Wendy Saves Herself

“What did you do to your hair?” Peter asked sternly.

“It’s a Pixie cut, and I love it.” Wendy retorted.

Peter stared at Wendy. His gaze like a ray gun, attempting to diminish Wendy who would normally cower in his presence. Seeing her stand there, unshrunk, Peter resorted to his other favorite tactic.

“Who would want you like this? You look like a boy. You’ll never marry again. You’ll never have anyone to take care of you. You’ll be homeless.”

“Who says I want to remarry when this divorce is finalized? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I know who I am. I may have lost sight of myself during this marriage, but these last few months have brought me back to the person I was before you. I don’t need you.”

“You really think so? What skills do you have? You haven’t worked in 10 years. There’s nothing”-

Wendy picked up a dish from the drying rack and slung it across the kitchen. It hit the wall and shattered into a pile on the floor.

Peter turned to the mound of broken ceramic pieces and back at Wendy.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You are. I have had enough of your name-calling, your insults, and everything that you do to make me a shell of a person I was once was!” Wendy roared.

"So, you've got a little moxie and you think you're tough now. Sweetheart, I will leave you with nothing and you'll be kissing my feet, begging for me to take you back."

“I don’t care what you keep. I will leave with my self-respect and that is more valuable than any of the houses, cars, or money. Even the last name!"

Peter cackled. “You’re delusional. You will never make it anywhere without the money, and especially without the name but I’ll make sure that you cannot keep the name after the divorce. Good luck, my dear, you’re really going to need it.”

Peter walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Wendy followed. Her heels clicking on the tile floor as she pursued him.

“You’re not my savior. I don’t need anything that you have. I am moving out tonight. I have my own place, and I have a job.”

Peter’s face glowed like Rudolph’s nose against the backdrop of the lit fireplace.

“Oh, let me guess. Does the man who owns the bookstore on Main live in this place of yours? Are you a clerk at the bookstore?”

“No and no. I don’t need any man to provide for me. What my job is and where I live, is my business. Not yours.”

“Just know that when you walk out that door, the locks will be changed.”

“Perfect. I have no use for this place anyway. I’ll make sure to leave my key on the nightstand just in case you don’t get the locks changed right away.” Wendy said with a smirk.

Peter, incensed, responded, “Why don’t you just leave with the clothes on your back?”

Wendy chuckled. “I know you so well that I knew you would say that. That’s why I already have my things. You know what- -- forget the nightstand, here’s your key.”

Peter, not knowing what else to do, held out his hand and received the key. “I hope you know what you’re losing, Wendy!” Peter said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, I do. Dead weight." Wendy walked out of the living room and exited the front door, leaving a befuddled Peter behind.

***

 A knock on the front door disrupted Wendy from the easel where she was re-imagining the mountains outside her window.

“Who could this be?” Wendy thought to herself.

Wendy opened the door and saw a short, stout man in a tweed suit with a bowler hat and glasses.

“Hello, ma’am! My name is Jerry Soli. I work with Sanders and Son’s Law Firm. I’m here on behalf of your ex-husband, Peter Kensington. Do you have a minute?”

“Sir, with all due respect, I want no part of this. I did not want anything from him in the divorce, and I would appreciate it if I could be left in peace. Thank you and good day.”

The door was half closed when Mr. Soli yelled, “Ma’am, I have terrible news!”

Opening the door wider, Wendy snapped, “What could be more terrible than you showing up at my door at the request of my ex-husband!?”

“Ma’am. Peter —I mean— Mr. Kensington passed away.”

Tears, she did not know she had for Peter, welled in Wendy's eyes. "What do you mean, passed? How?”

“May I come inside, ma’am?”

Wendy moved out of the door frame to allow Mr. Soli inside. They sat on the couch, the lone piece of furniture in the living room. Wendy lived like a nomad and could not be bothered with stuff.

“Mrs. Kensington, er uh, what should I call you now?

"Ms. James, please." Wendy replied so softly it sounded more like a whisper.

“Ms. James- Mr. Kensington died of a heart attack while on a flight for a business trip to London.”

Tears began to stream down Wendy’s face, shocking Wendy back into the present.

“Mr. Soli, if my husband — ex-husband — is dead, why are you here?”

“Well, ma’am, Mr. Kensington left everything to you in his will.”

“There’s no way. I didn’t want anything, and he was adamant he wasn’t leaving anything. That will must be old.”

“No, ma’am. He reviewed it the day before he died. He was in my office, and we went over everything line by line. He was very clear that he wanted to leave it all to you, and he also—"

Mr. Soli reached into his blazer pocket.

“He also left this letter for you. He left instructions that you were to open this letter upon his death.”

Shocked, Wendy took the envelope and pinched the length of it, wondering what was inside.

“Ms. James. I don’t want to keep you long. There’s some paperwork that I need for you to sign so that I can transfer Mr. Kensington’s assets and estate over to you. Do you have a table where we could sit and complete the paperwork?”

Still marveling at the envelope, Wendy answered, “No, I do not.

Could I have a moment to myself? This is a lot to take in. Maybe I can come to your office and sign the paperwork when I’m ready?”

“Absolutely, ma’am. My apologies. I understand this is unexpected and sudden. I will leave you my business card. When you’re ready, come in.”

Mr. Soli got up to show himself out the door.

“Do you know what’s in this letter?” Wendy asked.

Mr. Soli turned to look at Wendy somberly. “Ma’am. I’m afraid I do not. All I can say is your ex-husband always spoke highly of you.”

A lump appeared in Wendy’s throat, and she began to examine the envelope all over again.

Mr. Soli looked at her for a moment.

“I’m truly sorry for your loss.” Mr. Soli said gently before turning around and walking out of the house.

Taking a deep breath, Wendy opened the letter.

Dearest Wendy,



My father always said apologies were a sign of weakness so instead, I’ll say this. I loved you, but not well. I thought I was giving you the world, but you showed me the world. A world as beautiful and as vivid as your paintings I’ve seen in art magazines. I wish I could turn back time, and un-waste your years with me. You deserved so much better, and I believe you’ve found it now. I know that when you read this letter I will be gone. I hope that I found my back to you before I died and that I loved you as I should have from the beginning.

             With Love,

                          Peter

“Peter, you’re a master manipulator even in death.” Wendy muttered before taking a lighter to the letter.