Serves Him Right
by Temptme
"Damn him," Gertie's mind stormed. He still hadn't installed that light switch at the top of the cellar stair like
she'd told him. Idiot man would be the death of her yet. It'd serve him right if one of these times she killed herself going down those rickety old stairs in the dark. She had given up trying to get him to fix the stairs and had decided instead on having him move the light switch. Even that seemed to be more than the dimwit was capable of. Well, some hell or high water, Ronald would do it tonight or he'd be sorry.
It amazed her that anyone with such little ability to look after his home could manage to oversee an entire shift at
the power plant. He might have fooled all of those butt-kissing, yes-men at the plant but she knew just what a spineless, inept sap he really was. The man was such a dolt; she had to tell him which socks to wear and remind him to brush his teeth. What would he do without her? He would fix that light for her tonight. By golly he would!
Gertie began her frustrating search for the cord. She supposed it was something that she had managed to get
Ronald to run the string to the wall. Before, it had just hung straight down from the ceiling in the middle of the room.
That had been a chore-and-a-half to find. She still didn't understand why Ronald had run it over to the side. Wouldn't it have made more sense to have it at the bottom of the stairs? More proof that the man was a simpleton. Sometimes she wondered if he wanted her to break her neck on the stairs? Only her certainty that he would be lost without her prevented her from giving that thought much more than a passing consideration.
How far was it to the cord anyway? Gertie trailed her fingers slowly along the mildewy wall. In places the cinder
blocks had begun to crumble from the damp of the cellar. The ground water leeched into them and brought with it salts and minerals that ate relentlessly at the cement of the blocks, leaving behind nothing but powder. Another job that he would probably never do. Waterproof the cellar. Sooner of later the whole house would fall down around their ears and he'd be sitting in his armchair, eyes glued to the tube. What had she ever seen in him? It was beyond her!
This was getting to be ridiculous. She should have stumbled over the jagged rock that poked up through the damp
earth of the cellar floor by now. Once, just after they had bought the house, Ronald had decided to cement the floor. He had tried to dig out the rock so that the floor would be level. She could still see how he had looked when finally he gave up on it; all covered in sweat and grime, he was. Stupid oaf had the nerve to walk into her hospital clean kitchen like that.
Gertie remembered it as if it had been yesterday.
"Ronald! Just what the hell do you think you are doing?" She had roared at him. "Do you think that I have
nothing better to do than spend all day on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor just to have you come dragging in here covered with all that filth? Don't give me that hangdog look of yours, either. Get out back and hose yourself off." That had been the end of his attempt at getting rid of the rock.
"Must be as big as the whole house" Ronald had whined. He had filled in the hole, and that had been that. Still trailing her fingers lightly over the mildewy wall, Gertie's brow creased with worry. Could she have missed a
rock that big without even noticing? She didn't think so. Last time she was down here she had stumbled on it and nearly landed face down in the dirt. Only windmilling her arms frantically kept her upright. She had been relieved Ronald hadn't been there to see her. Just imagine how that moron would have doubled over with laughter! He had laughed at her, once.
That time in the kitchen, when her slippered feet had caught on the braided rug. The pot of hot soup she had carried to the table went flying, splattering everywhere. It took her nearly two days to clean it all up. And he had laughed.
Why did she put up with him? Was his paycheck really worth it? Her day was coming. It wouldn't be much longer before she could leave that simpering idiot, once and for all. She had been socking money away for years now. As
soon as she'd realized that his money sense was as about as good as his common sense, (God knew he didn't have any of
that), Gertie had insisted that he let her handle all of the household finances. She gave him a generous allowance of
twenty-five dollars every two weeks for himself and had never asked how he spent it either. Probably on coffee and sports pools at work.
While he was busy blowing his money, Gertie started investing the extras. At first it didn't amount to a hill of
beans, but after almost twenty years it had finally started to be worth something. She was glad that he hardly ever came down cellar. No need to worry about him finding the small metal box which held her stock certificates. Gertie had dug a small hole under the shelves where she kept her preserves and put the box in, covering it with a flat rock and some dirt, just in case. Any day now she would have enough to leave him. Then, he would just have to find another poor sucker to keep him fed, clothed, and happy in the sack.
Some of the things that Ronald tried to have her do in bed were just not worth it. Where did men get their ideas
anyway? Just went to prove what her mother had always said. Men were no different from dogs, always being led around
by their pricks. Gertie had followed her Mother's advice and just lay there with her eyes closed, doing her grocery list in her head. Fortunately, Ronald never lasted long. Mother had told her that some men went on for hours. Thank God Ronald wasn't one of them. Wifely duty or not, Gertie couldn't have tolerated more than ten minutes of Ronald's
animalistic pawing and drooling. And that horrible panting he did set her teeth on edge. Silly bugger had even suggested that she might enjoy it if she'd just move a little. Everyone knew that the only women who enjoyed sex were those whores who stood on the corner of George and Dalhousie streets. Gertie believed the money they earned for their favours bore a strong relationship to how much they enjoyed sex. If that was what Ronald wanted he could damn well go pay for it. Yes, it was almost time. She had done her duty by him. Now she would get her payback, and Ronald would get just what he deserved.
If she could just find the blasted string for the light. All Gertie wanted was to turn on the light, get the jar of
peaches, and get out of here. If she didn't find it soon, she would turn around and go back. He could just have supper without dessert. It wasn't as if he appreciated any of the meals she slaved over for him anyway. He wolfed everything down with the same lack of grace, no matter what she had made. Maybe she just would't cook for him any more. Serve him right for not doing what he was told.
"Christ, what was that?" Gertie cocked her head to listen. There. A high-pitched, mewling sound. Had some
mangy old cat managed to find it's way into her cellar? A strong desire for a flashlight washed over Gertie. If a cat was in here it only meant one thing. Mice, or worse, rats. Gertie's one phobia ( she'd never admit it to anyone) had always been rats.
"That's it. I'm getting out of here>"
Slowly, Gertie turned around, being careful to keep her hand on the wall. With her left hand trailing along she
started back toward the stairs. One thing was certain, she would call the exterminator this very afternoon. If she told Ronald to do it he would forget, and there was no way she was going to live in a house full of vermin! Everybody knew rats carried fleas, plague, and God only knew what else. Hopefully, the exterminator would be able to come right away. A few spiders and beetles, she could live with. Rats were out of the question. They had to go.
"Why can't I see the doorway?" Though she was used to groping in the dark for the light's frayed hemp cord,
there had always been some light filtering down through the cellar door. Even at this time of day there should have enough sunlight spilling into the kitchen to illuminate the doorway. Gertie always felt better leaving the cellar than going in. After she turned out the light, her eyes would adjust to the dark and the doorway would be visible. For some unknown reason, there wasn't even a hint of light where the door should have been. Maybe Ronald had come home early and closed the door without first checking to see if she were down here. That would be just like that addle-brained simpleton. He was in for the tongue-lashing of his life when she got out of here.
It couldn't be that far to the stairs. If she just stayed calm, she'd be out of here in no time. The thought of verbally taking down a few notches filled her heart with glee. She smiled maliciously as she began carefully inching her way through the tomblike blackness of the cellar. Yes, this time he would get just what he deserved. First, she would use every venomous word that she could think of on him, then she would announce her plan to leave him. Serve him right, it would.
Teach him for not paying attention to her wisher. She didn't care how much pleading and whining he did. This was the last straw. Ronald was about to find out how tough life would be without her.
"Merciful Jesus, where's the wall?" She had been trailing her fingers along the wall when suddenly, it just wasn't
there. It made no sense. A wall couldn't disappear without making any noise. Even if part of the wall had finally
collapsed, she should have heard it. Hell, the house would have crashed down on her. Maybe she had wandered away from the wall without realizing it. "If only I could see. It's black as the grave down here." Not daring to go on without anything to guide her, she stood there trying to decide what to do. Was the wall still there behind her? Without turning, Gertie groped blindly for the was. There ir was all right. How could it just end like that?
"I suppose I'll just have to keep on going the way I was." The room was square, sooner or later she was bound to
end up back at the stairs. Who knew, maybe the cord was just a few feet from where she had decided to turn back. For some reason Gertie didn't think so. "Please, please don't let me run into any of those rats." Gertie tried to remember the dimensions of the room. Ronald had mentioned it that time he'd measured for the floor. What had that dork said. Twenty by thirty, or was it by fifty feet. It didn't really matter. Only finding her way out counted now.
What were those sounds just on the edge of her hearing?
Was it her imagination, or had the floor begun to slope downward? The faint but undeniably unpleasant odours of
something rotten and decayed wafted cloyingly into Gertie's nostrils. Oh shit, this was getting really creepy. It was all Ronald's fault. If that blank shooting, impotent jerk had ever managed to get her pregnant she'd have sent the kid down here and she would be safely upstairs. Instead, she found herself groping her way along in the ebony abyss of this musty old cellar. If she ever did manage to find her way out, she would have one heck an allergy attack to deal with. No point in thinking about that now. Gertie had more important things to worry about.
The sounds she had been hearing were clearer now. They seemed to have changed somehow. No longer did they
remind her of the scurrying, scrabble of rats. They had taken on an almost human quality. In fact, they sounded so human they sent shivers down her spine and raised gooseflesh on her arms. Where the hell was she going? Gertie didn't want to know. No, she did not want to know. She had this sick feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach, that she already knew.
The floor had taken on an even more pronounced pitch. As she descended further into the bowels of what she was
certain was no longer her cellar, Gertie gradually realized that she could see. Nothing concrete yet, just silhouettes, and different depths to the shadows. A plaintive, moaning sound drifted to her ears. Sobbing, there was sobbing. Why were all of these people in here? They all sounded so wretched, as if they were existing inside their vilest nightmares. The cacophony of their combined wailing threatened to drive her to the brink of insanity.
"Please, don't let it get any brighter in here. I don't want to see. If I have to spend eternity here, please, oh please, don't let me see!"
While she couldn't comprehend what she had done to deserve this fate, she was certain of one thing. Ronald
wasn't here to suffer along with her. He deserved this far more than she. Her only comfort was that one of these days he'd join her, and she'd be waiting. Oh yes, she'd be waiting....
*****
Ronald slunk into the glittering porcelain and chrome kitchen, head bowed, ready for the onslaught of Gertrude's
acidic tongue. When it didn't come, he looked up in surprise.
"Gertrude, I'm home," Ronald softly called out. No response. Where could she be? It wasn't like Gertrude to be
out when he came home. Supper was usually on the table and she was always waiting for him with some snide remark or
other. The hissing sound of water boiling over drew Ronald's attention to the stove. The large, enameled pot that always signaled spaghetti for dinner, was boiling away unattended. That wasn't like her either. Turning off the stove, he called out again.
"Gertie! Where are you?" Still no answer, not even a cutting Ronald, keep your mouth shut. Your loud enough to
wake the dead. Serves you right if the neighbours call the police with all that racket you're making.
He didn't understand why she wasn't there, but he decided to put his time to good use. Maybe it he installed that
light switch for Gertie, she would be pleased and let him alone for a change. He often wondered what his life would have been like if he had married someone else, or never married at all? Too late to think about that now. Fact was, he had married Gertie. He had made his bed and now he had to lie in it. She had been so different when they were courting. Not even the tiniest hint of what she would become. He wondered if having children would have made a difference? Not likely, just more people for Gertrude to ride roughshod over. Better not to think about it. He'd just get his tools and surprise her with the switch he had picked up at the store on his way home.
Ronald flicked on the flash light that he used whenever he want down cellar. Gertie liked to call him a pansy
when he used it, but he wasn't as comfortable with the stairs, or groping for the light cord as she was. She though this was a sign that he wasn't much of a man, but he thought of it as being cautious. Shining the light ahead of him, Ronald started down the stairs. Just about half way down, one of the steps was missing. Oh jeez, if Gertie had started trying to repair the stairs, he would never hear the end of it. The light still needed a switch, so being careful no to drop the step ladder, he stepped carefully down over the extra space and continued on.
Almost there. What was that, a pile of rags at the bottom of the stairs? Had there been a flood? It was an old
house, but the pipes had seemed fine last spring. Being late summer, it was still too warm for the pipes to have frozen and burst. Getting closer he knew for certain it wasn't a pile of rags. Ronald could see what it was, even in the small beam from his flash light. "Gertie, oh Gertie."
He stepped gingerly over her crumpled form, dropped what he was carrying, and sank to his knees next to his wife.
Hesitantly, he felt for a pulse. God, she really was dead. Conflicting emotions raced through him. Fear, hate, sorrow, and finally, a sense of relief. He had ultimately proved Gertie right. He had been the death of her. "Well Gertie, you told me I should have fixed the stairs. Guess it's too late now. I suppose I'll just have to learn to live without you. Serves me right."
© Temptme 2003
