A Timely Farewell: A Goodbye on the Journey Home

**A Late Farewell: A Goodbye on the Way Home**

After kissing his lover tenderly goodbye, Philip Carter got into his car and drove home. He paused for a moment outside the front door, taking a deep breath, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to his wife. He climbed the stairs and unlocked the door.

“Hello,” said Philip. “Eleanor, are you home?”
“I am,” replied his wife, without emotion. “Hello. Right then, shall I fry the pork chops?”

Philip had promised himself he would be direct, firm, no beating about the busha man of action! It was time to end this double life while he still felt the warmth of his lover’s lips, before routine swallowed him whole again.
“Eleanor,” Philip coughed, steadying his voice. “Ive come to tell you we need to separate.”

The news was met with unsettling calm. Eleanor was not a woman easily ruffled. In the past, Philip had even called her “Eleanor the Ice Queen” for it.
“What do you mean?” she asked, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Should I not fry the chops, then?”
“That’s up to you,” said Philip. “If you want to, fry them; if not, dont. Im leaving. For another woman.”

The average wife might have flown into a ragemaybe a saucepan hurled in his direction. But Eleanor was not like most.
“Oh, what a tragedy,” she murmured. “Did you pick up my boots from the cobblers?”
“No,” Philip admitted, startled. “If its so important, Ill fetch them now!”
“Oh, do grow up,” Eleanor muttered. “Youve always been like this, Philip. Send a fool to fetch boots, and he comes back with the old ones.”

Philip was offended. The grand drama hed imagined was crumbling. Where were the tears, the shouting, the righteous fury? But what else could he expect from a woman as cold-blooded as Eleanor the Ice Queen?

“I dont think youre listening, Eleanor!” he said, raising his voice. “Im telling you Im leaving you for another woman, and youre on about boots!”
“Precisely,” replied Eleanor. “Unlike me, youre free to go wherever you like. Your boots arent at the cobblers. Whats stopping you?”

Theyd been together for years, but Philip could never tell when Eleanor was serious or joking. Early on, it had been that very calm, that quiet composure, that drew him innot to mention her steady beauty and practical nature.
Eleanor was solid, loyal, and unmoved as a block of granite. But now Philip loved another. He loved with passion, sin, and sweetness! It was time to cut ties and start anew.

“And so, Eleanor,” Philip declared, with solemnity and a touch of regret. “Im grateful for everything, but Im leaving because I love someone else. I dont love you anymore.”
“How touching,” said Eleanor, her tone flat. “Doesnt love me, poor thing. My mother fancied the neighbour, my father fancied darts and whisky. And yet here I am, perfectly fine.”

Arguing with Eleanor was useless. Every word she spoke carried weight. His earlier fervour faded, and he no longer had the stomach for conflict.
“Eleanor, you really are something,” Philip said bitterly. “But I love another. I love with passion, sin, and sweetness. And Im leaving, understand?”
“Another who?” asked his wife. “Lucy Mason, isnt it?”

Philip recoiled. A year back, hed had a fling with Lucy, but he never imagined Eleanor knew her!
“How do you know about her?” he stammered, then cut himself off. “No matter. No, Eleanor, its not Mason.”
Eleanor yawned.
“Then its Sarah Wilson? You went back to her?”

A shiver ran down Philips spine. Sarah had also been his lover, but that was in the past. If Eleanor knew, why had she never said anything? But of courseshe was a fortress, never giving anything away.
“Wrong again,” Philip insisted. “Its neither Mason nor Wilson. Its someone else, wonderful, the love of my life. I cant live without her, and Im going. And dont try to stop me!”
“Then it must be Margaret,” concluded Eleanor. “Honestly, Philip youre hopeless. Your big secret. The love of your lifeMargaret Venton, thirty-five, one child, two miscarriages Am I right?”

Philip clutched his head. Shed hit the mark dead-on! His affair was indeed with Margaret.
“But how?” he spluttered. “Who told you? Have you been spying on me?”

“Elementary, Philip,” replied Eleanor. “You know Ive been a gynaecologist for years. Ive examined half the women in this town, while youve only known a handful. It takes me one glance to know where youve been, you fool.”

Philip took a deep breath, trying to salvage his dignity.
“Suppose youre right!” he said haughtily. “Even if it is Margaret, nothing changes. Im leaving.”
“You really are dense, Philip,” Eleanor sighed. “You couldve just asked. And honestly, theres nothing special about hersame as the rest. Have you even seen your sweethearts medical history?”
“N-no,” he confessed.
“Exactly. First, go wash up. Second, tomorrow Ill call Dr. Harper to see you without delay. Then well talk. What a disgracea gynaecologists husband picking an unhealthy woman!”

“Then what do I do?” Philip whined.

“Ill fry the chops,” said Eleanor, turning away. “You, clean up and do as you please. If you want a healthy woman later, let me knowIll recommend someone.”