“Don’t Change Your Husband”

April 1918, Pittsburgh, PA

The sweet smell of cake and meatloaf wafted through the kitchen on what would be the Miekley family’s last day of normalcy. Minnie stood with her hands on her hips, admiring her German Black Forest Cake sagging under the heavy topping of cherries and whipped cream. She laughed at herself good naturedly for trying and failing, as wonted, to be the perfect housewife. With all the laundry and tidying she had yet to finish, a sheet cake would have done, but her husband had been so disagreeable lately, she was hoping the effort would please him. She pushed the worry out of her mind and began to set the table. Ernest would be home any minute and he demanded that she be punctual.

She lifted the baby off the floor that was sprinkled with sifted flour, and wiggled his chubby legs into the wooden highchair. She took a quick swig from the glass milk bottle that was cooling atop the icebox to ensure it was neither too hot nor too cold, then plunked it in front of the child.

His small hands grasped the glass bottle of milk and he clumsily pulled the nipple to his lips.

“Drink up, little man,” she said playfully, in a pleasant, high-pitched voice.

Robbie toddled into the kitchen, humming the happy birthday song. The navy-blue sailor suit he was wearing for the party set off his dark hair and long-lashed eyes.

On his heels followed 6-year-old Linny, dressed in her favorite pink gingham dress. Her light brown hair and buttermilk skin resembled that of her mother.

The oldest two came racing down the stairs, their mouths watering from the homey smells.

“I won!” shouted Ernie, grabbing the ties on his sister’s green, taffeta dress and squeezing past her and into the kitchen.

“Not fair and square, you didn’t!” Florence shot back, laughing as she beat him to a chair.

A small pile of gifts, clumsily wrapped in newspaper funnies, were waiting at the head of the table.

The front door opened and the children grew quiet.

“Happy Birthday, Papa!” Florence called out, standing up while keeping a respectful distance. Her father was frowning at an envelope in his hands and did not even glance her way.

Minnie untied her apron, threw it on the back of a chair, and approached her husband with a cheerful smile to welcome him home for the day.  As she leaned toward him, she peered at the handwriting and glimpsed the “Pocatello, ID” postmark. Her heart skipped a beat.

No! This cannot be happening! Her pulse began to thump.

She had been so preoccupied with baking the cake, she had forgotten to check the letter box! She reached out and tried to snatch the letter, but her husband abruptly spun around and tore it open at the seam. Minnie circled him and lunged again. Too late, he had already begun to read.

“My Minnie Delight,” he began in his heavy guttural accent. Minnie knew, without seeing it for herself, there were hearts instead of dots above each “i” in her name.

Taken aback, Ernest flipped the page over to see who had signed it.

Minnie did not move a muscle as her husband’s eyes widened and his brows furrowed deeply.

He glanced up at her darkly for a moment before flipping it back over to the first side, this time reading silently. With each sentence, his face turned redder, and his breath became more shallow. When he reached the end of the first page, his hands were trembling with rage. He turned the letter over and continued to read, pressing his lips so tightly together, the skin near his mouth turned white. Minnie nervously watched his cheek as he fiercely worked his jaw. By the end, his eyes were hateful slits.

“Was ist das Schmutz?!”[1] he nearly skreiched, as he shook the letter in his fist.

Minnie looked up at her spouse with an expression of sweet innocence.

“I do not know what you are talking about, Ernest. Who is it from?” Minnie sounded believably befuddled as she reached again for the letter.

He held it tightly above her head.

“Lügnerin!”[2] he shouted. Spittle flew from his lips and sprayed into her face. “I told you, kein Sehen, kein Sprechen, kein Schreiben!”[3]

He jammed his finger at one of the lines and began to read it aloud.

---

[1] “What is this filth?”

[2] “Liar!”

[3] “no seeing, no speaking, no writing!”