YOU JUST HAVE TO WAIT
Ethel Whitaker knew everything. Of course she knew she wasnt twenty any more, not even thirty.
Ethel was tired of being the perpetual single, dragging that heavy cart of loneliness around.
Liam, why is it always me? Whats wrong with me? Am I a bore? Do I stink? Am I just too clingy? Or perhaps Im simply not doling out enough love and affection. Whats the matter with me?
Everyone around her the tall, the short, the stout, the skinny, the drinkers, the beauties and the notsobeautiful all seemed to have some sort of romantic life. Everyone except her.
Whats wrong with me? Why am I alone?
Listen, Ethel dont laugh, but my gran used to mutter about a crown of spinsterhood, said Molly Hart, plopping down from the kitchen chair.
Come off it, Ethel waved a hand dismissively, are we living in the Middle Ages now?
Dont believe me? Molly jumped up, my thirdcousin once tried to take that crown off, and the old woman was quick to snatch it away.
What old woman? Ethel asked, not really curious, just to keep the conversation going.
Anyway, Ill ring Betty now shes my sister, the one who helped that old crone with the crown. Ill get the whole story from her.
Ten minutes later Molly was scribbling something on a napkin, a tongueincheek grin on her face.
Right, Betty, love. Hows it going? Getting married again? Whats up with Greg? Ah, hes been kicked out, never mind Ill be there, of course. She hung up, paused.
Whats happened?
Nothing well, actually yes. Its that weddinggift thing again my sisters getting married for the fifth time. Apparently that old crone really does love removing the crown. Heres the address. Fancy a trip?
Ethel shrugged. She did end up going, but the old crone, after a few twists and turns, sent her back emptyhanded.
No crown for you.
Youre kidding. I?
Whats wrong? Picked the wrong men? First one abandoned his child, promised a girl, then turned out he was already married.
You didnt know? Thought something was off with me? Its just that hes a scoundrel, vanished into the bushes life sorted itself out.
How?
You dont need to know, he wasnt your man.
The second one wasnt yours either? Ethel smirked.
Not yours, the crone confirmed, the third either.
The third? I have no one.
The third will be
And mine? When will he appear? Will he ever appear?
Hell turn up when you stop waiting hell be yours, but not entirely. Youre a woman, you cant change that, but trust him. Hes reliable, youll find your own happiness with him maybe even claim him wholly. Just be patient, dont rush.
Now off you go. And tell your friend she should see a doctor, give her some herbs, maybe a gynaecologist tell her the old crone sent the message.
That conversation had taken place many years before.
Desperate to find her own happily ever after, Ethel once drove out to the crone a selfstyled wise woman in the countryside. Everything the crone said turned out to be exactly how it unfolded.
She met the third man, but the crones words slipped from her mind. He was good, treated her daughter well, yet something always seemed to happen theyd become pensive, disappear for good, never explain.
Then Ethel met Harry. At first she didnt even realise it was the same Harry from the neighbourhood. The flat next door had been empty for years. When Ethel moved in with her daughter, a neighbour, Aunt Kate, mentioned the landlord was a bit of a nightwatchman, only appearing now and then.
One afternoon Ethel, driven by curiosity, peeked through the ajar door next door. A man was wallpapering the walls. She slipped away, thinking the landlord must have returned. He did indeed come back and kept coming back.
The first time they bumped into each other was in the hallway a week later. The doors in the building were absurdly designed open one and the other wont open until you shut the first. Ethel rushed off to work, tried to open her door, and it stuck. The neighbour apologised, closed his flat, and Ethel heard light footsteps hurrying away.
A second time, she blocked his exit.
They later met in the communal garden; the neighbour let Ethel go first through the gate.
One day Harry helped Christina lift a bicycle; Ethel baked pastries and handed them to him.
They later ran into each other at the park. Harry had a son about Christinas age; the kids became fast friends, whizzing about on the swings while Ethel and Harry chatted merrily.
Six months on, he asked her out, introduced her to his family, and they moved in together. Before that, Harry gave her his life story.
Ethel Im not some twentyyearold lad, not a brute. Im a grown man with opinions and a character, he said. I promise, if you live with me, I wont cheat, Ill do the manly chores, Ill earn a living, you know I dont drink or smoke. No nasty habits. Ill respect you, value you Im sorry, I cant love you the way Id like to, Ive tried.
Im no stonecold block, Ethel, I do have feelings for you, just not the ones youd hoped for, he went on. Do you need someone like me? My wife used to call me a rascal, thats why Im spelling it all out so you dont think Im just some tragic hero.
It happened that in my youth I fell for a girl, he confessed. She felt like a friend, I tried to push her from my heart for years, failed. Ive had women prettier and smarter, but none fit.
Should I have talked to her? Ethel asked, halflaughing.
Hed say, You think Im a suffering deer? He explained why we should be together, declared love louder than life. He didnt whine, just asked me to listen. Shed just split from her husband, so I.
She told him shed always treated him as a brother. He argued love wasnt about being loved back, just about loving. She listened, stayed quiet.
Then she asked why hed split with Ivy. He admitted he didnt love her.
And? she shrugged. Shes beautiful, smart, cheerful. You dont love her? Fine.
He realised then that the woman he truly cherished was someone else, a phantom he couldnt live with, yet he forced himself to stay with.
I married later, he said. I wasnt a zombie, I lived, had fun, just when I thought of the woman I love, love feels like a punishment. I feel battered, unable to give a woman happiness. Women love with their ears, dont be angry I cant lie.
Its not that Im babbling, Ethel. I just want you to decide if you can live without fireworks, without dramatic emotion. My wife couldnt.
Dont answer now, think about it.
Ethel thought, then a week later she met his big, boisterous family. They welcomed her and her daughter warmly. Shed feared being seen as a replacement, or pitied, but everything went swimmingly.
She never regretted marrying Harry. He was dependable; he solved all her problems. She tried not to dwell on passion, and life was good. Occasionally, maybe a couple of times a year, she caught a wandering look from Harry perhaps a memory of a past love? It never disrupted their marriage.
Then, once more, that glance appeared.
Was it a betrayal? Honestly, placing a hand over her heart, any woman dreams of a man who could change for her. Ethel too married not for a grand romance, but grew to love him he was the perfect husband.
That hazy look, though, bothered her.
Ethel? Harry called, spotting her washing windows on a sunny spring day, the sun beating down, the house still shaking off winter. He stepped into the room, admiring his wife. He felt free, liberated, as if hed finally met his longlost love and was just thrilled to be home.
Whats up, love? Something happen?
Nothing, just everythings wonderful, you have no idea how wonderful it is. He kissed her gently, as if hed just discovered how deeply he loved her.
Ethel thought, The old crone wasnt wrong she did tell me to just wait.
Good morning, dear ones! May your love, if you havent found it yet, flutter into your windows. And if its already there, cherish it. Sending you warm hugs, rays of kindness, and a pinch of cheeky optimism.
