Paula opened the cupboard and counted the shirts, pale blue, white, green and maroon…there were four shirts that she counted last year...hung in a musty Space. He had exactly four pants to match thought Paula, unlike Keith he was not a spender, George saved all his money for retirement and gave Paula exactly what was required for the Mortgage and her own expenses. She couldn’t squeeze in a buttered toast beyond that under his nose, “white Bastard” muttered Paula rocking in her chair…

Fourteen years back Paula was a little girl in Philippines where the Market was crowded and people bought coconut grated on the spot, fresh, white and fluffy. She was born to a full household of ten children, her mother was often busy with her work and father beat her mother every time she tried uttering a word, a syllable and an AH! .

Paula was quiet most of the time- even when it hurt, bled and scarred her within to see the mother’s anguish and anger and moments of insanity that grew dark in her beady eyes. Mother fed her Sardines day-in and day-out; it was like other than sardines there were no fish in the sea.

When George married Paula in New York, she had vowed never to eat Sardines, they were ugly, skinny and sans flesh, they reminded her of poverty, Philippines and especially her first marriage with Keith which was like a boat in a storm, in the middle of nowhere with two survivors in it.

If poverty made people stingy it had made Keith “GAWD”, when Paula worked her ass off in a Chemical lab as an engineer, she would bring home four figures and eventually a fancy car, couple of credit cards and a big credit line...

Mr. “GAWD” was like all Asian men, he would couch in front of the big screen like a potato and watch Paula hustle in the kitchen till late nights . Every night his hands would work on Paula, his slimy, ugly hands, just like sardines from the dirty sea…thought Paula, other than the Television his biggest entertainment was porn. She shivered in the chill and drew deep rounds on her baldhead with her own small fingers…as if to forget “GAWD” or Keith whatever they called him.

George was a difficult man, tight with money; he was tall, white and honest, had a city job and was easy to please. Poor George!

Paula whirled her wheelchair to the far south corner of the house where sun reflected on her pale yellow walls, it was a long time since she watched the sun from this corner…

If only she didn’t hit her Son, she could visualize 5 year old Ron lying on the floor begging her to stop, she would whip him with a belt “whip”, “whip”, “whip”, it was like she was possessed. If only Keith didn’t look elsewhere for lust?

That fateful day, she had come home at the wrong time; it was an afternoon that was high up with an orange hue, she entered the door wondering why Keith had come home early

It was a simple hesitation….

“Click”

The door gave way easily, too easily, she could hear some muffled noises from her bedroom, she walked in with a heavy heart to watch Keith with a blonde Asian, locking lips, thigh and with all the juices that were oozing out from their body, they looked like two sardines copulating on the sand, ugly, slimy and uncomfortable with guilt.

She had puked in the toilet before she left, as if, to erase it from her stomach, which is where she thought it hurt.

The divorce was a battle the “GAWD” in Keith asked Paula’s forgiveness for their only child’s sake...but Paula had enough of Gawds …she needed something to cuddle and sleep at night instead of a creepy sardine. She also needed money so; she withdrew all of Keith’s and transferred it in to her account. Keith had misjudged Paula’s kindness and incapacity in bed, he had just found out that she could be a bitch, bloody bad bitch.

The bitch had thrived even after a bad bout of depression; it was her son who held her tight, handsome now like his dad.

Ron saw Paula’s head leaning on one side, he made her comfortable against the window and the wall, her mother had never slept like this in so many years, he soothed her head with his palms, her wrinkles were crisp and moist from the sweat.

Ron would forgive Paula, but he did not like George anyways, George did not fund his education. He did not feel like talking to George, he wrote nasty letters to George using filthy language and hid them under his pillows.

When he called his dad over the weekends Keth, Keith, now who is wedded to the same blond sardine and has two little sardines, would agree with Ron ” if only your mom did not nag so much, she is a wonderful woman you know”, Ron thought that he should ask his dad to rephrase. He thankfully left the phone off the hook and heard his father go “hello, hellooo”; Keith didn’t pay for his tuitions either.

Ron had grown up now and had a steady girl friend; and had wondered why George and Paula still slept in separate rooms. Their other daughter few years younger than Ron always grew up with a notion of family that was mostly weird from the rest.

I had heard that Paula was devastated when she divorced Keith, she went kissing random men who expressed pity and lust on the hind sight, she told me many times...”do you know

 how I found George”? , I would nod sideways…”because I treated him like a king”

So that is what men want to be ? crowned like  Kings, gods?

Paula had sought a psychiatrist and it was a turnaround, she shed her deserted -by -husband look and rapidly lost weight, she wore skinny tight tube tops from where her white boobs were blinking like neon bulbs. She had a new hairdo and put on makeup, in her own words she stopped mourning and became a predator.

There was no going back; the skinny Philippines girl had wet dreams once again.

George came home late tonight, Paula was brought to her bed, and he stared at her, it was time to say good night and call it a day…

George married Paula because he had accidentally impregnated her with a child and she wouldn’t give it up for any reason. George didn’t want to let Paula raise his child alone, and by now he was 45 and wanted to settle down. After much arguments and a pre-nup where Paula disowned all his inheritance, he let her share his house and live with him and cook clean and iron his clothes, she wouldn’t work out side for wages, he would support her in her old age, he promised her under his thick graying mustache, his blue eyes and thin frame was emphatic.

Paula believed him. It was Convenient for George.

He let her stay, like a friend, like a neighbor, like a maid...she often complained that it wasn’t real…the marriage wasn’t like it was in third world countries.

Paula looked pale lately; chemotherapy had made her weak. There was a tumor growing

In her breast she announced casually. It was stage 3 and went unnoticed…

George? What about George?

“He still sleeps in his own room and doesn’t spend on clothes...let me tell you the truth, he doesn’t bathe for a week long”

She whispered…it was not easy to convince her to accept any form of assistance and she was on her own all by herself.

Paula died I heard today, it was a recurrence of Breast cancer…George informed emotionless

There were no pauses just a neat straight condolence, like all Americans do; George might have worn a black suit. I suppose?

I could imagine,  my prayers are with you paula, hope the  almighty marry you to the right man in Heaven,

Amen.