Before I met Harold, I used to walk through the Barnes Bridge subdivision with my dog. The lawns were green and manicured, the flowers and plants were pieces of art, the houses looked somehow warmer and more appealing than mine. The people came in couples. In the years, after my Father died I grew old and alone and afraid. I was just the spinster lady that lived on Oak street. So when I met Harold, and he wanted to marry me it was a miracle.

Harold and I enjoyed the residuals from Daddy's screenplay. Just a year before he died, he had finally written the ultimate cult classic hit. He became semi-famous and semi-rich with that one. It was a silly piece of work really "Dinner with Dudley." But somewhere, at midnight, every Friday, it showed to packed theaters. New fans were born with each showing and the video sales were continuing to roll in. With my investments (carefully hidden away) I would always be OK.

Harold and I married, late in life. I was just over the line of forty when I fell in love with him. We met at the A & P, where he was an assistant manager. I fell hard. It was that kinda madness that is blind to all reason. For the first time in my life I felt hope. Unfortunately, it faded quickly after the wedding. Maybe it was finding out he married me for Daddy's money (which he told me in a drunken rage). Or maybe it was the first time he hit me (another drunken rage). I never expected that he loved me. No one ever said I was beautiful or funny or even interesting. My belated dreams of writing were shattered with my marriage. Harold quit his job when we had been married a week. He was a drinker, a womanizer, and he was gambling away my future at an alarm rate. There were no options left. Even though Harold lived with me now, I still lived alone. My anger was under the surface and simmered on a low burn.

I guess you could say I was surprised when Mrs Brown and Mrs Stevenson wanted to take me to brunch at the Eclipse Roadhouse on Sunday. "You get to know your neighbors, well in this small town environment." suggested Mrs Stevenson, over lattes. "Vera, we just want to make sure he is treating you right my dear," interrupted that sharp little Mrs Brown. It would have been more embarassing, but it was the first time I had seen the two women in action. Pale and tall, Jane and her new best friend, the dark gypsy Gia Brown, were an unlikely combination.

Jane Stevenson and Gia Brown were an alliance, formed on a bus one day. Apparently, an escaped convict had tried to hijack the Number 50 to downtown. The story went, that the driver and the two ladies sitting so close to me now, had overpowered the convict. For a moment, I knew how he felt. They were overpowering. I could see where they could be a little dangerous. If these two ladies, were Sherlock and Watson, I thought maybe Sherlock was the short one. If they were Sonny and Cher, I was pretty sure that Sonny was the tall one. I stopped short of laughing.

Then it sunk in. People knew. My sunglasses and the extra make up had not protected me from prying eyes and nosy neighbors. I almost cried with shame and relief. I had always been a solitary woman. I had never had to live with secrets. Jane patted my hand and Gia looked at me with a strange intense appeal.

It seems their unusual friendship was spilling over to me. I was not sure if I should be offended, or touched at their concern. Mrs Brown looked hard at me. "Divorce would not be a problem. the alternatives would not be so good" she raised her eyebrows. My God, people really did know. At that moment, I decided not to kill Harold. The plan, had after all, been contingent on not having witnesses. So I went home, and unloaded the shotgun.

On Monday, I filed for divorce. It is funny how the lonliness and fear faded away. I still live by myself on Oak Street. Every Sunday, I have brunch with my friends. Someday, I will have to thank them, but not today. Today I will share my latest manuscript. My friends will laugh and talk. Their light and dark contrast will startle me as it did the first time I saw them together. Jane will update us on the local gossip, and ever once in awhile Gia will interrupt. She will be sharp and perceptive. Today I will celebrate the fact that I am not alone.