Love Letters From the Grave

It was the manager’s primary job to keep the inventory of all tools and supplies; to dispose of all damaged tools; to be constantly on the lookout for better, more efficient tools, and to do the purchasing of supplies and tools. Part of Charlie's responsibilities on Mondays, in addition to managing and scheduling of the tool/supply rooms staff, was to assist the manager and learn his job, in case he was needed to take over the manager’s job, because of sickness or anything else which might result in the manager’s temporary absence. With regular sightings of Amos, despite his being squirreled away at the top of the stairs in the payroll office, Charlie’s working life had become a true reflection of everything he’d learned in prison, and the innate qualities he had always developed within himself.

Things were humming along, as Charlie and Muriel settled into becoming old hands at married life and in raising a family. Charlie doted on his children, spending as many precious hours with them after work as he could. At weekends he spent considerable amounts of time taking them on outdoor excursions, usually to a playground or park, with Muriel and sometimes her mother tagging along too as they pushed the children along in strollers or pulled them behind in wagons. Charlie loved being outdoors, feeling especially free and liberated after spending over half of his life in prison confinement. This special love for the outdoors undoubtedly contributed strongly to his love for fishing. During these exceptionally harmonious times with his family and in his work at the factory, Charlie managed to get in one or two fishing excursions each month, and continued to have success in catching supplies.

Charlie had never been happier. He very much enjoyed his work at the factory; he loved and very much appreciated his little family; their savings account was growing, giving promise that they would soon be able to purchase their own home, and his marriage was still enjoyably passionate.

Then, a few months after their third wedding anniversary, Muriel announced that she thought that she was pregnant again. He was raised as a Catholic, and had come from a large family, so it was natural for him to want to have a large family himself.

Muriel, however, did not seem to share his happiness.

‘Maybe this should be my last pregnancy,’ she said suddenly one evening. ‘We’ll have four children before the end of our fourth year of marriage. That’s twice the number of the family I come from.’

‘But … you said there was time for plenty more.’

Muriel scowled. ‘Maybe I hadn’t thought about what that would actually mean. More breast-feeding, more painful pregnancies, more difficult births.’

‘I hadn’t really given it much thought,’ said Charlie, ‘but when you put it like that, I can see what you mean.’

‘And I keep losing my figure, Charlie. Do you know what that’s like when I’m only in my early twenties? I don’t want to keep losing my figure!’

Charlie slid his arms across her rounded belly. ‘Your figure looks wonderful, when you’re pregnant and when you’re not.’

To his surprise, she pushed his hands away and flounced toward the door. ‘Oh, you don’t get it. How can you possibly get it?’

And Charlie had to admit that he probably couldn’t.

He couldn’t help thinking, though, that there was something more to it than just the fact of having more babies and a thickening waistline. Occasionally, Muriel seemed distracted, glancing out of the window as cars passed, and urging her mother to take her out to bingo more often. Charlie even wondered if she would prefer to go back to work rather than stay at home with the babies, although she’d never said as much.

There was definitely something a little off with her, though.

And Charlie knew it, because there was something a little off with him, too.

Somehow, implausibly and confusingly when he still adored his wife and their life together, Charlie had fallen head-over-heels in love with someone else.

And this time, the feeling of love was like nothing he had ever known before.





Chapter 8




* * *



Molly Moving On



* * *





“They told me to take a streetcar named Desire

and then transfer to one called Cemeteries and ride six blocks

and get off at - Elysian Fields!”



A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams



Every morning, after breakfast and seeing her father and Tommy off to work, Molly’s mind would work overtime about her situation. She hoped upon hope that Tommy's love-making would eventually become just that - love making.

She greatly feared, however, that it would not, and that the best she could do was to grin and bear it. If so, she was determined to do her wifely duty - to simply lie in bed and sexually "service" her husband. If this was to be the situation, she could only hope that their sexual episodes would decrease, considerably, in frequency.

Oh, how she wished she could talk to her mother about it. She didn’t even want to bother Maureen with her woes. Her marriage with Tommy was nothing like her sister’s relationship with Angus, so how could she possibly understand?

And so her dreary, unhappy life went on, made bearable by the presence of her father, caring for the animals they raised for eggs and meat, tending the family garden, and visiting with Carol (who never married and became a firm friend) several times a week.

Paul Gersper's books