The Housewife

Off the edge of the Mount Hood National Forest, in the borders of Marion County, and in the suburbs of Stayton, Oregon, there was a house that was filled with love that had nowhere to go.

“-did what? No, that doesn’t sound like Harvey at all…our Harvey?” A woman inside this house said, nervously tugging at her curled hair as she spoke on the phone, leaning up against the frame of her bedroom door.

The woman was of average height, with lightly tanned skin that was smooth and untarnished except for the slight hint of some removed tattoos around her neck and arms. Her hair was a curly brown, worn short in a soft ponytail. She wore a conservative cardigan over a sweater, comfortable but not very form-fitting.

Her crystal eyes had the soft hint of bags under them and, having just celebrated her 40th birthday, she was beginning to show the slightest creep of crow’s feet.

She licked her lips nervously, walking down the hall as she listened to her older sister frantically trying to fill her in. She only caught half of it, but that was fine, that was fine, she just needed to know enough to know everyone was ok. That Harvey and Tracy were ok. Her niece and nephews had always been little lights in her life, hell, she’d cleaned up her act for them more than she had for herself.

When Ryan had passed away, it had been…a real eye opener for her.

“I just don’t-ok, ok, go on.” She swallowed her words down with all the others she’d swallowed before.

She traipsed around her kitchen, idly touching things, letting her body go through the motions while her mind worked a mile a minute. And then she was off to the 2nd floor, climbing up the stairs and getting some laundry before her hand landed on the doorknob of a closed room.

The woman paused, looking at the door.

“...huh?” She was startled as her sister raised her voice. “No, no, I’m still listening, god, I’m so sorry, I got distra-I know, I just…what happened next?”

She moved on, glancing at the door before going back downstairs, stopping halfway down the flight of stairs as her sister almost whispered the last bit of the story.

“That’s…” What even was there to say to that? “Ok, ok, you have to go. I…he hasn’t been around, but if he shows up, I’ll call you. Yes, I’ll call you! Not the police. I know, I know. I love yo-.”

Muriel Cowden stopped mid-word, the sound of the call clicking shutting her up. Helen, her sister, was in near-hysterics, it wasn’t anything personal. She had a thousand different people to call, tracking down her son, trying to make sure she was alright.

Just…nevermind. Muriel sighed as she finished walking down the stairs, her free hand fretting with her cardigan as she carried the basket of laundry down to the washroom. The home was warm, with the browns of solid wooden walls and bright portraits of family pictures.

Only half of the portraits actually had photos in them. Her wedding, graduation photos, pictures of her mom and dad. Her husband didn’t bring many photos himself, he didn’t much like them. Didn’t have time for them, always thought he turned out looking poorly compared to others.

She supposed that was her husband with a lot of things.

As she came out into the living room, she sat down as the flames crackled in the firepit. John was a bit more of a modern man, thought it’d have been a better place for a TV than a fireplace, but they’d compromised, like they always did, and he’d gotten his hanging TV just off-center from the fireplace, perfect spot for him to watch in his favorite chair.

Muriel? She liked sitting on the couch. Middle seat. Although she’d typically start slipping left or right depending on if she were reading or watching TV, laying down to rest her head after keeping up the house all day. But now, she just sat and tried to digest everything she’d just heard.

“Oh, Harvey…” Muriel said, remembering her nephew and wishing him well wherever he was. Maybe she hadn’t been the ‘cool’ aunt for quite some time, but even when she had been, when Harvey was growing up, she had seen that he was, and assuredly still is, a good man.

Harvey was a big boy even when he was supposed to be little. It was like that little boy knew how strong he’d grow up to be with the things he tried to help with. Moving big boxes with his dad and brother, bringing back the yearly Christmas tree with everyone, helping with the family business as soon as he could hold a chisel.

‘If something needs doing, I want to be doing it.’ He’d say. Never a moment's rest for that boy and you’d never hear a complaint from him. You wouldn’t hear much from him at all. Some realized that was because he was a doer, not a talker.

Meaner folks thought he was dumb.

Muriel frowned, remembering the absolute nonsense she’d heard about Harvey over the years. That he was just a lug of muscle. That he was simple. That the reason he never went to college is ‘cause he got lost leaving the city and had to turn back. That God had given all the family smarts to his sister.

Well, if that last part were true, God had certainly given Harvey all of the family’s good sense to keep things fair and balanced. She loved Tracy, but…

“And now that girl’s gone and got Harvey in this sort of trouble…” No, no, that was unfair. Harvey had done what he did, if she was hearing right, to protect his little sister. Muriel wasn’t gonna be one of those church talkers that thought some women were asking for the wrong men to take an interest in them.

Especially since that’d probably make her the worst kind of person: a hypocrite. Muriel had gotten up to plenty before she married John and got her life together. She’d traded excitement for a home and she didn’t regret it. Not one bit. Never. While selling her chopper had been like chopping off an arm, she knew she didn’t have time for…time…

Oh shit, what time was it?

Muriel stood up, looked up at the clock, and swallowed hard. She’d spent far, far too long getting all up in her head and daydreaming and worrying and…not cooking! John would be back home soon and tonight was important, even with all of the business around Harvey!

“Oh and after all that talk I had of fixing him a big celebration feast for that raise he was getting for all the late night work he’s been doing,” Muriel said, scurrying into the kitchen and beginning to get out the makings for John’s favorite: cedar-planked salmon with wild mushrooms and a hazelnut-marionberry crumble for dessert!

Muriel wasn’t born a chef, but some would say she wasn’t born a wife either, and she’d proven all those snooty women wrong! Including her sister, she added, thinking of the abrupt end to their call earlier. She knew how to cook pretty alright now, especially her husband’s favorites!

Thankfully, she’d pre-prepared some of this earlier in the morning. John had promised that he’d be back home at the usual time, so she had just barely enough time to get everything ready if she just hurried, cut a few unnecessary corners, and put in some elbow grease! Not into the food, though.

An hour and a half of cooking later, and a few encouraging sips of wine between taste testing, the table was properly set for two just as John would be arriving home! Muriel, a little flushed, had changed out of her cardigan and sweater. She was dressed for her husband now, not for warmth.

A nice blue ruffled v-cut top with a long skirt that was a little chilly, but she’d worn less in colder. Albeit not alone! Ha! Muriel was maybe a little too excited for this, even with how the day had gone. It was just…it had been a while since John and her had…gotten involved.

He was always so busy with his work managing the plant. And it was good money, a job he’d taken for their…for their family. And maybe now it wasn’t exactly for that, but the money was still good! Muriel knew it ran him ragged, but her husband was ambitious. He wanted to become the director for all of the local counties!

Muriel Cowden was filled with pride for her husband as she waited for him to come home.

Two hours later, the food cold and the wine completely gone, pride was not what Muriel was feeling about her husband anymore. She had a blanket pulled up all around her. And she was still shivering, but not from the cold.

“That…asshole…” Muriel gritted her teeth as she stood up from where she’d been sitting just down the hall from the front door, waiting for her husband. The first hour? To welcome him warmly. The second hour? To give him a fierce tirade that she hadn’t been able to swallow down. Not after today, not after Harvey, not after the food she’d prepared.

She was hungry, she was tired, and she wanted to FUCKING break something.

Every step she took up the stairs was followed by the crashing sound of portraits as she swiped them off the walls, every door was kicked in as she came in overturned furniture, yelling obscenities that would’ve made whatever whore John was with blush and probably run away with her knickers around her ankle.

“You fucking promised, John, you’re a no-good motherfucker who can’t even call to say he’s going to be late! You better be FUCKING dead,” Muriel screamed as she punched and cracked the solid wood Mann-made wall. “I’m going to rip your ass apart if you don’t come LIMPING! I'll break your dick off with my teeth!”

She kicked over a fan, her anger building more and more. She wanted to break more, get this out, get this fire out of her chest. Muriel hated this, hated feeling this way but it was so freeing. It felt so good to rage, to remind the world that she was here, that she was a person! As she crashed through the next door, she stopped dead. The fire snuffed in her chest almost immediately.

A room that hadn’t been opened in a long time. The walls are half-painted blue. There’s dust settled on the paint brushes laid down on the ground, not knowing they’d never be picked up again. The only piece of furniture in the room was a cradle in the corner, one of the last things that Muriel’s dad had made with his own two hands before he passed away.

Muriel breathed in and out, swallowing everything back down. They’d been a little presumptuous getting this room together, hadn’t they? They’d always wanted a bunch of kids, but John…they just weren’t built for them, it turned out.

Regathering herself, realizing she’d made a mess of things in the house, Muriel turned around, stepped out of the room, and walked straight into a brilliant white light.

“Let’s give it up for the Housewife, Muriel Cowden!” Muriel stepped onto the marble floor of the circular room she was suddenly in. “We’re catching her at a bad time, so why don’t we spiffy her up for our special Mann.”

Muriel hadn’t even properly understood what was happening before she felt her dress flutter from a bizarre wind, the wine stains suddenly disappearing before her eyes, and the alcoholic haze over her mind disappear.

“Wha-what-wher-?” Muriel looked around, shocked.

But not more shocked than Harvey as he stood up.

“Miri?” He was even more confused now as his aunt came out of a small little hallway that had opened up and spit her out mid-step. “Is that you?”

Muriel locked eyes with him and the strangest thoughts came to mind. “Oh my god, Harvey, you’re here! Are you ok? I thought-I heard about-!”

“I’m…I’m ok, Miri…you shouldn’t be here.” Harvey looked at Hatsmith. “She shouldn’t be here.”

Hatsmith hummed. “Why so?”

“She’s…married.” He wasn’t quite sure how to properly encapsulate everything wrong with her being here, especially being here for some kind of…relationship with him? A romantic relationship with his aunt was insane. She'd basically been an older sister his entire life. He frowned at the idea of her being some kind of sex ****.

“Barely.” Hatsmith said, tapping her chin, before smiling at Harvey. “But I think Muriel here fits right in, by my metric.”

Muriel stepped closer, her fingers tangled in the ruffles of her top. “Where, um, where am I? I was just at my home, my husband…he’ll be home any minute. I…I need to clean up the house! I left such a mess…”

Hatsmith snapped her fingers as a number of those small little women with weird skin colors and wings came over. Muriel’s eyes widened as they approached her and she shakingly pointed at them.

“O-Oh my God, are those…am I…dead? In hell?” Muriel wasn’t quite sure what’d she done during her wilder years to deserve hell, but...

The imps giggled as they swarmed her, taking her hand out of her ruffles, and began pulling her. Muriel followed, her mind still huffing and puffing trying to catch up to the insanity of the world around her.

“No, no, Muriel,” Hatsmith said, smiling fondly. “Allow me to explain.”

Harvey thought she was about to sing again.

Instead, Hatsmith simply turned to the hallway once more as Muriel was guided to one of the other chairs in the circular room, “But first…let’s move on to the next contestant! I find it more efficient to explain to all the contestants once when they’re all here.”

“Wait, but I really-” Muriel said, blinking in shock at being put to the side so seamlessly.

“Let’s give it up,” Hatsmith interrupted with aplomb, “for the Soldier!”