Cristina Rosamilia: The rug in the shop window

Agnes and I walked down Pine Street Saturday afternoon as we usually do these days. My Angelo's been gone to the South Pacific now almost six months and even Norman's been in England now, I think, what is it -- ten months? We're just two war wives now, trying to do the best we can, raising our children with our husbands overseas. And perhaps getting killed. We're window shopping now. I don't dare buy anything, money's so tight and who knows what'll happen when the war's over, if Angelo's lucky enough to come back? We'll probably get into another depression and then no one will have any money -- not even Agnes, and she's always been rich. She won't admit it, but she always has been.

Case in point, she walks into this shop and buys a rug for her kitchen -- dark red (her favorite color for all her oriental rugs, how many are there?), black, white, and even burgundy. She redecorated her kitchen after she found out about Norman's affair. Changed all the whites to colors. Got to admit, it looks pretty damned good. She's got great taste, but I'm glad I don't have to pay the bills. Norman told me once, once when we were lying in bed after a raucous afternoon, that being married to Agnes was tough because she always craved new things -- new books, new furniture, new clothes, new ideas, new projects, new challenges. Why can't she be satisfied with what she has, he would say, doesn't she remember living above my parents' pharmacy those two years before getting our own house?

I miss my afternoon romps with Norman. Maybe it's for the best, his being gone to England for the war. Removes the temptation to sleep with Agnes's husband. I know it's wrong, but I can't help it. And I met him first. He and I had been sleeping together off and on for a year before Agnes ever walked into the picture -- and without knowing it, she took him away from me. But I have to remember, he has his wife and I've got my husband. And right before he left, the last time we had sex, he told me it would be ... the last time we had sex. When he was coming back from the war, he would be faithful to Agnes and we would only be friends -- two married couples, going out on the town Saturday nights.

We'll see about that.