Untold Sorrow

Just Say One Word

The next morning at breakfast Matthew apologized for his behavior the night before. He looked haggard and worn, his face drawn, the lines around his eyes deeper, as though he had passed a sleepless night.

'I don't know what got into me,' he said just as he was leaving the table. He smiled down at her bleakly. 'You'll have to admit I usually am able to exercise more control over my emotions.

Jennifer sat and stared down at her plate. as was her habit, she had appeared at the breakfast table fully dressed and was wearing a tailored cotton shirtwaist dress, her short hair neatly combed, a dash of pale lipstick on her mouth. She and Matthew had never arrived at a state of casual undress around each other, even on the mornings after their lovemaking.

If only he hadn't left me those nights, she groaned now to herself, we might have had a chance. Now it was too late. She had slept badly herself, torn between the thought that she had been a fool to give up hope and the conviction that she simply was incapable of going on the way they had been.

'It's all right,' she said in a muffled voice. 'It was partially my fault. I handled the whole thing badly.'

She knew he was watching her, but she still couldn't face him. After a long pause, he went on in a stiff, formal tone.

'I still don't pretend to understand what's behind this sudden decision of yours, but I do recall clearly assuring you from the beginning that you could back out at any time. I want you to know I intend to honor that promise.'

Finally, she looked up at him, and her heart choked in her throat at the weary look on his face. 'What do you want to do?' she asked

He shrugged. 'Nothing. Go on as we were before. ..' His voice trailed off, and he turned to go. 'I'll be late tonight,' he said in a brisker tone as he walked towards the front door. 'Martin said last night that everyone in New York is anxious for a report on the Palestine trip. Don't wait for dinner for me.'

when he was gone, Jennifer sat for a long time at the breakfast table, crumbling her toast and drinking cup after cup of bitter coffee. She knew there was no use going over and over the same ground. She had made her decision, done the only thing she could.

It will be alright, she thought, as she walked slowly into her room to get started on her latest commission. It will have to be.

Summer began to fade into autumn, and by the end of September, the leaves on grounds were turning, spreading a canopy of gold over the city streets and parks. There was an autumn nip in the air now, and the morning fogs began to roll in, damp and chill.

Jennifer and Matthew had managed to resume their old life, but it would never really be the same again, she thought from time to time, but it was a tolerable existence, better certainly than the walking death her life had been after Richard died and before she met Matthew.

After their last talk that morning a month ago, the subject had never been mentioned again. True to his word, Matthew not only stayed out of her bedroom but had given up showing her any of the small signs of affection she had come to enjoy. He never touched her at all, now, unless it was unavoidable, and then only politely, as a gesture of courtesy.

She missed this dreadfully, and it crossed her mind many times that she'd been a fool to throw away the little bit of affection and passion Matthew was able to give her. She found herself often on the verge of telling him she'd changed her mind again and wanted him, wanted his child, on any terms.

Then, without planning it, she would pass by his bedroom again, as if drawn there by an invisible magnet and see the photograph of Beth still there on his bedside table in its place of honor, and she strengthened her resolve to keep Matthew out of her heart.