TILL DEATH DO WE PART

                                                  UNTIL DEATH DO WE PART
                                                        By Edward Worthley


    The very essence of this story, in which I am a participant, Instills in me the possibility that I might actually have the last word. I don’t think anyone could have foreseen the circumstances that would bring us to this point, but I assure you I like a good scrap. As I abruptly became seasoned in the ways of war, it was painfully apparent that I had pitted myself against a formidable opponent. To see the whole story we need to go back to the beginning, and that would be our honeymoon.
      “Can we trade cars, Eddie?” My new wife purred. “You are a man and you would be able to cope with the Ford easier than I could.” 
    A picture formed in my mind of my beautiful Mercedes, and her beat up Ford Escort.
      “I don’t think that is the way to handle it, Becky,” I replied. “Maybe we should put yours in the shop to have it fixed.”
    I am not going to drive her rat trap, I thought. I smiled smugly as I picked up my tea and walked outside onto the porch. I was proud of myself for dodging the bullet. I took a large sip of tea, and  heard a metallic ringing noise as I watched the floor  come up and meet me. I don’t know how much time elapsed, but when I was able to focus again, I noticed a large copper bottom pot with a dent, setting about three feet from my head. 
Amazingly, I was still holding my glass of tea and most of the tea was still in the glass. Staggering to my feet, I turned with a smile to confront my lovely bride only to face the next size pot, head on. This time I watched the ceiling retreat. I never tried to get up from the floor In a shaky voice I said, “You are serious about this Becky?”
      I suddenly recalled the last advice my Dad had given me. Son, don’t ever marry a woman who can whip you. Rebecca grabbed my feet and dragged me inside, mumbling something about don’t embarrass me in front of the neighbors, in which I willingly obliged. I spent part of the night trying to nurse the carpet burns on my lower back, while Becky explained her position. I, being a reasonable man and trying to preserve the sanctity and harmony of our marriage handed her the keys. She in turn smiled sweetly and handed me the screwdriver she used to start her car.
    The next morning I awoke to a large lump on the back of my head, and another on my forehead. This gave my skull an elongated look and made it impossible to wear my favorite ball cap. I stumbled into the bathroom and noticed I also had two black eyes giving me the appearance of a demented racoon. Even so I intended to make the best of it.
    After dressing I took my screwdriver and managed to start my new car. While the car was warming up, I took time to run inside and grab a coffee to go. At that moment the phone rang. I continued toward the door when I heard the voice on the answering machine  “This is Sergeant Callahan from the Bradford Police Dept.” We have your car here and a lady who claims to be your wife. She has no identification so we have no way to confirm this.”
    I brushed the message out of my mind as I closed the door and retreated to the car.
I almost felt ashamed for the smile that was creeping across my face. They will have to keep her until they can verify her identity, I thought.
    I drove to Dave’s Garage. Dave was an old friend of mine. We grew up together and he got a kick out of the mess I always managed to get in. Dave was a short man, honest and hard working, but hard work had made him old and cantankerous.  When he saw me, he burst out laughing and said. “I see you have upgraded your Mercedes.”
    I ignored his remarks and said, “Dave, will you please give me a loaner and fix this thing.”
      He could tell I wasn’t in a good mood and took care of me right away. I left the garage in a loaner, something a little more suitable.
    I had resigned myself to straighten the mess out with Rebecca. She was a tornado that flew into my life and put a cease to all reasonable thinking on my part. She had a beauty about her that was captivating, but I sensed a loose screw in her thinking. Out of self- preservation, I thought hold on a minute, I’ve not had breakfast. A man is not at his best till he’s had a good breakfast. After an hour and a half at the local diner I decided to pick myself up and rescue my lovely wife.  I finished paying for my meal turned to leave, only to come face to face with Sergeant Callahan!
      ”I met your wife, Eddie. We verified her and turned her loose quickly before she started on us.”
    His partner had his back to me but it was obvious he was laughing.
    Callahan was a short stocky man who just rubbed me the wrong way. He always dressed like he was still in the Marines. He wore a military hair cut, which seemed common practice for a man in his occupation. I said he was stocky but a more appropriate phrase might have been pudgy.
      ”Where is she now, Sergeant?” I asked.
      “We dropped her off at your house and boy is she fit to be tied,” he said with a grin. “We couldn’t release the car to her it was in your name. It will have to be picked up by you.” He smirked.
      Oh, plenty of cutting remarks came to mind, but I chose to be the better man. Then I realized, how can I be the better man, standing before him with my enlarged skull, and peering from behind racoon eyes?
    Now I had to face my moment of destiny. At least she was at home and I wouldn’t have an audience. Then her words rang in my head. “Don’t embarrass me in front of the neighbors.” It’s possible I could use an audience about now, I said to myself. I turned down my street which is ironically named Lovers Lane. Accessing the situation as I drove up. I noticed several of my closest neighbors sitting in front of my house in lawn chairs, and chatting amongst themselves. They were so well organized that I expected to see an usher among them.
    I walked by my neighbors with I don’t have a care in the world air, I opened the front door revealing no fear outwardly. Rebecca was sitting in a hard back kitchen chair she had carried into the living room. I wondered if she could smell fear, if she can I am doomed. I gave her my best,  you are addressing an adult, look. She had placed her chair in the darkest corner of the living room, but even in the twilight corner of our living room, I could see her clearly, maybe too clearly. She appeared to have grown a foot and a half since I last saw her. Her foot was patting at a fast pace, pat, pat, pat, while her forehead sweat trickled into her eye make up. I tried not to grin but she looked like a racoon too.
      “What are you smiling at?” She growled.
    “ I bought something for you,” I said cheerily. “It’s in the car and I’ll be right back.”
    As soon as I made it to the car, I started it and got out of Dodge, Amongst the jeers and laughing from my neighbors. I thought, a coward gets to live and fight another day.
      “Is that the last association you had with your wife, Mr. Jenkins?” The judge asked at a later time.
      “Yes, your honor, I moved to a hotel afterwards.”
    Even though I went to school with judge Hawkins, he addressed me by my last name in court.
      “I have never heard of such a preposterous story in my life, but because of the complexity of your case I have to believe you.”
      “No one could have made it up.”
      “I have to ask, have you consummated the marriage, Mr. Jenkins? ”
      “No, your honor, a copper pot prevented it.“
      ”I will grant your annulment on grounds it would be of a much greater crime if I didn’t.“ He said. ”I will order you to pay the garage bill on her car since you were the one who put it in the garage.“ I nodded. I had only one request.
      ”I would ask the court recorder to make a copy for me as no one would believe me without proof.” 
    Banging the gavel, he replied, “so ordered.”
                                                 
.