{Curiousity becomes a heavy load,
Too heavy to hold, too heavy to hold…}
Life has been good for Elsie Carson. Married the man of her dreams, been with him for nearly 25 years, had the most wonderful daughter who was in studying abroad and had kept a job that made her so happy all these years. She had always dreamed of a life like this, and she had achieved, and now she could only hope to live more so she could stay in this life for a little longer.
Charles Carson, her husband, was a kind and loving man. They met in their workplace, which was an hotel, one of the most important and crowded in London – the Downton Hotel. They fell in love instantly. She was everything he wanted on a girl, he was everything she wanted on a boy. It was perfect, and it remained perfect after all these years. He'd bring her flowers occasionally, make her dinner, take her out for a drink every once in a while. He didn't mind when she shopped too much, or when she forgot to do the dishes. She didn't mind when he drank a little too much, or when he left his underwear on the bathroom floor. They were in perfect sync.
But as soon as Ivy, their daughter of no 18, left for Manchester's Law School, it felt like something was missing. At first, it was only the stress from the work, as it was the Christmas season in the Hotel and they both knew they'd have little time for each other, but then… The talks began simple exchanges of simple words; the brushing of lips became fewer, and most of the time when Elsie begged for them were the times where Charles would… bring himself to. Something was missing, something was wrong.
Elsie loved him so much, and she was sure she hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. She was home because she took two days off work to get on some Christmas shopping, and on one Monday morning she began to suspect something.
"Charles…" She spoke softly, while in her nightgown, as she approached him in the kitchen. "…Is everything okay?"
Charles looked at her, cup of strong coffee in his hand and a relaxed look on his face. He was already dressed up for work. "Shouldn't it be?" He drank from his cup, calmly placing it in the counter afterwards.
Elsie sighed, crossing her arms. "You seem like… you're not you."
"Honey, I've been following the bosses like crazy these past days. You know how it is." He picked up his jacket from the chair next to him and dressed it. "You're lucky this year it's your turn to have the free days on this season. It's mad out there."
"Charles…" She approached him, grabbing his arm.
"Darling, you'll meet with Beryl today, won't you? Do me a favor and ask her to reply to my bloody email, because Robert really wants the reply by the end of this afternoon." He released himself from her, action Elsie thought to be of the coldest of ices. "I'll see you tonight," he grabbed the keys of his car and his bag, and started heading to the door.
"Won't you kiss me goodbye…?" She asked, completely worried something else was wrong. She couldn't understand his actions and she worried for the worse.
Charles turned to her. "I'm late, Elsie."
"Please. You never seem to kiss me like you used to in the past."
Charles shrugged, defeated, approaching her, leaving her a dry, unpleasing kiss on her lips.
…
Elsie had taken a shower and her breakfast before getting on some clothes to head out to Starbucks to meet with Beryl Patmore, an old but very close friend of hers. She wanted to pick some heels, get some nice make up on, so she wouldn't look like she was going to the hotel, but she couldn't bring herself to do it because Charles barely even looked at her that morning.
London was very cold in December, as always. The bus was crowded with tourists and Elsie almost forgot to exit where she was supposed to, her mind clouded with the search for reasons for him to behave like that. Holding on to her bag and to her scarf, she walked to where Beryl would be waiting her that said morning.
Beryl Patmore was the cook of one of the most famous restaurants in the area, and she had worked in the hotel with Elsie in the past, but left for an opportunity that had appeared for her. Since then, the restaurant where she worked became the main spot for old co-workers like Elsie and Charles as well her old bosses, the Crawleys, to have dinner, since they could always get tables.
"Good morning, Elsie…!" Beryl greeted joyfully, her fringe covering her forehead, that fiery hair she always had and loved. But the smile and the joyfulness vanished as she saw properly Elsie's face. "…looks like someone got out of the house in a hurry."
"I'm sorry, Beryl… and good morning." Elsie kissed her friend in the cheeks and sat beside her, taking the gloves out of her hands. "I really didn't felt like getting pretty for you, I'm afraid."
"Something the matter?" the redheaded asked.
If there was someone who knew their marriage well, Beryl was the person. Alongside Isobel Crawley, she was the bridesmaid, and the godmother of Ivy. Elsie began to explain what was happening, what she was feeling and how distant Charles seemed to be those past days. Beryl was getting worried for her friend.
"…That doesn't sound like him. Two months ago he bought you flowers and you two went to Wales and everything, and you've told me it was so good!"
Elsie nodded. "That's what I don't understand. When the subject is our daughter, he's all ears, but when there's something else, he just… doesn't listen. And it has been more frequent these past days…"
"I don't want to sound nosy, darling…" Beryl leaned forward a bit. "but what about the… you know."
"We haven't done anything in more than a month." Elsie sighed heavily. "I know we don't really have the time but we always found time for… those pleasures."
The redheaded woman crossed her arms "…Give him time, surprise him, I don't know. You never had this problem before, and I'm not really familiar with this kind of things."
Elsie looked at her own hands laying on her lap, mainly to her wedding ring. It wasn't shining as it did when she first wore it, but… it seemed heavier now.
…
Charles arrived home, Elsie could hear it from their bedroom. He got in there and smiled, but not a familiar smile, not the one she loved. "How was work?" Elsie asked, hoping to at least talk to him.
"Busy." He said, taking of his tie, then his shirt, then his trousers. Elsie looked at him carefully. "I'll take a shower."
"Go on." She replied dryly as well.
As he got inside the bathroom, Elsie got up. She had chosen something at least she thought he'd find appealing to him, and she sat on his side of the bed, crossing her legs. Looking at the mirror, she arranged her hair, and tried to smile. If he wasn't willing to have sex with her, at least she'd have to try to change his mind… Until a certain strong scent floated in the air, coming from his shirt.
She picked it up, and inhaled the scent coming from the fabric. Her hands started shaking, that scent… That scent was womanly, from someone's else perfume, from a woman. He was cheating on her… She didn't want to believe it. What had she done wrong? That perfume wasn't hers, she didn't even like strong perfumes. And it wasn't his, as well, as she knew perfectly every perfume he had because she had gotten him them all. She placed the shirt back on the bed, beside her, holding her tears, a lump growing on her throat.
And he got out of the shower, only with a towel on.
"…Elsie, honey?" Charles looked astonished. She looked to good, but her body was shaking. He noticed the shirt beside her… and he swallowed hard. She had noticed it.
"…" Elsie rose her head, swallowing hard as well. "Who is she?" She mumbled.
Charles approached her, his spine shivering in fear and regret. "…There's an explanation."
"I will ask again… Who is-"
"Elsie, please."
"…SHE?!"
She started crying. Angry, she rose back to her feet, thrown the white, regret-stinking shirt to his face and ran out of the room, locking herself in Ivy's old room. Charles followed her, asked for her to leave the room so they could talk. But she cried herself to sleep in her daughter's bed, holding on to one picture of them three when Ivy was younger.
Charles had cheated on her. And he didn't realize this curiosity for another woman's affection would be too heavy to hold.