The Reluctant Trophy Wife

by Judith Petres Balogh

  “You understand the difficulty of my position, don’t you, Helena?” Apparently, he was again reading her thoughts. “There is of course the law, which cannot be violated, but you do need a solution. I am sure you have considered all the options.”

  “I have. The choice is between leaving or staying. Both are unacceptable.”

  “An Ariadne dilemma?”

  “No, Father Paul. The rational and egoistic twenty-first century is no longer the age for tragic heroines. Ariadne and her contemporaries are passé. Of course, we still suffer from the same torment of choosing between happiness and obligation, just as they have, but when all fails, we are not redeemed by going up in flames of some sort. We modern women are left with nothing more than a massive case of confusion and a sense of discreet wretchedness. Instead of the heroic or tragic solution we hope that the problem would be sterilized, disinfected, medicated and ultimately solved in some logical and painless manner. We are unfit for the classical, dramatic resolutions.”

  “I understand. To clarify the situation, first of all you must understand the true reason for wanting out of this marriage. As I see it, there are only two general categories. In the first you are disappointed because it is not what you expected and your personal desires are frustrated. In the second category you realize that this union is a contradiction to what God expects of it. In the first case I can only suggest that you reconsider. Personal disenchantment is not a valid reason for terminating a marriage. We have the tendency to give up our efforts much too soon. If your child does not turn out as you dreamed him to be, you do not throw him away, you do not send him into an orphanage, but will try a different approach, and even seek help from professionals in the struggle of raising him. In a similar way, instead of turning from a partner because he does not deliver what you want, you need to expend more love and patience in the hope that it would heal him. That would change the content, the essence of your marriage, if you know what I mean.”

  “I am not sure I do.”

  “I am talking about a truly Christian marriage, which yours apparently is not at the present. Helena, have you truly considered your role, not as a brilliant partner, not just as an assistant in building an obviously important career, but your role as a wife? Did you try to find his soul for which you are partially responsible? Are you aware that you have work to do in this marriage to make it into what it is supposed to be? Caring for his soul, as well as for yours, means the inclusion of God in your marriage. In that case the wisdom of the heart triumphs and your marriage has a new meaning. It becomes sanctified.”

  “Father Paul, he won’t ever consider such a life. He is openly contemptuous of religion and considers it an outdated superstition, a medieval aberration that somehow managed to trickle down into the New Age. There is no God. Belief in life after death is nothing more than the desperate hope of those, who at an early age were arrested in their mental development, he claims. Life has a beginning and an end, and even if there is something like a soul, it is nothing more than just one of the functions of the body. When that line on the monitor straightens out, the soul, just like all the other functions, stops existing. These are his convictions, Father Paul. This man is well past sixty and it took him many decades to come to this conclusion. He certainly will not change at this late date. Look at me: do I look like someone, who could change the convictions of a rock?”

  “It has been done before,” he answered quietly. “He is not alone in those convictions and you are not the only wife who suffers from them. But you could try to soften that rock and perhaps be surprised at the result.” She almost had to laugh when she tried to picture Clyde as a devout man, praying with her, or talking about any other subject but his career and his goals. There was no place in his life for anything else. If she would try any such approaches he would quickly squelch her. Clyde never liked any disturbing forces in his private life.

  She refilled the tea cups then sat back in her chair watching him. Her mind wandered from the problem she just spread in front of him. For a reason not quite clear to her, she could no longer focus on it. The agitation she felt during the last hour disappeared; she was relaxed, even happy and decisions about the future became meaningless. The moment was remarkable in its emotional content and she could no longer worry about tomorrow. Life could be complete with such a man, she thought and did not know the source of this unexpected notion. She wondered why she never felt this way about Clyde, even though he gave her security and provided all the comforts and luxuries she could ever desire.

  He put down his cup and leaning forward looked straight into her eyes. He did not take the problem lightly and while her mind wandered, he remained focused.

  “If after some radical soul searching you discover that the true reason for your unhappiness is the fact that you broke the law, are contrite and feel deeply compelled to reestablish yourself as a member in the Church of Christ, then there is indeed another solution. If you present your case in this light to him, he might understand and release you. He might even want to return to his family.”

  “No, he would not. He closed the chapter of his first marriage and rather likes the situation the way it is, and would never voluntarily change it. I might also add, he is convinced that this marriage is a good one. We might as well forget that option.”

  “What is it Helena? I feel a sense of unease in you. Are you not sure in your own reason for wanting a change, or are you afraid that he is so hardened in his convictions that he would not consider your point of view?”

  “Probably both statements are true. First, this is not a ‘black-and white’ or a ‘yes or no’ situation. And yes, Clyde is truly hardened; his texture is more like carborundum and his beliefs are petrified. But he is a good and decent man, does not hurt anybody and helps where he can; his integrity is legendary. That should secure him a spot somewhere on the right side on Judgment Day, even though he might not be in the front row with the Notables. But he is not religiously inclined, never will be, cannot understand or accept Church laws, and he does not want any children at his age. He already has three of his own. On the other hand, I do want it more than anything else. That is the point.”

  “I see. ”He again observed the nervous twitching of her fingers. Because he was a caretaker of human souls he understood that she considered all that before and failed to find a solution or even an acceptable compromise of sorts.

  “I want to help you, Helena, more than I can tell you; therefore, I ask you to pray. Tell the Lord your troubles, tell Him that you cannot see the way and need help. Tell Him that you believe in Him unconditionally, but always add to your prayers the most magnificent and powerful sentence ever uttered :‘Thy will be done’. And when you say it, do mean it and have no reservations. You will see that help will come, because prayers, when said right, are always heard. Always. God is always with us and He always knows about our troubles and because He loves us, He cares, and never betrays us”

  “I have very little hope that anything would change.”

  “The task is not easy, but difficult tasks have built-in rewards and God never puts more burden on your shoulders than what you are able to carry.”

  “Good heavens! You sound so frightfully churchy!”

  “What else did you expect? After all, I am a servant of the Church,” he teased, but then added thoughtfully, “I know you are writing a book now, and wish you luck with it. After you finish it, do consider writing for children. You want children so much and you also love stories. Writing for them might at least temporarily fill your life, perhaps even offer some sort of compensation. Touch their soul and their mind with your words, enter their world, and find a measure of happiness and fulfillment in that work.”

  He was outlining a future for her; she was clinging to the present. He built distances; she wanted nearness. He was calm; she was agitated.

  She did not continue to argue.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Both stood. He was ready to go; she wanted him to stay. He t
ook her hand in farewell and held it just long enough to make her world shudder from a recognition she stubbornly denied until then. Its magnitude would not disturb the universe as Sarah predicted, but it changed her emotional landscape for the rest of her life.

  “Father Paul, please Paul, don’t be shocked…”

  “I am not easily shocked, Helena.”

  “Take it as a confession… I…” Looking into those clear, kind eyes she

  could not say it, could not put it into words.

  “I understand,” he said gently. She wanted to respond, but he raised his left

  hand and put a finger to her lips to invoke silence. “Not now, Helena,” he said

  softly. They stood in the silent room as time and heartbeats slipped away.

  Neither of them wanted to break the fragile magic.

  He comprehended what was not expressed in words, and she gratefully

  luxuriated in the grace of mutual understanding and found this new way of

  wordless communicating astonishing, almost unbelievable. For her, because she

  was passionate about the spoken and written word, this deep silence was a new

  gift. Language was her familiar world, because words made the ideas, emotions,

  and thoughts real and tangible. If a concept could not be expressed in words, it

  did not exist for her. Speaking was essential for her. As far as she could tell, he

  too was comfortable with that; after all, words were the important tools of his

  profession. He spoke eloquently to his congregation in church, soothingly to the

  sick and the dying, with encouragement to the penitents in the confessional

  booth and talked in simple terms and with clarity to the children. Now, still

  holding hands, they were silent. At this crossroad the wrong word, the

  misunderstood inflection could break the beautiful and ever so delicate thing. After uncounted moments he spoke soothingly. There was not a trace of

  confusion or embarrassment in him; he was as calm and as sunny as he always

  was. “Helena, what is wrong with that? Why are you frightened by it? Love is not

  only beautiful, it is the major command. If we do not love, we are not quite

  human.”

  “But… is this not a sin?”

  “A sin? How can you imagine love to be a sin? Whatever made you think

  that? Love itself is a special, heavenly gift, one of the best of the gifts the Lord

  gave us. Of importance is only, what we choose to do with something so very

  precious. When we make the right choice, there is nothing wrong with it, and we

  do not destroy the nobility of it. The choice is obvious.”

  “And very painful and it involves sacrifice.”

  “It is true that something must be given up, but it should not be painful.

  Love is a gift freely and unconditionally given and should be gratefully received.

  Pain has no right to be part of it.”

  “I am … Oh, don’t mind me, Paul! I have not reached the divine and

  blissful space you seem to inhabit, and I probably never shall. I don’t think I

  could find consolation just now in what you offer, but I am trying to do the right

  thing.”

  “I know you are.”

  There was complete silence in the room; only a confused moth was circling

  the lampshade, hitting it gently and repeatedly at each round. The magnificently

  important thing was said, and added words would have been superfluous,

  profane and destructive. She felt tears collecting, but would not let them flow.

  Anything but tears. There was a crystal vase on the table with pink and white

  roses and she concentrated on that.

  “I feel something I never experienced before, yet I recognize it as if I had a

  foreknowledge of it. Perhaps I remember it from another, a better life.” “You are very close to the truth. Whatever the moderns or cynics say, love

  is eternal. It was, is, and always will be part of the Universal Presence and

  through this mysticism, we are permitted, even invited to love.”

  She sighed at that. He was talking about abstractions and she was hurting in

  a very earthbound way.

  “I am going home, Paul. ”The words tumbled from her lips before she

  could stop them. She made the decision spontaneously before considering it

  consciously. Once she said it, it became irrevocable. For a moment she recalled

  that Adrienne too planned to say farewell to the man she loved, and planned to

  do it before she caused grave damage. She now fully understood the pain. “Yes, that is your destiny. You have work to do there; therefore, it is a wise

  decision.”

  “Yes. Perhaps it is wise, but is it good?”

  “Some of the truly good things do not always appear as such at the very

  beginning,” he said quietly.

  “No they don’t. I guess this is our farewell. Everything ends here.” She said

  it softly, and thought she would not be able to bear the pain. People, who at the

  time of great grief or sudden tragedy put their hands on the heart as if in great

  cardiac pain, are not being theatrical, and they are not fools when they say their

  heart is broken. The pain is real. Perhaps one day in the future an electrical device would be constructed to measure the strength of emotional pain in the

  same manner a seismograph can measure the magnitude of an earthquake. She was overwhelmed by emotions, but did not waver in her decision to

  return home as soon as she could arrange the trip. This was the only way. She

  already made a major mistake once in her life and was not about to make a

  second. Reluctantly she released his hand, and saw with shock that his eyes too

  glittered, perhaps from tears not spilled.

  “No, nothing ends Helena. Even death is not an ending; rather it is a

  beginning. I don’t know if this helps, but this is all I can offer: whenever we

  choose the right path we experience peace and happiness.”

  “I am blind and insensible to everything right now,” she told him. ”I am

  thirsty. I see the water, but cannot reach it. I will never see you again, never hear

  you talk, never listen to your music…”

  “The pain of parting will soon pass, and a sense of quiet joy will take its

  place. We shall always be friends.” He ignored the remark about thirst. He stepped toward her, hugged her and kissed the top of her head. She put

  her arms around him, and knew that the moment will pass before she could fully

  savor it. Somewhere new stars were born and others collapsed and the roses in

  the crystal vase glowed with late summer joy, but in this quiet room all this was

  of no consequence.

  “God be with you,” she finally whispered barely audibly.

  “He is always with us,” he answered just as quietly.

  The tears she was holding back collected in the corners of her eyes, and

  then rolled down silently, slowly. She did not pretend fortitude any longer and

  did not wipe them away. Contemplating the pink and white roses did not help.

  “Let us not delay the agony of farewell,” she said finally, and her face told the

  rest.

  “Don’t, please, don’t speak of agony. The mysticism of true love does not

  permit agony to triumph. ”He looked at her and quoted, “The Lord watch between

  you and me, when we are absent one from the other.”

  He left after this; the night swallowed the sound of his car. The sudden

  emptiness in the room was unbearable, the silence deeper than all the unsaid

  words in the uni
verse. As soon as she found the precious treasure, she lost it.

  The tears started again.

  She paced the length of the living room in great agitation, but knew very

  well what she had to do; however, the decision to return home came suddenly,

  impulsively and she did not yet have the courage to face it fully. She walked the

  dozen steps toward the window and thought, I must fly home, then turned and

  walked back the dozen steps to the kitchen door and thought, I cannot leave

  Paul. Not just yet. Back and forth she walked and repeated the same two

  sentences.

  The old clock relentlessly ticked away the time. And she prayed, although

  not with formal words, but with a cry of helplessness coming from the depth of her soul. In essence it was not more than an anguished plea: “I am lost and need to see the right way.” Gradually she calmed down enough to see her situation more clearly. Uncompromisingly honest and in spite of the marriage she chose, or perhaps because of it, she unfalteringly upheld her integrity; it was a sacred, personal covenant. Even when she gave in for her husband’s sake and performed activities just because it was expected of her, even then she never conceded her beliefs and standards. She often acted slavishly, but never dishonorably. She made wrong choices, was willing to practice some mild, even beneficial duplicity, and misused her life, but even then she never compromised

  her integrity. It was the one treasure she never destroyed.

  The decision to return home was complex, she knew that. It was not just

  made because of the stated duty to save the imperishable soul of a confirmed

  atheist. Although determined to try, she was convinced that an overhaul of their

  marriage, or changing his attitude, was quite hopeless. Clyde would never agree

  to a child and he would never turn spiritual or religious. He would not let her