The Prize - a short story by Florence Liberfarb...

“She should choke!” her friend Ethel was saying, as they sat conversing by the pool. They were talking about Dolly Hampton.

“And to think this whole thing got started with a flat tire,” Ethel continued. “It shows you, Irene what being a good Samaritan can lead to. Did you have to tell him to stop and help? Why did you do it? Couldn’t you figure that maybe the woman had AAA?”

“I don’t know. Don’t ask me. It happened and there’s not much I can do about it,” Irene answered, twisting her handkerchief like it was her husband’s neck. With arthritis, however, there was not much chance of that happening.

“Anyway, it may all blow over.”

“Don’t hold you breath,” Ethel told her. “It’s not that Dolly is so wonderful, you know. It’s just that she’s so willing.”

“I never said no to my husband,” Irene confessed.

“So maybe you should start now. Tell him, “no! None of that!”

“Ethel, sometimes I think we’re just imagining all this and nothing is really happening.”

But something was going on. The husband, Ernie, was indeed seeing this Dolly. He would tell Irene that he was going to have lunch at the clubhouse, actually go there to be seen, gulp down a quick bagel and coffee and then hurry to meet Dolly at the Hung Toe.

It was easy to see that Ernie considered Dolly something really special. Best of all, she was a good ten years younger than Irene. Although Ernie had no clear idea where all this was taking him he was in no hurry for it to end. It was a long time since he had felt this good.

Occasionally, to assuage Dolly when she started to hint about a more permanent relationship, Ernie would get on the subject of Irene’s health. He saw this always made Dolly perk up. He would tell her how worried he was about Irene’s heart, her arthritis, her problem with balance. Dolly’s eyes would sparkle. How long can the woman live, she thought.

So she died. Dolly, that is. How it happened was, whenever, Ernie and Dolly had lunch together Dolly always asked for a doggie bad, because how much can you eat when you’re in love? While she was having a doggie bag supper alone one evening, unfortunately, there was a bone in the baked fish.

After things settled down, Ernie told Irene they ought to go away for a while. Travel. Take a cruise. Irene was more than willing.

“I’m giving my wardrobe a whole new look,” she told Ethel. “He gave me a check for two thousand dollars and told me to get myself all dolled up. We had promised ourselves that we’d travel someday when we had the time, after the children wee all settled, so this is it. Funny how life can sometimes turn out so lovely.”

And it did. They hit the cruise lines and the tour trips from Barbados to Alaska. All the travel agents knew them by first names. They went to a colorful place in Mexico for two weeks. And in Portugal they had a charming little house with daily maid service.

For his part, Ernie began to see Irene in a new light. She had shed a few pounds and was now a more bouncy companion. Even her arthritis had improved. And listening to her laugh and giggle made him unexpectedly happy.

Back home Ethel was discussing those two and their new life style while she and Ina Shapiro sat by the pool.

“Don’t tell Irene I said this, but in my opinion she should have got rid of him years ago. Don’t you think a person should have some pride, some self-respect? If it was me I certainly would have done that. I would never put up with such a man for all the cruises and trips and what not.” Ethel said, reaching for her sweater as a cool wind began to sweep in over the pool.

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 Prize by Florence Liberfarb

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Poems, Stories, and Plays by

Florence Liberfarb