Ronnie

Ronnie had never liked the nickname her husband had given her. All her life she'd gone by Veronica, but within a week of dating he'd started calling her "Ronnie" and she was too infatuated with him to say anything. Now, six years since their wedding and eleven months into their trial separation, she still uses the name as a reminder of him. As if it'll bring him back.

She'd moved into the neighbourhood five months ago, as a necessity. Her husband had left her with both the house and the mortgage, and she had been unable to continue payments with her single salary. The bank had forclosed on the mortgage, and she had had to move into a bachelor suite with as much of the furniture as could fit inside. She had gotten rid of the dining set and many of her books, but had kept his leather rocking chair because its smell reminded her of him. Because she could still picture him sitting in it and reading his newspaper, as he had done every evening.

Ronnie felt that his leaving really was only a trial, a trial for her to become a better person. She realized that she hadn't been as good a wife as she could've. So now that she had this free time she busied herself with self-improvement. She took classes on cooking, on sewing, on many of the things she'd seen her mom do as she was growing up. She practiced yoga every day in her apartment, pushing aside the furniture to make room for her mat. She wasn't losing the weight she had wanted to, though, so she started cutting back on food, and the pounds had dropped. She was tired a lot, but she thought it was worth it for when her husband came back to her.

Having lived in her apartment nearly half a year, she still had yet to know her neighbours. The building manager Keith liked her because she paid her rent on time, but because of this he'd never had any reason to call on her and so their conversations were reduced to greetings in the hallway. She smiled at everyone she passed on the street (she had read somewhere that men preferred their wives to be cheerful at all times) but she didn't want to bother them with talk. Mitchell had liked her best when she stayed at home with him, so she'd lost the art of making friends. All of her friends had been his first, and she hadn't heard from them just as she hadn't from him.

The only other person she knew by name in the building was Jill, who had introduced herself when Ronnie first moved in. Ronnie had been polite in return, but she otherwise declined the younger woman's invitation for Irish coffee. Not that Jill didn't seem like a nice person, but Ronnie couldn't understand her. What sort of woman doesn't want a husband? What sort of woman would have muscular arms, and ride around on a motorbike, as if she were a man? Ronnie was well aware of homosexuals, and Jill had declared herself one when they had first met, but still her presence had a negative effect on Ronnie's emotions.

Ronnie refused to admit to herself that it was envy she felt.