The stains refused to come out of the carpet, no matter how hard Rebecca worked with the brush and the homemade cleaning product that she was so proud of. Equal parts water, apple cider vinegar, baking soda and a few drops of orange extract.
She noticed the clock on top of the fireplace and upon realising it was past three in the afternoon, let out an “Oh Christ almighty”, followed by an apology and a cross sign over her chest. This was all taking much longer than she would have liked and at this rate, she was in danger of missing the evening mass.
Her concoction had always worked on other stains, even red wine, why would blood be any different…Perhaps if she added more baking soda? Rebecca dropped the brush and carefully took off the yellow rubber gloves. She placed them next to the dark red circle decorating one side of the cream-coloured rug that had lived in this living room for nearly twenty years.
It would be a pity to have to get rid of it, Rebecca thought to herself. Resolutely, she leaned on the wooden coffee table with her right elbow to help herself get up. This was not an easy task for a body that had more mass than was recommended by doctors after fifty-six years of fried food and coffee creamers.
Her effort was assisted by a soft grunt as she heaved herself upright, letting out a sigh of relief at having accomplished at least one task. She would have to get more baking soda from the pantry and give this another try. But it was Sunday, for crying out loud!
She removed the apron protecting the green summer dress that she was wearing and made her way into the kitchen placing the garment on the back of a chair. She opened the door of her pantry and started rummaging through the tins and cans and the occasional half-opened box of cookies and cereal.
She had really made an effort today, even adding a belt to her dress conjuring up a memory of a waistline. She had gotten up at 7am, which, as her husband would confirm with a nod of his head, was not the time Rebecca would ever voluntarily get up on a Sunday. Sunday was the day for rest as it had been for God. And so, after six days of diligently cleaning the house, cooking meals and ironing shirts, Rebecca would always rest on the seventh.
She pursued resting with the same kind of perfection and meticulousness as any other task she undertook. She would usually not come out of bed before noon. If she did happen to prepare coffee at home (the one from the diner did actually taste better), she would leave the cup right where she had taken the last sip.
Sometimes it happened to be the kitchen sink, but more often it was the bathroom, front porch, or even the toilet. There would be no cooking and her husband was left to fend for himself. Today though, she had made an exception. For God. She was not going to disappoint him by letting her husband divorce her.
Rebecca found the magic ingredient behind an unopened box of cereal, next to the tinned tomatoes. She really needed to organise the pantry again. She felt the need to pray, as she usually would, but currently, God and her were not on speaking terms.
Every decision Rebecca had ever made in her life, had been discussed with and approved by the Lord. Even as a 20-year-old woman, with a more visible waistline, sitting in her future husband’s car at the drive-through movie theatre. As soon as he had exited the car, Rebecca had put her hands together, closed her eyes and started praying.
“Dear God, this is Rebecca Russell…” Even though she had been talking to God since she could in fact talk, she never skipped the formal introduction. This would usually be followed up with an apology for having inconvenienced such a busy individual.
That night she was asking God whether it was alright to let her future husband do what normally only husbands would be allowed to do. At the end of their last date, she had allowed him to kiss her on the lips. She had made sure to negotiate it beforehand. With God, not with her date.
It had been the seventh time they had met – six times during the day and then finally an evening date. But on that particular night, he had taken her by surprise. As soon as the car had come to a halt at the parking lot, he kissed her again. This time it was no ordinary kiss on the lips, but an invitation for more.
Rebecca was not displeased, quite the opposite actually, but this was new territory and she had not yet cleared it with her biggest adviser. So, she had stopped and asked her date to get her a drink.
It was an excuse to have some time alone, she didn’t actually want the drink. She never drank during films, due to a really small bladder. Same reason why she would make sure not to drink just before driving to the next town to visit family. Not many places on the way to relieve yourself. And in the movies, you would always end up having to go to the toilet and missing a part of the movie.
No, that just would not do. If you were to undertake something in this life, you made sure to follow through. So, if she was to watch a movie, it would be the whole movie. Just like when you marry someone, you don’t just quit midway. You do not simply pack your bags and announce one morning that you are going to leave to go live with a woman named Christy.
Rebecca had hoped that Christy was just like a full bladder that needed to be emptied, but her husband thought differently. He kept going on about love and feeling alive again, but Rebecca couldn’t remember the actual words anymore. She had stopped him in the middle of his pathetic teenage dream soliloquy. She had not been given time to make a better decision, he had been standing in the living room ready to leave.
So for the first time in her life, Rebecca had made a decision without consulting God first. She had not really cleared it with Him beforehand, but she assumed that widow was more acceptable than divorcee.
