My sister Ruth decided, finally, to visit us.
“To what do we owe this great honor?” Victor asked.
He’s my husband and a nicer person you’ll never meet. Everyone comes to him for favors and he never says, no. Sometimes I get a little annoyed when it interferes with my plans, but I wouldn’t change him for the world.
That’s why when he said, quote, “To what do we owe this, etc.,” he wasn’t being sarcastic. He knows how long I’ve been begging Ruth to come and spend some time with us in Florida ever since her husband died.
“I’ll have the slipcovers cleaned. Maybe the carpets shampooed,” I told him.
Going from room to room with new eyes, I inspected everything. A nice plant would look good over there, I thought. Also, a bright new table cloth for the dining room table.
“What’s all the fuss about? It’s only your sister,” he says.
“And outside of our children, also my dearest relative. I want her to have a great time for the two weeks she’ll be here. Take her places, introduce her to…”
Suddenly I stopped in mid-air. An idea had just flashed before me.
“Victor, do you think we…you could arrange some kind of a date for her? Let her meet a nice man? What do you think?”
“You want me to be a matchmaker for your sister?”
“Why not? For everyone else you always do favors. You never say no. Yes?”
He couldn’t deny it, but he wasn’t enthused about it. So I let him have it. On and on I went, like a do sometimes, telling him why and even how he could do it.
“At the card games, do you mean to sit there and tell me that every last one of them is married or on heat medicine? No eligible man in the entire room?”
“It’s very possible,” he answered. Victor is a man of few words.
“Try. That’s all I’m asking. Just try.”
To shut me up, he finally agreed.
The time before Ruth’s arrival was a flurry of activity. Because my cleaning woman had a cancellation she fit me in for an extra day. Also, I baked, roasted and froze constantly.
“For a slim little woman like your sister Ruth, that’s an awful lot of food you’re stuffing into the freezer,” he said, as if I had asked him.
About three days before she got here, Victor came home with a sly grin on his face. I looked at him, waiting.
“I found someone,” he tells me.
I was so happy, I hugged him.
“Oh, sweetheart, you never let me down. Who is he? What does he look like? Is he nice?”
“Yes, he’s a nice guy,” was all he would say.
“Good-looking?” I begged.
“I can’t tell”
“He can’t tell,” I said to the wall. “What’s his name?”
“Eddie. And don’t bother me with questions. I did what you wanted.”
He did, indeed. It was like the frosting on the cake. I relaxed as I looked around at my sparkling clean house with all the new touches here and there, and felt sweetly peaceful, knowing that now I could welcome my sister just the way I wanted to.
And when she got here, I can’t tell you how happy we were to be together. She loved the way our place looked. We talked and talked. Then when Victor dozed off on his chair right there in the living room, we went into the guest room, and just like our youthful days, continued to talk and laugh and even cry a little, until I remembered that we weren’t those two young girls anymore, and we needed our sleep.
The next day we started on our rounds, but on our return the phone rang for Ruth. It was Eddie. He wanted to meet here. Naturally, she invited him over and we met him. Very nice. Very appealing and such good manners. I could tell Ruth liked him immediately. So off they went, and believe it or not, they say each other every day and evening after that.
“He’s a wonderful dancer,” Ruth said. She would tell me where they went, what he said. Victor just listened, that’s all.
The two weeks passed quickly and it was time for Ruth to leave.
“Don’t be such a stranger,” I said as we hugged good-bye.
She thanked me for a wonderful time. And the way her eyes sparkled I knew Victor and I had done everything we could to make it a good visit.
That night as we were getting ready for bed, I was going on and on about how this meeting with Eddie maybe could lead to something, when he interrupted.
“Gertrude, I have to tell you. Don’t start making any big plans; okay?”
“Who’s making plans? I can dream, can’t I?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?” I asked, something unpleasant changing my mood.
“Because he’s married.”
“You’re kidding,” I said, but knew he wasn’t
After the shock of this news, the fury began. But Victor was already in bed, pulling the covers over his head. I was so upset I put my nightie on inside out. I was determined to get to the bottom of this before lights out.
“Answer me! Where was his wife?”
“Up North, visiting family,” he said. He looked like he had been preparing himself for this moment of truth.
“He did it for me as a favor.”
“How could you do this to my sister…to lie?”
“She knew.”
“She knew?” I said, incredulous.
“Yes, she knew.”
“When? Who told her?”
“He did. Right away. The first night.”
I jumped into bed.
“So everyone knew but me! And Ruth never said a word.”
“She didn’t want to disappoint you. And believe me, she was not disappointed. They liked each other. Is there any harm in that? He was lonely. She wanted and escort. In a way, it reminded me of that old English movie. What was the name? Oh yeah…Brief Encounter. Remember that that one? About a couple that meets, but end up like two ships that pass in the night, only in that case it was trains. I really enjoyed that movie. Do you remember it?”
For Victor that was a long speech.
“I didn’t know you were so romantic,” I said, settling down in bed. “What else don’t I know about you?”
“Come closer,” he said, “and I’ll tell you.”
Florence Liberfarb writes poetry, short stories and plays. You may freely republish this story for non-commercial use provided you follow the Publisher Guidelines and provide a hyperlink (electronic media) to the Wordly Web Site. You may not alter the copyright notice or edit the content of this story. Please notify the author of your intent to republish. Commercial use of this story requires written permission and payment of a royalty.
The Favor by Florence Liberfarb
Copyright © 2005-2007 All Rights reserved
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Poems, Stories, and Plays byFlorence Liberfarb
