doorbell rang, and Paige ran to the door to open it. There was Alfred. A bit tired-looking, a little thinner. But he was her Alfred. Standing next to him was a brunette who appeared to be in her thirties.
“Paige!” Alfred exclaimed.
Paige threw her arms around him. Then she turned to Honey and Kat and said proudly, “This is Alfred Turner. Alfred, these are my roommates, Honey Taft and Kat Hunter.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Alfred said. He turned to the woman at his side. “And this is Karen Turner. My wife.”
The three women stood there, frozen.
Paige said slowly, “Your wife?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “Didn’t … didn’t you get my letter?”
“Letter?”
“Yes. I sent it several weeks ago.”
“No …”
“Oh. I … I’m terribly sorry. I explained it all in my … but of course, if you didn’t get the …” His voice trailed off … “I’m really sorry, Paige. You and I have been apart so long, that I … and then I met Karen … and you know how it is …”
“I know how it is,” Paige said numbly. She turned to Karen and forced a smile. “I … I hope you and Alfred will be very happy.”
“Thank you.”
There was an awkward silence.
Karen said, “I think we had better go, darling.”
“Yes. I think you had,” Kat said.
Alfred ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m really sorry, Paige. I … well … goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Alfred.”
The three women stood there, watching the departing newlyweds.
“That bastard!” Kat said. “What a lousy thing to do.”
Paige’s eyes were brimming with tears. “I … he didn’t mean to … I mean … he must have explained everything in his letter.”
Honey put her arms around Paige. “There ought to be a law that all men should be castrated.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Kat said.
“Excuse me,” Paige said. She hurried to her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
She did not come out for the rest of the day.
During the next few months, Paige saw very little of Kat and Honey. They would have a hurried breakfast in the cafeteria and occasionally pass one another in the corridors. They communicated mainly by leaving notes in the apartment.
“Dinner is in the fridge.”
“The microwave is out.”
“Sorry, I didn’t have time to clean up.”
“What about the three of us having dinner out Saturday night?”
The impossible hours continued to be a punishment, testing the limits of endurance for all the residents.
Paige welcomed the pressure. It gave her no time to think about Alfred and the wonderful future they had planned together. And yet, she could not get him out of her mind. What he had done filled her with a deep pain that refused to go away. She tortured herself with the futile game of “what if?”
What if I had stayed with Alfred in Africa?
What if he had come to Chicago with me?
What if he had not met Karen?
What if …?
On a Friday when Paige went into the change room to put on her scrubs, the word “bitch” had been written on them with a black marker pen.
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