my son!” (Futila had dabbled a little with other boys.) Her mother said, “We can’t afford to take care your son’s mistakes.” His father said, “I’ll get the law on them. We’ll see whose baby this little tramp is blaming on my son!” In the end, a hasty marriage was arranged. Futila was happy. “I got my man. I’m a married woman. My future is here at last.” Dante was not happy, his thoughts were different. “I got a burden. My future is over.”
After the marriage, Dante’s father made him come home, get a job, and stand by his child. Dante was smart in his field, and got a job with no problem, although he did it in a cloud of anger and rage. He began to seriously compare his wife, her education and sensibilities and style, to the women he was leaving behind, the women with education and promise.
Passing over all the petty arguments, the young couple managed to have some agreeable times together. Futila was still attractive and he still liked her. It was agreeable to Dante having a piece of lovemaking right beside him every night. Then . . . the baby was born and dirty diapers, 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. feedings and crying noises interrupted his life every day and night. Oh, all the things that happen in a new-baby household.
Dante began to stay away from home more, and even out late at night till early in the morning. As a sophisticated college man, he was very popular with the young ladies in the small town. He had a nice car and wore his old college clothes when he relaxed, and stylish suits to work. He went into the insurance business as an employee and did tax returns on the side for a few years. Then he opened his own business. Insurance did so well, he kept only the largest tax customers and concentrated on insurance. He prospered.
His wife, Futila, had another child and gave up her countergirl job. She stayed at home being a housewife and mother. He continued to prosper. She was proud of that, among her friends, at first. Then, in a few years of changing diapers, cooking for herself (he didn’t always come home to eat), preparing baby food, she realized that her husband was free. Free of her.
Free! In his own private office, with telephone, new car, and uncounted money; he was free. She was surrounded with the washing, housecleaning, grocery shopping, a dumb TV, two small children, and friends she had thought were jealous of her. She also thought her husband could be sleeping with her friends. They looked satisfied, while she wasn’t satisfied at all.
She knew, by now, he had other women. Sometimes they called her house. Figuratively speaking, she began to lose her mind. Her life became bitter to her. What good is love that no one shares?
She thought of God, but didn’t know much about God. Her parents had been too tired for church. Gramma knew God, but couldn’t get anyone to take her to church, and her grandchildren didn’t want to hear the stuff she talked about anyway. She was too old to know anything.
So Futila didn’t know how to pray. But she was learning; sometimes in the middle of the night in an empty bed.
Futila was young, attractive, but she didn’t feel good. Dante was always on her mind, but out of her sight. She argued with him, but what could she do? He told her, “You can leave.” She didn’t want to give up her place in his life. She had nothing to turn to, except that job as a countergirl at the drugstore. And Time was going by.
Dante did love his children, they looked just like him. That was a good thing because it made it easier for his parents to accept them. His parents loved their grandchildren so he never thought of leaving Futila. Why should he? He was doing whatever he wanted to do anyway.
Now that she could afford it Futila bought pretty nightgowns, sexy perfume, and had regular hair care. Money don’t buy love, chile. Those things barely bought her moments. But, you know, there are times when you turn over and your spouse is beside you smiling, warm and