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Tilda stirred her butter beans, mixed her dumplings and dumped them in the chicken stock. She reached for the stove dial and cut the burner down to low so her chicken would boil. She sat down at the kitchen table and contemplated the task before her. She smiled as she considered the duality of her life. She ran Dr. Smirkowitz’s dental practice and met his every need during the day, and at night, she was the dutiful, religious wife to Wilbur. She was brilliant. She knew that because the voices told her so. In a little while, she would show Nicholas that she would do anything he ever asked her, and do it happily and without remorse.
Why does this man have so much power over her? She let him push her around for just a little bit of money every year when she knew he made millions in his dental practice not to mention his other “work” she helped him with. In truth, Tilda knew exactly why she did it. She loved Nicholas Smirkowitz and had loved him for more than twenty years.
Of course, he’d rejected her for the beautiful Constance, but Constance was only the first in a line of “other” women. Tilda shook her head and smiled as she removed her apron and hung it on a hook on the back of the kitchen door. She walked into her bedroom and freshened her makeup, except for her lipstick. She’d had her lips tattooed on years ago, not dark, just a pale pink. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t understand why Nicholas would want someone else. She was beautiful, many would say gorgeous, and her hourglass figure hadn’t changed in twenty years. She knew she was a knockout and talked about it all the time. She smiled to herself as she remembered how girls in the office rolled their eyes and smiled. They know I’m the prettiest there. She’d been livid when an old high school friend had compared their figures a few months ago. Her old friend looked awful, every bit her age, and she’d gained more than thirty pounds since high school, had saggy boobs, wrinkles, stringy brown hair, and yellow teeth. She looked nothing like Tilda who’d remained a stunner at forty-three, especially with her perfect Smirkowitz smile. When the friend had commented the two of them “looked their age,” Tilda had told her friend she was wrong and that she looked exactly the same as she’d looked twenty-five years ago. Her friend had smiled benevolently, refilled their wine glasses and told Tilda her eyes were “pasted on” and that she needed a new mirror. If the wine hadn’t been so good, Tilda would have smacked her in the restaurant. Later she had decided her friend was just jealous of her, as were most women. She was smokin’ hot, and she knew it. She just covered it up most of the time because of her religious convictions.
Tilda sauntered over to her husband’s wood shop where Wilbur, tall and thin at fifty-one, knelt as he repaired a tractor motor. He’d been a good husband, but not too good in the sack, which was why she, a beautiful, sensual woman, had needed to go elsewhere to have her needs satisfied.
She touched Wilbur’s shoulder and said softly, “Honey, I’ve got to go to Walmart for a little while and pick up a few things. I shouldn’t be long.”
Wilbur gave her a long look as he wiped grease off his hands. “You’re right dressed up for Walmart. You goin’ anywhere else?” His voice was suspicious.
Tilda gave him a demure smile, ran her index finger up his face and said, “No, of course not, honey, I got your favorite dinner cookin’. Chicken and Dumplins’. I’m fresh out of carrots, and I wanted to have them, too. We’ll eat by the fire and watch the new religious flick on the DVR when I get back,” she promised and winked at him.
Wilbur’s dark eyes remained doubtful. “I got a meetin’ at the church. The Vestry is meetin’ tonight,” he reminded her. “I won’t be home until after nine o’clock. We’re workin’ on the budget.”
Tilda smiled, she hoped not too brightly, “That’s right, sugar, I’d forgotten. I’ll wait up with your plate in the oven. Tomorrow’s my late day, so we’ll watch the movie when you get home, and who knows . . .” she said slyly and gave him a suggestive smile.
Wilbur kissed her cheek, “Take the truck, the roads will be slick as glass. Be careful.”
“Do you need anything?” she asked coyly as she offered him her most sensual and inviting smile.
Wilbur shook his head, and Tilda hopped up in the truck and started the engine. She spotted a speck of blue in the sky as she checked the rearview mirror. This is going to be fun and some trip to Walmart. She chuckled, her heart pumping happily. She turned up the country station and sang along with the music as she headed out of her gravel drive.