Chapter 2

Monday morning Susan woke late, at least for her, feeling like she had the flu. Her nose was stuffed, her eyes were red, her body hurt, and she felt groggy. She had not slept well, at all. She had lain in her bed, crying for hours before falling asleep. After an hour of sleep she'd wake and see the empty side of the bed. She'd burst into tears, crying herself to sleep again. It was a cycle that repeated, throughout the night.

She glanced at the empty place on Irving's side of the bed, and broke out in tears once again. She couldn't believe that he hadn't returned the previous night. She wondered if he would ever return home again. She wished she knew what she had done wrong to anger him so much.

The previous night had been a nightmare. In all of the years she had known him, he had never talked to her like that. Maybe it wasn't the best casserole she had ever made, but to tell her to stuff it up her ass? She had cried after he left. After collecting her thoughts, she waited for him to return and apologize to her.

When eleven o'clock had come around, she thought that maybe he had gone to a bar to have a drink, and calm down. She had tried calling him to tell him to take a cab home. He had ignored her calls. By midnight, she was worried that he had gotten into an accident. She had visions of him lying in a ditch, injured and bleeding.

She was still at a loss as to why he had acted the way he had. Losing his temper like that was so unlike him. Even in the worst situation, he was an island of calm. He had no reason to be angry with her, she was sure she had done nothing to make him mad.

She put on her robe and went down to the kitchen. Acting on autopilot, she made a pot of coffee. While it was brewing, she dialed his cell phone again. It rang three times, and then went to his voice mail. It was obvious he was intentionally not answering it. He lived with his cell phone at hand at all times. It seldom rang more than once before he was answering it. If he wasn't answering, it was because he didn't want to talk to her.

She poured a cup of coffee and went into the living room. The battered Kindle was on the coffee table, where she had put it the previous night. It was only while reaching for it that she remembered that it no longer worked. She was thinking that she'd have to go to the store and buy a replacement.

It was while staring at the Kindle, that she noticed something disturbing. The coffee table had a coat of dust on it! Shocked, she looked around at the rest of the room. Everything had a coat of dust on it. The carpet was dull, and looked like it hadn't been vacuumed in months. Getting up, she walked around the house. There was a stack of dirty laundry in the bedroom. The sheets on their bed looked dirty.

She looked in his closet. He had clean shirts hanging crookedly on hangers; but they were wrinkled, as if someone hadn't taken them out of the dryer in time to hang them up, before the wrinkles set in. She realized that he must have washed and dried them, sometime in the past.

The only room that looked halfway clean, was the kitchen, although the floor could have used cleaning. Every night, Irving cleared the table and washed the dishes, feeling like it was his contribution to the housework. He was one of those rare husbands who understood that taking care of two kids and keeping up a house, was a full time job. When the kids were babies, he got into the habit of cleaning up after dinner, so that she would have a little time to relax. It was a gesture she had initially appreciated, then took for granted, and finally had come to ignore.

Although the entire house was a mess, it was in the bathroom where she nearly had a breakdown. The shower walls had patches of black and orange, from mold and mildew. Except for a round spot in the middle; the mirror over the sink had such a thick film on it, that it was hard to see herself in it. There were little stains all over the sink and counter area.

Horrified by what she was seeing, she said, "My God!"

She didn't even want to look at the toilet. She opened the lid and looked inside expecting to find a ring in the toilet bowl. Much to her surprise, it was relatively clean. It took a moment for it to dawn on her that every time Irving took a piss he was looking into the toilet. He must have gotten disgusted by its appearance at some point in time, and cleaned it.

Walking like a drunk, she staggered into the living room. She had hardly settled into her chair, when the doorbell rang. She went to it with a sick feeling in her stomach. She halfway expected to find some man there, ready to hand her divorce papers. Opening the door, she found herself facing three women holding house cleaning supplies.

In a thick Hispanic accent that was difficult to understand, one of the women said, "We're here from the Morning Maid Services."

If Irving's disappearance from the house the previous evening had been a blow to the stomach, this was a kidney punch! She knew how Irving operated. When he had a problem, he called the appropriate people to come in and take care of it. He didn't even have to think about it, he just did it. It was a mode of operation that had made him a successful man.

Stunned that he would call a service to clean her house, she backed away from the door to let them in. The three women entered the house, and looked around. The expression of disdain on the women's faces let her know exactly what they thought of her housekeeping abilities.

Embarrassed, she mumbled, "Take care of the living room, dining room, kitchen, and bathrooms."

The woman who had greeted her turned to the other two women, and rattled off instructions in Spanish. It took only a few seconds before all of them were busy cleaning the house. Watching them, Susan knew that even on her best day, she would never have attacked the work with that much energy. She figured that it would take her days to get done what the three women would do in the next few hours.

Susan, near tears, went into the bedroom to get dressed. She wasn't comfortable with the idea of walking around wearing her nightgown and a light robe with a bunch of strangers in the house. She grabbed the first clothes that she found. She didn't notice, but they were the clothes she had been wearing the day before.

Once she was dressed, she headed towards the laundry, carrying a load of shirts. Rather than endure the humiliation of watching the women clean her house, she would wash the dirty clothes. While the first load of clothes was washing, she went into the bedroom, and started straightening it up.

The sound of the vacuum cleaner echoing in the halls, sounded like derisive laughter to her ears. She hoped that her children didn't stop by and see what was happening. She'd be mortified. She had always prided herself on being a good housekeeper.

She had just stripped the sheets off the bed when the doorbell rang again. She went to the door and found two men standing there.

"We're from Hometown Blind and Curtain Cleaners."

"Oh," Susan said.

She stepped back and let them in the house.

"Our work order says that we're to clean the curtains from the living room, dining room, kitchen, and three bedrooms."

"That's right," Susan said, barely able to get the words out of her mouth.

She watched them remove the curtains from the large living room window, and put them into bags. She wanted to crawl into a gutter when one of the maids smirked at her, after pulling a dirty plate out from under the couch. Susan had no idea how it had gotten there or how long it had been there.

Rather than face the maids, she returned to the bedroom. There was enough to be done in there to keep her busy for the whole day. She had barely gotten her hands on the sheets, when the doorbell rang again.

She stormed through the house and to the door. She opened it to find a small man standing there holding a milk crate filled with tools. He smiled at her.

In a thick Eastern European accent that she had never figured out where it came from, he said, "Hello, Mrs. Susan. I'm Ernest. Mr. Irving sent me over to patch the wall."

"Come in, Ernest," Susan said. Ernest had been doing odd jobs around the house for more years than she could count.

"Thank you, Mrs. Susan."

"You can just call me 'Susan.'"

"Yes, Mrs. Susan," Ernest said with a smile.

She took him into the living room and pointed out where the Kindle had hit the wall. Ernest smiled at her and then went to work. She headed back to the bedroom knowing that Ernest was one of Irving's trusted contacts who fixed things that broke. He would show up with his milk crate filled with tools and fix things.

She had just gotten the sheets off the bed, when there was a knock on the frame of the bedroom door. Irritated at another interruption, she looked over at the man standing there.

He shifted uneasily before he said, "I need to get the curtains."

"Take them," Susan said.

The man went over to the window, and started taking down the curtains.

"It's going to be a long day," Susan said with a sigh.

"You're really cleaning up the place," the man said thinking she was talking about all of the activity taking place in the house.

"Yes," Susan said in a flat voice.

"Are you expecting company?" the man asked.

"No."

"I guess you're selling the house, then," the man said.

"No," Susan replied sharply, taken aback by the suggestion.

"I didn't mean to suggest anything. We don't do much residential work. When we do, it's usually just before visits from in-laws, weddings, or when someone is selling a house."

"It's just my husband making a point," Susan said with a sigh.

She glanced at the clock by the bed and saw that it was only 10:30. She wondered who would be showing up next. She had a feeling that by the end of the day she was going to know exactly why Irving was so angry at her. She was terrified that her education had only just begun.

"This was the last of the curtains. We'll be back this afternoon with them cleaned."

"Thank you," Susan said.

Susan managed to get the sheets into the washing machine before the doorbell rang again. She came out and answered the door.

"Hello. I'm Kevin from 'At Home Meals.'"

"'At Home Meals?'" Susan asked, numbly.

"We're a catering service. We prepare meals in advance for busy people. We come to your house, and cook the meals. Then we put them into your freezer, so that they can be reheated," Kevin said.

"That's convenient," Susan said trying hard not to scream at the man.

"Mr. Morgan hired me to prepare two weeks worth of meals."

"Come in, Kevin," Susan said staring at the floor feeling defeated.

"I need to bring in the food, and my pots and pans."

"Take your time," Susan said.

She had gotten Irving's message loud and clear. Not only was she a bad housekeeper, but she was worthless in the kitchen. She tried to think of what she had cooked over the past few months, but couldn't remember. No wonder Irving had gotten angry when she refused to cook the broiled chicken. He had just been looking forward to a decent meal, for a change.

The curtain men left with bags full of curtains, promising to return later that afternoon. Ernest had patched the wall and then disappeared out the front door without saying a word. The maids finished cleaning the house a little after two, and departed.

The cook remained in the kitchen until nearly three, performing the magic of turning fresh food into hot meals. She had eaten a sandwich for lunch; while watching him prepare some very good looking, and very healthy, dishes. It was almost a shame to see his creations go into the freezer. The aroma was incredible. There had been a time when the aroma of her cooking had filled the air.

In the middle of the afternoon she was convinced that she had received all of her surprise visitors, when much to her horror a window washer had shown up on the doorstep, and had then taken care of the windows. He had done the inside and outside. She had stood there watching him work. He made quick work of each window. He did the whole house in less time than she would have taken to do three windows.

Shortly after the window washer had left, the men from the curtain cleaners returned. Under her guidance, they rehung the curtains. She had to admit that they looked a whole lot nicer, now. She had almost forgotten what colors they were. It took them an hour to get all of the window treatments back in place.

The hours of the day had passed slowly, despite how busy it had been. Despite all of the interruptions, she had managed to clean the bedroom and take care of the laundry. The broken Kindle and the chicken breasts that Irving had put out on the counter the previous night, had ended up in the trashcan. The Kindle by her, and the chicken by the chef. He had taken one sniff of it, and had made a face of disgust. He had then attacked the whole counter with a bleach and water solution.

She looked at the clock. She didn't expect her husband to be home for another hour; that is, if he was even going to come home, that evening.

She walked around the house inspecting the work that had been performed. She had to admit that it looked a whole lot different than it had, that morning. The wood was polished, the floors were clean, the bathrooms shined, and even the windows had been washed. Although the pantry remained empty, the freezer was filled with food. There was a salad with grilled shrimp in the refrigerator for that evening. It had only taken seven people the whole day to accomplish it.

The doorbell rang. Dreading what she would find upon answering it, she made her way to the door. Irving had enough time to visit a lawyer and file for a divorce. She hoped that she wasn't about to be served with divorce papers.

A very young and very attractive woman was standing there. Susan stared at the woman, thinking she looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place where she had met the woman.

The woman looked surprised to see Janet.

After taking a moment to regain her composure, the woman asked, "Is Irv Morgan here?"

"Irv?" Susan asked.

No one called Irving: Irv.

"Yes. That's the name he gave me," the woman answered.

"I don't expect him home for another half hour," Susan said.