Someone was Knocking at the Door

Someone was knocking at the door. Ellen heard the tapping in her dream but thought it was a woodpecker on the telephone pole outside her bedroom window. Eventually, as she awoke, she realized it was not the woodpecker's monotonous rhythm she was hearing, so she paddled up the long hallway, slowing just long enough to pull her fingers through her wild curls as she passed the mirror on the wall.

Ellen drew a sharp breath at the sight of herself; dark circles under her eyes made her look older than her 45 years. How she loved that old mirror; it was the only souvenir left from her ten-year marriage, which ended when she realized her husband loved his work more than he would ever love her. His passion for her was nothing compared to his desire to be rich and successful. He'd wanted the world to admire him, never mind that his biggest fan had been beside him all along. He'd left her two choices; settle for being a widow to his work or walk away and try to find a happy life without him in it. "Have I made the right choice?," she wondered when she ran her fingers over the smooth, dark frame of what had once been her husband's maternal grandmother's mirror. Certain that she had, she was still saddened by the way the marriage ended. She'd told him they were in trouble and begged him to go to counseling because she couldn't go on that way anymore; he'd laughed and said it was her problem, not his, and that he was just fine. She would ask for a divorce and he responded by laughing at her in his cruel, heartless way. "Leave everything when you go," he'd chide her. And so she did. Except his grandmother's mirror, which his mother, who loved her dearly, had offered in hopes of salving her broken heart. The women understood each other's pain.

None of that mattered anymore; it was just her and the cat now. She chuckled as she realized she could consider Butterscotch a souvenir of the marriage, too, except he seemed more like an old friend who hung around just to keep her focused and moving forward. His cries reminded her that he was hungry, which meant she should eat something, too. Gone were the days when she'd called Scott to ask when to expect him so she could have his dinner ready when he came in, only to be rushed off the line, made to feel like a nuisance. Why he had taken those loving calls as an invasion of his privacy she could never understand. How thrilling it would be to have someone waiting at home for her when the workdays ended. She hated living alone.

Peering around the corner, through the front door curtains, what she saw startled her. There, on her porch, stood her ex-husband's mother, all alone. Between Butterscotch's feet, as he climbed between the curtains and across the back of the loveseat, she caught sight of half a dozen suitcases, a steamer trunk, and a pile of hat boxes stacked to the woman's chin. Rushing to undo the locks, she threw both doors open wide. "Lucille, what are you doing out here? Come right in, it's hot out."

"You love me more than anyone," sniffed Mother Jackson, "and I won't live with that man another day. Help me with my things, won't you, dear?" As they finished emptying the belongings from the porch onto the living room floor, Ellen said, "Let's have a cup of tea and you can tell me what's happened." "Have you got any brandy?" came the reply. After settling Lucille's things into the guest room, the women relaxed in the sunroom. They chatted through the usual pleasantries, then on to the reality of what had brought them together again--forever, apparently--as Mother Jackson had reached her fill of Elton's inconsiderate ways and so had left him for good. Tired of being a golf and tennis widow left to entertain herself with things that held little interest for her, Lucille had come to spend her retirement with someone who adored her and who she was certain would be glad to see her every single day.

Not anxious to reenter the dating scene after so many years, Ellen mused at the prospects her new roommate presented. No more dining alone. Having someone to shop with would be fun. Eventually her heart might heal, but she had no interest in finding a man right now. The concept that initially scared and frightened her suddenly seemed perfectly wonderful. Too kind to complain about not being consulted in advance, Ellen smiled at what her ex would think when he learned his own mother had taken his place.