The Wilsons were arguing in their cramped living area in the second story of Wilsons Garage. Myrtle was yelling so loudly her face was beginning to turn red and small droplets of saliva came shooting out of her mouth like a waterfall. From what others had told me, Myrtle had been telling George about how he was not fit to lick her shoe and was worth nothing. George was trying to argue back as best he could with what little chance Myrtle gave him with all her loud screeching, but made no success at telling her what he had to say.
George turned to face the door and took his hat off and held it to his chest. He placed his other hand on the cold metal handle and turned it. Myrtle stopped her yelling and an evil gleam could be seen in her eyes as she knew this was her chance to escape and leave this horrid man for good. George lifted his sad, hurtful eyes up at his beautiful wife and said solemnly, "I'm sorry," and meekly left the room. Myrtle stared after him out the door and turned to look back out of the window when she realised he wasn't coming back.
Myrtle placed her arm on the windowsill and rested her chin on her arms, then looked out at the advertisement with the eyes of T. J. Eckleburg staring back at her as if they were staring into her soul. In the light of the streetlamp, a mosquito buzzed around, bumping into it a couple of times, as the bright light streamed through the window and bounced off the round, salty tear that slowly slid down Myrtles now distraught face. That one small tear changed into a rainfall of tears, making a flood on the windowsill and soaking her sleeves. Myrtle rubbed her eyes on her sleeves, trying to dry them before deciding to talk to her husband. George pushed his ear up to the hard, wooden door and could hear the small short sobs and the long, mucous-filled sniffs coming from Myrtle and felt a pang of guilt rise in him. He slid away slowly from the door and walked down the old creaky stairs to his office.
As Myrtle glanced back out the window while she cleaned up her face, she realized that she hadn't given George as much credit as he deserved. He'd always been there when something went wrong with Tom and he didn't even need to know what was wrong, he was always the firm shoulder to cry on. She pulled herself up and straightened out her dress before glancing at her saddened face in the large mirror attached to her vanity table. She stretched her arm out and fiddled with the loose handle before letting herself out of the room. George heard her footsteps coming from the creaky floorboards above him and looked down into his cooling mug of coffee. Not a moment later was Myrtle standing awkwardly and uncomfortably at his office door.
"Myrtle,
did you wish to speak to me?" George looked up towards Myrtle's
now reddening face.
"Yes George. I've been thinking. I've
never really given you enough credit for the things you have done for
me. You've always been there when I needed you, no matter what the
circumstances. You've never questioned what I do. Oh George! I'm
so sorry for the way I treated you this evening, you don't deserve
my love George." Myrtle blurted out everything she had thought that
passed time in the bedroom before looking out the window at the same
time a flash yellow car drove past.
George walked up towards Myrtle and wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her fragile shoulder. "It's alright, Myrtle. Everything's gonna be alright," George whispered into Myrtles ear. A smile spread slowly across her face as she intertwined her fingers with George as she knew he would never leave her. "You're a sweet man George," she whispered back into George's ear. She tilted her head the tiniest bit to rest her own head against George's as they walked over to George's chair, and the two fell asleep, fingers intertwined, both smiling together for the first time in a while.
