Fiction: The Ghost Husband

This is the right place for what she wants to do. The restaurant is dimly lit with a certain hushed gloom. Sounds around them are muffled and people speak with a certain quietude. She looks across the table at the soft outline of her husband's large figure. He appears less solid, less present. It might have been the light or it might have been her eyes. She takes another bite of her eggplant lasagna.
    The two of them sit at table ten just like every year on their wedding anniversary. Today would have been their tenth year but she is not here to celebrate but to end a marriage.
    He notes his wife's increasing speed with her intakes of her food. It is a sign she is nervous about something. He looks down at his empty plate. How long has it been since he had a hot meal? He have no answer.
    She sweeps the last of her lasagna into her mouth. The thin line round her left corner of her lips curves as she tries to smile with her mouth full. Why is the food not as fulfilling as before? She puts down her fork and takes a sip of her coffee. The bitterness of the hot liquid gives her courage. "It's time, honey. We can't be together anymore," she says.
    He nods and veers his eyes toward the center of the table at the vase with one red rose. "Of course." He understands and yet, a part of him doesn't want to understand. Haven't they been happy?
    "Don't just say 'Of course'." She takes another sip of the coffee. "I am— I was happy with you but now I have to move on. Do you understand we must part for good?"
    He smiles. "Of course I do. I love you and you love another and it's perfectly understandable to dump me and go to him."
    "Honey! That's not what I'm saying. There is no he. As much as I love you, I just can't live this life anymore." She takes another sip of her coffee. She should have asked for decaf.
    Has he been mistaken? He has been certain when she sat down in front of him not a moment ago. But as he thinks about it, why is she dumping him if there is no other man? But then he recalls something she has said. I am an independent being and if I want to leave you, it's my right. Even if it means leaving him behind. But couldn't she wait a bit longer? He wants more time with her.   
    Why is he so casual, sitting there looking like she has just told him she is going to the store for a carton of milk? She must leave quickly before he can change her mind. She sips the last of her coffee and dabbles her mouth with her napkin and puts it down. "Whether you accept it or not, you and I will never be together ever again. Please remember, I will always love you but I have to move on." She waves at a waiter to her left. "May I have the check, please?" she says. The waiter comes by with a check holder and walks away. She pulls some bills from her purse and slips them between the holder. She stands up and picks up her coat from her chair and puts it on. Then she picks up her purse off the table. "For goodness sake! Just leave me alone!" she says and races away and out the door.
    Must he leave her? It isn't right for him to hold onto her but he hates leaving her. But this time he knows is final. There is something absolute about her words. He looks around at the happy couples sitting about and enjoying each other's company. He can't even remember ever being one of them. His eyes return to the table and at the rose. He swipes a hand toward it and it falls to its side sending water all over the table cloth.
    The waiter who has been collecting the plates jumps in fright but he puts the vase upright and hurries away with everything. Another waiter comes and drapes a clean cloth over the table. Then he places a new vase with a pink rose at the center of the table but the vase tumbles on its side sending water over the new cloth. The waiter dabbles the table cloth and removes it and the vase with the rose and rushes off.
    For about a year now, table ten has been known to be haunted. Many a time, cups, napkins and such has shifted or fell over for no apparent reason but no one is ever hurt. The waiters and waitresses usually tries to be quick if they have to serve that table.
    Outside, she inhales the cold air. She has a craving for a hot bowl of hot and sour noodle soup. She usually goes to the noodle shop when she is especially frustrated by something. In that small place, she finds comfort in complaining about her dead husband to the cranky chef while he create the dishes. He understands his customers' need to talk even if he gives no reply. She turns left and down the snow-covered sidewalks toward the Goodbye Noodle shop.

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