Page 10 of The Wilder Widows

“Then you’re not a lesbian,” Alice stated with certainty.

“How do you figure?” I asked.

Her manicured hand swept her lithe body. “Well, hello! Because look at me. If she liked the ladies, she’d certainly want some of this.”

Laughing, I shook my head. “That’s not accurate, Alice. Just because you look like that doesn’t mean she’s instantly attracted to you.”

“I was the first time I saw you.” Marge shrugged.

Alice sat forward, and her face illuminated from the admission. “You were?”

“Then you talked, and that fantasy went out the window.”

“Go to hell, Marge.” Alice crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

Doris, Marge, and I burst into laughter while Alice feigned her anger.

Leaning forward, Doris whispered. “So, how does one know for sure if they’re, you know... a lesbian.”

“I’m not sure. I never really thought about acting on it,” Marge said. “I had feelings for some ladies when I was younger, and in that day and age, it wasn’t acceptable, so when I met Percy, I decided to just get married and pretend they’d never happened.”

“That’s sad, Marge,” I said. “You never really got to find out if you are a lesbian, and maybe could have found a wonderful woman just perfect for you.”

“I’m not sad about it. Percy was my best friend. Even though the romance wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have traded a second of our life together for a tryst with a beautiful woman.”

I sighed at her statement, and this time it was my eyes brimming with tears. “That’s beautiful, Marge. You two were lucky to have each other.”

The waterworks started, and the three of them stared at me with scrunched brows. Every time I tried to choke back the tears, they only came out harder.

“Now look what you did. Your lesbianism made her cry!” Doris huffed.

“No.” Shaking my head, I wiped my eyes. “It’s not that.”

“What’s wrong, Sylvie?” Marge reached over and rubbed my back.

While I struggled to shove the secret I wanted to scream back into my mouth, the whiskey took hold of my tongue. “I hated him. Bruce. I hated him so much, and I was happy when he died.”

The moment the truth tumbled out, I wanted to shove it back in. For almost forty years I carried it in silence, a weight that nearly crushed me to death.

“Now that’s a secret.” Alice let out a long-exhaled sigh. “You hated him? Really?”

Nodding, I sniffled and peered up at them, terrified to see the looks of shame I was certain would bore through me. They blinked at me in stunned silence.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.” I tried to backpedal.

“Yes, you did.” Marge touched my back. “It’s okay to say it.”

“If you hated him so much, why did you stay?” Alice brushed a stray piece of hair from her bulging eyes.

It was too late to take it back, and saying it out loud for the first time in my life lifted the weight I’d shouldered alone and carried for Rachel. “I wanted my daughter to have the family life she deserved. And by the time she left for school, I’d grown complacent. Then we moved here. With no friends and no career to keep me occupied away from him, his volatile personality became even more apparent. I knew I couldn’t stay married to such a miserable person any longer. But when I finally gathered the courage to leave him, he got cancer. Then I was stuck. Who leaves their dying husband?”

“Shitty luck.” Marge sucked the air through her teeth.

The sentence caused me to snort, and I nodded. “It was shitty luck. And it’s been three years since he got diagnosed. Three long years living with the man I couldn’t stand, a man who’s constant complaining and temper only worsened with the illness. Three years watching him deteriorate and praying for the end, then cursing myself for wishing he would die. Three long years.”

Doris finally closed her slack jaw. “I’m so sorry, Sylvie. That must have been awful for you.”

Nodding, I wiped the last tear drying on my cheek. “Yeah. It’s been a long, miserable life with that crotchety man. And now I’m here, sixty-one years old and alone.”