What I’m working on now. I think I got stuck in the 1920s, though.
Comments welcome.
-Hannah
****
It was already late, one Tuesday night, when Able strolled nonchalantly into the room where his wife, Elizabeth, sat up in bed, reading a magazine. He took off his coat and tie and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, draping it over the chaise in the corner. He kissed her head as he walked to the bathroom, where she could hear him turning on the shower. Later, he sang softly to himself. He was shaving, brushing his teeth. She closed her eyes softly and felt her ribs expand in a deep breath.
“You never close your eyes anymore
When I kiss
Your liippps!”
***
Elizabeth was a smart, pretty Northern woman. Having won herself a scholarship, she was educated at Sarah Lawrence in art history and had become a fine addition to the Metropolitan Art Museum’s staff of restoration experts. She had been taught to think for herself. But she had also been raised in a poor family, her father a factory worker and her mother schoolteacher. She was eldest, and while her mother had never quite voiced it aloud, it was an underlying familial hope that she would marry well and take herself out of the family’s responsibility.
And so she had. Able Montgomery was a well-known and respected lawyer. Many of the city’s top entertainment stars were his clients. He lived in a gloriously restored row house on the Upper East Side. He had chosen Elizabeth because she was beautiful and she had intrigued him on sight, introduced three years prior to this late Tuesday evening, by an art collector mutual friend. Able came a modest sized Harry Winston and a bit of a reputation, but when she showed the diamond to her mother, she had insisted that for security and shelter, the little indiscretions of one’s spouse could be overlooked.
Able and Elizabeth Montgomery’s was a beautiful wedding, a society wedding, something Elizabeth would have never imagined for herself, but enjoyed with proper bridal enthusiasm. They honeymooned on a resort in Mexico. For a week, Elizabeth indulged as befits a newlywed in her husbands love. Then they returned to the Upper East Side and life began anew, in much the same way it always had.
Able would work late, often go out for drinks at the club with the boys after a long day. Elizabeth attended to her duties at the museum and came home to her palatial dwelling space, spending the rest of her day in reading, tidying the house, helping Cookie with dinner, which was often kept warm in the oven for Able’s late night consumption. The first notice of the “indiscretions” came straight from Able himself. He rang her department around 11:30 one morning, his deep baritone coming in clearly over the telephone.
“Hello, Elli. Can you meet me in town for lunch? I’ve got something to talk to you about.”
The other girls tittered about her romantic luncheon but Elizabeth was wary. It was unlike Able to request her presence. She took the 11:45 bus downtown and met him a little corner delicatessen for lunch.
