's mitres and cooked a meal from a
recipe in a book she had borrowed from the library, "Gourmet Cooking
For Two," to show that she was making the required effort.

He ate the food , stubbed his cigarette in the bottom of his coffee cup
at the end of the meal and remarked, she didn't have to go to such
trouble, while fancy food was expected "down south" , plain food was
what he preferred and was what his first wife had served for all their
married life. It had done him no harm.

His lack of personal sanitation still caused her annoyance. Missing the
toilet bowl was understandable but not cleaning up afterwards, she
found difficult to forgive. He should have noticed the stains.

He insisted that, "a real wife," wouldn't want to work, especially if
she were serious about future motherhood. Women who worked in offices
were often tempted, and "flings" with colleagues an occupational
hazard. He had read an article in the Telegraph.

Her CD collection was housed, by his insistence, in the attic. She was
allowed a few that he considered appropriate. Emmylou Harris sang in
French, which he found unnecessarily sexual, especially for an
American. Radiohead were plainly moronic and relied on swear words for
attention. The lyrics were clearly not the kind of words suitable for a
woman, particularly a respectable wife. Music, he felt, especially
modern stuff, was only for the intellectually lazy or over romantic. He
hoped she did not fit into either category.

She played her music when he was away, imagining that she could at
least pretend to be young and open to new ideas. His travels were a
relief, although she believed she should have missed him.

The Sundays were a great pleasure to her mother and husband. The mother
enjoyed his company, he was safe and predictable. They shared similar
views on the breakdown of moral society and reminisced about better
days.

They both liked to get comfortable after a roast Sunday lunch, half
watching the afternoon movie and snoozing haphazardly.

On waking, her mother remarked that Laura did not realise how lucky she
was. She had after all cut it a little fine. Laura watched as her
husband appeared to nod, whether through sleepiness or in agreement,
she was not sure but for the first time, she noticed their
similarities. The two wore Sunday afternoon, comfortable cardigans and
soft woollen slippers and both knew that their own and shared opinions
were indisputable, especially where Laura was concerned.

Her mother and husband guided her towards expected wifely duties, most
of which she found both disagreeable and disappointing. The only
difference in terms of her relationships with her husband and her
mother she decided, was that she didn't actually feel obliged to have
sex with her mother.

Sundays, when the three were together, proved predictable, and
increasingly irritating to her. One particular Sunday, six months after
their marriage, her mother suggested that Laura should see her doctor
to have her "workings checked." After all her husband had, "proved
himself in the past."

On Monday as an unnoticed but necessary rebellion, she played her
music at a volume that would certainly not be tolerated by either
relation and was remarked on by the neighbours. She had tested
positive. The blue line was hers, a cord, which freed her.

At three o'clock she collected her records and locked the door behind
her. If initially shocked by her departure, they would at least have
their Sundays to discuss her failings.