Chapter 4: Consoling a Love-Struck Young Wife

Colette Warth clearly had not expected to find me at her door. She had meant to run downstairs after that man, but when she saw me she froze. I had not imagined that a woman so stunning could look so undone. The sight of her, heartbroken and disheveled, pricked something in my chest. I did not know how to speak, so we just stared at each other for a moment, and an awkward silence fell in the hall. "Why are you still up this late?" Colette wiped at her tears and broke the silence. "I'm in a bad mood-felt like a drink," I said. "What happened?" Realizing we were in the same boat, she relaxed a bit. "I fought with my girlfriend." To make Colette feel a little less alone, I exaggerated the problems between me and Ashley Shaw. We had not really fought; Ashley had only needled my already bruised ego. "Want someone to drink with?" There was a hazy, inviting look in Colette's eyes. My heart sank, then suddenly soared. "What do you drink, spirits or beer? I'll go buy some." "I have some at home. I just don't know if it's convenient to drink at your place." "Sure-no problem." I nodded like a bobblehead. My roommates were a young couple who taught at a private school. It was summer break, and they had gone back to their hometown for a belated wedding banquet, leaving the apartment to me. We could drink-or even go at it all night-and no one would know. "How's this wine?" We curled up on the couch in the living room and clinked glasses. We sat close enough to catch the wine on each other's breath. A few glasses of red wine in, I started to feel a little buzzed. Colette lifted her glass and looked at me. Her big eyes were misted with tears, and the longer I looked the more my own thoughts fogged. "Good. Really good." I knew nothing about red wine, but this one was indeed lovely; even a small sip left a pleasant, lingering finish. "Of course it's good. This bottle cost over a hundred dollars." Colette stared at the red liquid in her glass, with a wounded, faraway look. I guessed she had more to say, so I swallowed the sting of the price and waited. "The company my husband works for distributes whiskey." Her gaze grew more plaintive. By "husband" she meant the man she had just thrown out of the apartment. "When I first met him, he had just arrived in Yanos. No job, no money, not a friend. But he could handle hardship, and he was driven. We fell in love at first sight. I liked him, loved him, even looked up to him." Tears welled and slipped free from the corners of her eyes. I figured the highest praise a woman can give a man is to truly admire him. Loving someone was easy; admiration was hard. Take Ashley, for example. She loved me, but she looked down on me, looked down on my family, looked down on my poverty. It's rare to admire a poor man. Colette's words sparked a sudden urge in me to kiss her. "My family and friends all opposed us. They said love without money never lasts. I was determined to prove them wrong. I believed the man I chose could not be a mistake, that he would give me the happiness I wanted. My idea of happiness was simple, really. A man who loves me. A warm little home. Home-cooked meals. Even if we were renting, as long as he loved me, that was enough." Tears welled up and spilled over. She could not go on. She took big gulps and then started coughing. I lifted my hand and patted her back. Her scent drifted up and hit me, and my body, traitorous, stirred in response. "But he promised to give me the best, happiest life. He worked hard, worked to make money, worked at everything. He started out as a lowly salesman and climbed step by step to where he is today. He kept his promise. We have a house, a car. He even made it up to me with a lavish wedding." Colette drifted in her memories, needing someone to confide in so badly that she didn't notice how my mind-and my body-were heading somewhere they shouldn't. "Only, he started coming home later and later. He spent more and more nights away. He kept telling me he had to work, he had to earn, he had to make my life the happiest. He never understood that what I wanted wasn't that. The nicest house, without him, is just a cell. He turned our home into a prison, and me into a prisoner of love. He thought I didn't know he had another woman on the side..." Colette wept bitterly and tossed back the last mouthful in her glass. She reached for the bottle to pour again. "Don't drink any more-you're going to make yourself sick." I tried to take the bottle from her. Her words had moved me to the core. In that moment I realized I was starting to fall for her, not for her face, not for her body, but for a heart that didn't look down on the poor or worship money. "Don't tell me what to do-let me drink." She pulled hard, refusing to listen. As we struggled, we tumbled onto the couch together. I landed on top of her. She stared up at me, eyes wide with alarm. "Damn it, woman-didn't I tell you to stop drinking?" I barked, then lowered my head and crushed my mouth against hers.