Andrea Bromley                                                                     Historical Fiction Essay

Mr. Meyers                                                                                        Victorian Women

BOME                                                                                                           

The Sun Still Shines

Chapter 1

The bright sun shone through the slits of the window, endowing light to every corner of the room. Before opening her eyes, she could see the red tint of her lids and knew the morning had bestowed itself on the world yet again. She sat up, holding her body from falling back down to bed with her palms firmly planted behind her. She wiped her right eye with her right hand, rotating the wrist back and forth until her body gained strength, and allowed her to plant her feet on the ground. She walked over to the windows, grasped the golden handles of the shutters, and pushed them outwards, allowing all the suns strength unfold onto her. She closed her eyes, and took in deep breaths, for the sun always made her feel warm and alive. She turned her back to the sun and leaned against the window, and looked about the room. A shaded outline of her bust was projected onto her bed which lay only feet in front of her, but the rest of the room was covered in sunshine. She did the same thing every morning, staring at her shadow for minutes. She would hear the children walking to their bathrooms, getting ready for school, but she would stay in her place, undisturbed by their footsteps. It was her favorite part of the day, propped up against the wall, with the sun beating down on her back, while she thought about the sun and its amazing abilities. It fascinated her, the way the warmth could travel from so far away. She would think about the days when she young and unmarried—the days when she would spend hours in the backyard, laying on her stomach while staring the grass, and at the insects hidden within their seemingly never-ending forest. She would go to the creek near her house and lay on top of a large, flat rock, with her feet dangling in the water and her face looking up at the trees that spotted the suns path to her body. She loved it there; she loved looking at the squirrels that chased each other from tree to tree, she loved watching the water, and feeling its force against her feet, and she loved watching the fish being pushed downstream. She watched them as they floated away, knowing they would never be back. She would sit on her rock and wonder about the lives of these animals, and whether they could do things like speak to each other, and think about things as people do.

She missed her trips to her creek. She missed observing the habits of the animals, and having time to dream about romance, and mystical things.

“Beth… are you awake yet?” called her husband, Harold, from the bottom of the two story steps.

“Yes…” she mumbled softly, when she realized he couldn’t possibly hear her. “YES”, she shouted this time.

“Okay good, the children are awake… the nanny is helping them to get ready! Also, dear, you’ll never believe what happened to our Queen Victoria!”

She took her robe from the back of her door, and tied it across her waist. She stepped out into the hallway of the second floor, and grabbed a hold of the handle which would lead her up the steps to the third floor. She reached the top, and heard the cries of “mommy! Mommy!” coming from the room occupied by both her son and daughter. Her son, Henry, was 9 years old, and her daughter, Elizabeth, was 7. Henry was a beautiful, a blond haired blue eyed boy, who had an abundance of vigor and spunk. Elizabeth was also blond, with larger, wider eyes that were more green than they were blue, and her cheeks were the color of a baby rose’s youthful pink. She was sweeter than a puppy’s gentle kisses, but also uncontrollably curious, like her mom. Beth walked through the door and saw her kids jumping around, throwing toys at each other, laughing uncontrollably. The Nanny was running around, looking utterly irritated as she picked up the children’s toys.

“Stop that! What are you doing… both of you stop that right now!” she yelled. “The two of you, sit down on the bed while I get your clothes.”

She took their clothing out of their respective drawers, and gave them to the nanny, who dressed them quietly.

She walked downstairs to eat breakfast, the kids following behind her in the hands of the nanny. Her husband sat at the table, reading a book. He gestured for her to give him a kiss.

“Good morning, darling” Harold said. “Since the cook is at home, terribly ill today, how about you make us some of your delicious eggs, and maybe some bacon as well. What do you think kids?” he asked.

“Yum” replied Henry.

“What about you, Elizabeth? What would you like, my dear?”

“Well,” she said in a quaint voice, “I was hoping for some oats and honey, but not if it’s too much trouble.”

“Of course not. So eggs, bacon, and oats with honey it is. Thanks love.”

Beth turned and faced the cabinet. She took out the ingredients, and cooked a meal for her children and husband.

“So dear, Queen Victoria has fled the castle after the death of her loving husband, King Albert. Can you believe how terrible such a thing is? I hope our dear Victoria comes back to us soon, poor woman,” stated Harold, looking seriously disturbed.

“Yes, it is a tragedy. But she will be back soon enough.”

            They all sat down to eat. Harold continued to read his paper, while Beth talked to the children of school and matters with their friends.

“Okay, love, thank you so much for the wonderful breakfast. I’ll bring the children to school on my way to work. I love you dear, see you tonight.”

“I love you too,” she said as she stared straight into his deep brown eyes. He gave her a kiss, after which she looked down at her feet. She looked back up at the kids and said, “Bye my darlings, I will be seeing you when you get home from school.” She gave them both a kiss on the forehead. She looked back at her husband that was still looking at her, watching her with adoring eyes. He gripped her hand and gently rubbed it, and then left with the kids.

After clearing the table and doing the dishes, Beth went upstairs to get dressed.

She hummed a soft tune as she dressed herself in a long white dress. She liked to look pretty when she went out so she always put her hair back in bun, clipped with her grandmothers golden clasp. She then went go into her garden in the back of her house, and picked up two soft purple colored flowers and placed them within the back of her bun.

Instead of leaving the house right away, she decided to take a seat on the cool ground in her yard. She sat and looked around her, at all the houses occupied with the only people she knew. All the houses looked the same, as did all the people within it. She thought about herself and whether she was exactly alike all the other women on her lane. Her life certainly seemed the same: she had a husband who worked (in a bank) everyday to raise money for the family, two children, a white house with three floors, and a garden in the back, as did everyone else she knew. Sure, from the outside her like was perfectly in tune with the rest of her friends, but she didn’t feel the same. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t belong there. Sometimes, she just wanted to run away and live in the woods, survive off of food she acquired for herself, and not have to worry about her manners, and how good a job she did representing her family. Sometimes she wanted to take out the ladder, a bucket of Wild Red paint, climb to the top of the house and just start painting everywhere. She didn’t want to feel the same as everyone else because she felt she was her own person. And Harold, no, he would never approve. She loved him deeply, but he would never want to make a show, or stand out. He was perfectly content being just another house on the block.

She began to get a headache, so she slowly pried herself from the ground, and left.

 

Chapter 2

            On Beth’s trip to the market, she took a detour to Oxford University. She walked by the great lawn that provided shade and comfort to the students, and a home for the school. She noticed, but didn’t feel surprised by the majority of male students on the lawn. More surprising was to see the women that attended the school. She didn’t understand how their husbands let them go—she was afraid to even bring up the subject with Harold.

            The vibrancy of the market was always a delight for her eyes. The sun yellows, Wild Poppy reds and the aged grass dark greens all stood out against the dull white dresses of the people of which it was infested. She stopped by every vegetable and fruit, felt it, smelled it, and took those which were the most intoxicating. “Darling, you always pick out the greatest produce in the market. You couldn’t do a better job,” her husband always said.

            Today, there was someone at the market she had never seen before. She stood out. She was wearing a blue dress, that wasn’t very elegant, but had beautiful flowers embroidered on it. Beth walked over to the woman.

            “I like your dress,” noted Beth. She then whispered, “It complements the colors of the market better than the whites you see everyone else here wearing.” She gave a chuckle, and then realized she was a little embarrassed to have said that out loud.

            The woman laughed, and looked at Beth inquisitively. Beth started to walk away, but the women told her to wait, and asked, “What’s your name?”

            “My name is Beth. What’s yours?”

            “It’s Rebecca.”

            “Well it’s nice to meet you, Rebecca. Sorry if what I said was out of place.”

            “Oh no, of course not! You are completely right. Why do you think I wear this? It can get boring…wearing the same color, feeling the same every day…” Rebecca then looked down at Beth’s clothes, and gave a forgiving chuckle.

            “Oh please, you do not even have to excuse yourself. I feel so very much the same, so boring, every time I walk out of my door. Even within the doors of my home I feel that way!”

            They both laughed. Beth looked down at her basket and noticed there were books lying within it.

            “Oh, do you like to read?” Beth asked.

            “I do like to read, yes, but as it happens, these books are for school.”

            “You don’t mean at the University, do you?”

            Rebecca laughed, “Yes, why?”

            Beth was excited. She had always wanted to talk to someone that went to Oxford University.

            “Wow, I can't believe it. Please tell me, how did you get your husband to let you go?”

            “Well, it wasn’t really his choice. I told him I was going, and that was that. There was nothing he could do because going to school was what I had my heart set on.”

            “Amazing! You are truly lucky. I couldn’t even broach the topic with my husband, I’d be too scared. He’s so content with the way our life is, and I don’t want to ruin that for him. Anyway, I probably wouldn’t do well at a University.” Beth shook her head and looked down at her feet.

            “First of all, if your husband doesn’t let you follow your passions, than you may have to take a look at whether he loves you and understands you…”

            Beth was a little taken aback by her comment.

            “…and secondly, why would you say something like that? Of course you would do well. Anyone who wants to learn deserves a spot in Oxford.”

            “Yes, well, I just feel as if I…wouldn’t exactly fit in.”

            “Nonsense. Do you feel that it’s exhilarating to learn?”

            “Yes.”

            “Do you find yourself asking why and how things in this world work?”

            “Yes.”

            “Do you feel inadequate when your husband gets to work, and utilize his mind everyday, while you sit around cooking and cleaning, or worse, watching a Cook cook, and watching the nanny take care of your kids?!”

            Beth looked down. She didn’t want to dishonor her husband. But she did feel these things. In a quieter voice she answered, “Yes.”

            “Well Beth, it sounds to me like you are ready to talk to your husband about something very important to you.”

            “Yes…it does.” Beth began to think about how she would approach the topic…and whether or not he would love her anymore after she ruined his perfect world.

            “As Angelina Grimke has said on the topic of women’s issues becoming weaved in public discussions, ‘We are willing to bear the brunt of the storm, if we can only be the means of making a break in that wall of public opinion which lies right in the way of women's rights, true dignity, honor and usefulness.’[1] Would you not love to learn about the women of the world, and be a part of giving them freedom? Learning is the first step in that process, which is why I encourage other women to attend schools like Oxford!” Rebecca was very excited about the topic, and Beth loved that. “Beth, I would like to take you somewhere tomorrow. I think it would be en extremely enlightening experience for you. Do you have time to meet?”

            “Of course. I’ll have to do some cleaning beforehand, but afterwards I will have time. Do you want to meet me at my house? I live on Wilshire Lane, the third white house in, with the pink flowers lining the front.”

            “Okay, perfect,” responded Rebecca.

            They each paid for their food and waved goodbye as they walked their separate ways.

 

Chapter 3

            The next morning remained constant with her everyday routine. She awoke to the morning’s fantastical yellow gleam, and the faint, melodious sounds the morning offered. She spent time by the window to think about her husband, her new friend Rebecca, her kids, her dreams, and everything. They were all taking a part in the civil war being played out within her bursting mind, of the decisions she would have to make if she did, in fact, try to attend college.

            Today, Beth told the nanny she would walk her kids to school. They walked along a dirt road, lined with only pink tulips. They each stood long, with thick green stems, and pink clouds hovering above, and each one ended at the same length down the whole dirt road.

            “Mommy, can I please pick one of these flowers?” inquired Elizabeth, with a smile that meant true desire.

            “I’m sorry dear, you can not,” responded Beth.

            Elizabeth gave a small pout and ran to catch up with her brother. Beth watched her kids walk together. She wondered if they felt the same way she did when she was younger. If they saw the world as a dream, as a playground in which you could do anything, and be anything, and it all seemed so true.

            After dropping her kids off at their school, Beth went home to do some laundry. When she arrived home, she was surprised to see Rebecca waiting on her front steps, reading a book.

            “Hi there, Rebecca! I did not realize you would be arriving so early. I’m sorry I haven’t been here to greet you properly, did you have to wait long?” Beth asked.

            “Oh, not at all. Do not worry about a thing. I have a lot of reading to do, not that it matters since my ignorant teacher doesn’t give any fair recognition to the females in his class. But, what can you expect.”

            Beth opened the door and as she gathered her things to be washed she responded, “I can not imagine how your teacher can get away with an atrocity such as that.”

            “Well, it is quite simple actually. The entire administration, and faculty, are men. They can get away with whatever they want because, although it is generous to allow women into schools in the first place, they do not find it necessary to represent us as equals, and give us grades equal to men. Therefore, we work hard, and make sure that even though are teachers do not want to give us fair grades, at least they know what we are capable of, and that we are just as smart as the men.”

            “Well now, that makes complete sense. I think that is very smart.” Beth responded, with a new admiration of her gender, and their persistence to be seen equally in all divisions.

            They walked to the backyard. Rebecca sat down next to Beth, and they both leaned over the small pool frothed water and soap that sat in a bucket, waiting to be contaminated with the dirt that clings to the clothing. They talked about their husbands in more depth, Beth with a husband that was so loving of her that she was scared to destroy his angelic picture of her, and Rebecca with a husband that respected the truthful image of her, and let her run the life that would make her happiest. They pressed their bodies against the bucket, and shifted their arms up and down endlessly against the cleaning slate. They laughed hard as Beth made jokes about her life, and the homogeneity of her “kind”. They got so lost in their conversation that they both had forgotten about the pain in their arms, and just scrubbed until the suds were flowing over the bucket, and the laundry was clean. They worked together to hang the clothes over the line that was held in place by two trees. After they finished, they gave a sigh of relief. Beth looked up at the sun, closed her eyes and took in a deep breath as a breeze passed them by and gave a breath of cool air to the hot day.

            “Okay, I think we are about ready to go,” stated Rebecca.

            “And where exactly are we going?” Beth asked of Rebecca, curious of the plan she had made for them for the day. She was excited.

            “We’re going to McAlester Street.”

            Beth’s heart continued to pound, but now not from excitement, but from nervousness.

            “And what exactly is there to see there that is of any of our interest?” Beth inquired, very curious of why she would ever want to wander into the filthy, whore infested McAlester Street.

            “I think it would be an interesting experience to see the other kinds of women that you are not so familiar with.”

           

Chapter 4:

            Beth was stunned by Rebecca’s proposition. But after all, Rebecca was smart and knowledgeable, and she was indeed trying to inform her about women outside of Beth’s own sphere. Beth truly did not want to go, but she had a certain trust in her new friend, and did not want her finding Beth pathetic and without courage.

            They strolled through the streets of London. First through the proper, sophisticated streets, studded with black, tightly buttoned suits and long, glamorous dresses with large feathered hats that swam easily and calmly up and down the streets, confident that no sharks or unwanted visitors would dare to lay a fin in their prestigious schools sealed off for “homogenous members only”. Behind them, stores put on display their finest items and waited for a floater to dip in. Then they walked through the streets that were filled with schools of the sharks and swordfish, of which the other, beautiful, elite fish were not to associate with.

            They had entered the designated street of McAlester, the street where women gave themselves to men for money. They were dressed nicely, letting them appear decent and proper, but they were not. Beth could not help but give a slight moan of disgust while she walked down the alleys, watching these women work so pitifully for money. Beth could sense that Rebecca knew what she was feeling, as she kept giving off a quiet chuckle to herself, as if to say ‘how naïve of her to judge’. But Beth didn’t get it, how could Rebecca stand being down here?

            Rebecca slowed down in front of a small pub, stuffed with working men and women that had been browned with soot, and bandaged with clothing swabs to protect their persistent wounds. The door was seeping moisture, thick and hot, fresh off the glistening bodies that so energetically paced, laughed, and danced throughout the room.            “Alas, we are here!” Rebecca noted confidently. She looked down the path to her right and saw a women dressed in a gray and black, conservative looking dress. “Well hello there, Mary! I haven’t seen you in some time, how have you been?”

            “Well Hi, Rebecca! It is so wonderful to see you, how are your studies?” Mary anxiously replied.

            Feet behind her strode a man dressed in black, pulling his fingers through his hair in an attempt to utilize the grease to make it neat as it had started in the mornings light. As he walked past, he looked back and shouted “Farewell, Mary. I’ll see you sometime next week my love.”

            “I can’t wait, John!” she directed towards the man, with a smile and a shout. “Sorry about that Rebecca, so how are those studies coming along?”

            “Oh, they’re quite fascinating, as it were! Thanks for asking.” Rebecca looked back at Beth. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m terribly rude. This is my friend Beth. Beth, this is Mary.”

            “Nice to meet you,” they replied, in nearly a simultaneous count.

            Beth gave a forced smile and looked down. She felt out of place.

            “We will catch up another time,” Rebecca said, giving Mary a wide smile and a friendly rub on the arm. “Beth, let’s go in here for a bit.”

            They walked inside, and Beth was overwhelmed by the intoxication of the damp staleness that occupied the room. The ground was vibrating with energy of some, who chose to spend their leisure time dancing with friends on the worn down, browned wooden floors. Others were seen tucked away in quite, darker corners of the room, accompanied by liquor, cigarettes, and their own tired souls. Beth and Rebecca found a table somewhere towards the wall. They ordered two drinks.

            “Ummm, Rebecca… what exactly are your intentions for today? I’m not exactly sure this is the place for me to be…” Beth stated cautiously, not wanting to sound too arrogant.

            Just as Beth stated her apprehension, a man stumbled over to them and slammed his glass jug down on the table. Beth gave a slight jump and put her hand to her chest in a shocked manner.

            “Rebecca, dear Rebecca, haven’t seen you in these parts for a year’s time. Where have you been? No more trips down the alley for you, eh? Too good for that, now?” The man slurred his words, and laughed forcefully with every question.

            Beth gave a quick glance to Rebecca. She was in awe at the man’s comment. Did she hear him correctly? Could Rebecca be a ‘fallen woman’?

            Rebecca gave a hearty laugh to this. She expected people to comment on her return. She put her hand on the man’s arm, and said cheerfully, “It is nice to see you George! How is work going at that glass factory? Are you still working there?”

            “Yes ma’am. And I’m more tired than ever. The wife’s pregnant with another one—almost due—so I’ve been doing a lot to make up for that.” He said in an exhausted, worried expression.

            “Well I wish you the best with your new child. Good luck with your job, I’ll see you around George. It was nice to see you.”

            George stumbled off into the crowd, adding his bustling voice to the already loud noise booming throughout the room.

            Beth turned to Rebecca, “I do not understand. You are a respectable woman, and you have a loving husband, why would you do…”

            Rebecca interrupted her, “How can you judge, when you do not even understand the concept of prostitution in general? Prostitution means opportunity—opportunity for women to live any kind of decent life when they are not supported by inherent money.”

            “But to sell your body…to give yourself to a man with whom pleasure is not conceivable as he molests you in a back alley, pays you and goes off to his day, not giving another thought to your name. It is violating, and degrading…”

            “I understand that you, or anyone that has no concerns of money, not to deliver offense, may have difficulty seeing the importance of the process, but what it comes down to is a power of women over men- and to be blatant and honest, an easy form of income in a world which doesn’t allow the female gender to prosper. And as well, it is not as if most of these women do not have primary jobs…many of the working women have the most success sustaining their dual jobs—factory labor and prostitution. It makes it easier for us type who would have nothing otherwise. Now that I am married, I do not come to the alleys anymore, simply because I have a husband to support me as I go to college- but otherwise I would still be down here, lending myself my own helping hand in digesting some much needed pay.”

            “And what about their other jobs?” Beth inquired.

            “Do you see the women in here whose souls have been worn through…you can see it in their eyes, and many times through physical injuries, that the work they endure is grueling, and they obviously are not being compensated for such efforts. They endure laborious hours and conditions, and do net get paid any sort of overtime. They are cut and broken, and receive neither sympathy from their bosses, nor time to heal their wounds. They are worked and worked, with nothing to show for it but scars and ill health.

            Beth sat in her place, unmoved, and completely intrigued. She looked around her—it was easier to imagine said conditions when you were looking straight at the women who felt its wrath. She couldn’t look away from one woman in a table, surrounded by others who seemed to ignore her as she dozed off into a deep slumber--her body slumped over, head hanging down, chin resting on her chest. She looked deceased, and Beth felt guilty that she had never felt tired like that in her life. She had never been worked to the point where her body was left with no energy to do as little as hold her head up with a propped arm.

            Rebecca could see that Beth was beginning to understand it, for the creases of her eyes dipped low, and she looked about as if she could feel the agony of the laborers seeping into her porcelain skin.

            “I did not bring you here to feel bad about who you are, but to understand the other women in this world that are not fortunate in their inheritance or spouses, and need to support themselves. Prostitution is not a lovely thing, no, but neither is the factory labor that they endure. It is not about choices, but about survival, and an attempt to live with a meal on your table ever day, and even live with a bit of confidence and style.”

            Beth had a cold rush to her heart, she did feel bad about who she was, not because she had money, but because she neglected to understand who these women were around her, and what they dealt with. The woman who they had met outside of the pub she had found disgusting, judging her without any knowledge of who she was, and what she was dealing with. Even the woman in front of her, Rebecca, someone who she knew was intelligent from their conversations, someone who she knew was kind and generous, Beth had judged her when she learned of her prostitution. That’s not fair of me, she thought. It was not fair that she judged others for working, when she did not want others judging her about who she was when she was dressed nicely as she was, and lived in a house like she did. There was more to her, and she wanted others to see that, so how could she be so hypocritical in seeing others for an aspect in their lives as small as her house was in hers.

            “I’m sorry,” she pleaded, “I did not intend to be so judgmental. I do not want others seeing me for the trivialities of my life, and it is unfair to place those judgments on others.”

            Rebecca did not even need her to say it; she could see that from the slopping of her shoulders, and the sulking of her eyes, that she no longer felt superior in these surroundings.

            Beth had just become aware of the music strumming loudly in the background, as Rebecca stood up and offered her hand to Beth. Beth looked at the center of the room and noticed the men and women playing gaily about the room, letting their feet patter strongly and wildly against the wood. Rebecca saw the doubt in her eyes, so she took her hand, embraced the soot of the table, and rubbed it gently across Beth’s face.

            Beth laughed, stood up, and gave in to the rhythm.

Chapter 5

                        As they walked home, they noticed the sun beginning to bleed the purple-reds of the early night. Beth knew she should be home at this point in the day, for the children would be getting home, and the cook would be preparing dinner, and she was not there to help as she usually was. She thought about her husband for the first time that day. He would be worried.

            “It is really getting late, I have to rush home…” Beth stopped her sentence, for she did not know how her husband would react to a visitor whom he did not know eating dinner at the house. But she figured that he was not the only one who could decide who would eat at their house. “…would you like to join us for dinner?”

            “Well that would be nice! I truly do not want to intrude though…if it is too much trouble I can surely go home to eat, so don’t worry about being rude,” Rebecca replied.

            “Oh no, please come! And your husband is welcome of course.”

            “That’s very kind; he’s actually in Whales for business.”

            “So it will just be you then. But we must hurry home, my husband will be upset.”

            They walked briskly home to the third home in on Wilshire lane.

            “Mommy, mommy!” cried Henry and Elizabeth as they ran to her side.

            “Hello my dears, how was school today?”

            “ Fine!” replied Henry.

            “Me too!” replied Elizabeth.

          “Good, I’m glad to hear of it,” Beth said. “Henry and Elizabeth, this is my friend Rebecca.”

            “Nice to meet you,” they politely, yet insincerely stated in uniform as they smiled and then ran into the kitchen. Beth and Rebecca followed the children into the kitchen to see Harold was sitting down at the table, flipping through the pages of the weekly periodical

            Beth walked over to him, leaned over, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

            “Hello Sweetheart, how was your day?” she asked.

            “Fine, thanks. Where have you been? And who is our visitor?” Harold inquired suspiciously.

            “This is Rebecca, she’s a student at Oxford University. Rebecca this is my husband, Harold,” they shook hands, “And we went out today, sorry I was late. Okay so is dinner ready? How about we eat!”

            They all sat around the table. Harold sat at the head, Beth to his right, Rebecca to his left, Henry next to her, and Elizabeth next to Beth. The cook presented them with a roasted chicken, potatoes, and steamed broccoli.

            “So, what did you ladies do today?” Harold asked, directing the question towards his wife.

            Before Beth could answer, Rebecca promptly stated, “We went to McAlester Street”.

            Beth’s mouth dropped open slightly, as she was in shock of the words that so easily slid right of off Rebecca’s tongue.

            “I’m sorry, what is this? I do not understand, what were you doing down there?” Harold asked, very confused, while staring at his wife, who was staring at Rebecca in disbelief.

            “Uhhmm, uuhh…Oh! We just went to visit some of Rebecca’s friends,” Beth replied cautiously.

            “Why do you have to go there to visit her friends? And why does she…I mean why do you have friends that reside or spend their leisure time on a street like that?” Harold was very curious of this woman and her business with his wife.

            “Oh, umm…” While Beth was thinking of an excuse, Rebecca smiled at Harold and said,

            “Oh well that’s simple, I used to be a prostitute myself for money a few years back. I brought Beth there to see…”

            “To see WHAT?” Harold shouted. He then looked at the children, who were sitting quietly, and attentively, for they had never seen their father yell at a stranger like he was.

            “Children, go upstairs. Cook, bring them upstairs with their food and make sure they eat all of their vegetables.” Harry said demandingly.

            “Don’t talk to Cook that way!” She looked at Cook, “I’m sorry, he meant to say ‘please’”.

            Harold shot a look at his wife, “Tell me, please, WHAT on earth is there to see on McAlester Street? Are you planning to become a whore like your new friend here?”

            “How dare you? I would never do that to you. And do not call Rebecca a whore, because she is not.”

            “Well she certainly sounds like one to me,” Harold looked over to Rebecca. “Who are you anyway? And what business do you have with my wife?”

            “Harold, do not talk to…”

            Beth interrupted her, “it’s fine, really. I met your wife the other day in the market. We began to speak and she was interested in the fact that I go to Oxford University. I enjoyed that she was interested in women’s education, and I thought…”

            “NO, you didn’t think did you?”

            “I beg your pardon, sir, but your wife is a smart woman, and she deserves to know things about the power of her gender, and that she does have a choice…”

            “A choice for what?!” Harold shouted. “Beth, what does she mean, a ‘choice’?!”

            “You know, you don’t have to be so condescending…”

            “Look, I am talking to my wife. I would prefer it if you LEFT our house.”

            “Harold, don’t talk to Rebecca like that! She is our guest, and my friend!” Beth shouted at Harold.

            “No, really, it’s fine. I’m going to leave. Beth, good luck. I think you are very smart, and I think you would do very well at Oxford, if you wanted to go.”

            With that, Rebecca walked out the door. Beth looked down at her plate, with her hands in her lap.

            Harold looked at her. “Who are you? I’m sorry, but going to Oxford is not an option.”

            Beth waited for a second, and almost gave into his demand, but then she looked at him, and thought ‘I’m just as smart as him, why can I not be educated too? Too many times have I walked away without a fight…’

            “No, Harold, it is not your decision this time. Every time I walk away, without questioning your decisions, but this time I can not let you determine my life. I love to learn, and I love the thought of understanding our world better. We don’t have to be like everyone else that we know with their plain lives. I do not want to be the person that I see walking down our lane, oblivious and ignorant of the other worlds surrounding her.”

            “Oh so now you don’t like your life, is that what you are telling me? Fine, you can leave! I won’t support you, and you can live on your own with the children, and go to school.”

            Beth could not take him, if he wasn’t willing to listen to her, why even bother. She stood up from her chair, and ran outside of the front door. She lifted her dress and trotted down the path for a few minutes, when she slowed down and began to walk.

            She looked across the path and saw the woods that were untouched by the glisten of the moon. She ran in. It looked familiar, and she remembered the day that she and Harold had gone for a walk through the forest soon after they were married. They laughed and talked, thinking not of the future but of the moment. She saw the rock that they had sat on for hours, when they had laid back together, watching the birds pass by and the trees flow gently with the wind. Now, too, the leaves of the trees embraced each other, creating a soft, soothing harmony. She laid back and stared at the night sky above her—the trees swaying their branches together in a slow, sensual tango, the stars peeking out, looking ever so bright against their cold, dark backdrop.

            She could hear the sound of twigs breaking beside her, and then the touch of a person laying their body beside her. She knew it was Harold. She looked over, and stared into his eyes. He looked sweet, and for the first time in a while she thought he looked beautiful. He kissed her gently on the lips.

            “This is important to me,” she whispered softly.

            They lay beside each other staring up at the sky. Minutes passed.

            “Okay,” he whispered.

            She leaned up, and looked back at him, and smiled. She then lay back down, resting her head on his shoulder. They continued to look above, indulged in the romance of the night above them. She took in a deep breath, for at last she felt at peace.

            They laid there until the morning. The sun began to trickle through the trees. Beth awoke to this light heat she felt upon her body. She sat up, and looked down at her husband. She considered lying back down in the sun, but decided against it; she wanted to go home, and start her new life.