What is Love? Read Online Free PDF

She carefully spread
them out over his bed.
    As she sorted
through the pile, every picture tore away little pieces of her heart, reminding
her of the happiness they once shared. It hurt every time she tried to think of
life without him. He was the only man in the entire collection of photos. The
only man she ever loved. How could she live without him? She had not dated
anyone before Jonathan. What did she know of men? And who would she be without
him? Their lives had blended for so long, was there an Ellen without a
Jonathan?
    What if he did
leave? She stared at the pile of memories. Would these albums be filled with
pain and heartache? Would she ever be able to look with pleasure at the past?
Or would it be permanently ruined, eternally reminding her of what she had
lost, what she once had? And forever after, every time she looked on these
photos, would she experience the pain of never being able to recapture the
happiness they once shared?
    Even worse, would
she eventually cut him out of all the photos, as other angry women have done,
in a desperate attempt to enjoy viewing them again? Amputate him from every
scene; erase him from the past forty years, as if he never existed. Would she
erase the hurt and pain with the quick cut of a sharp pair of scissors, as if
the stories spoken within each photo could somehow be retold without him
present?
    The irony of it was,
if he died, all these photographs would be savored  … cherished as an eternal tribute. No cutting or clipping.
No damage inflicted. A collection of their love, a lifetime of their happiness,
frozen and preserved forever. Immortalized. If he died. Yet, if he divorced
her, the damage would be irreparable, the pictures forever ruined, forever
tainted. Toxic reminders. Why so different?
    Ellen looked at each
memory of their life together and realized how much she needed to be his wife.
She would always love him. She could never cut him out of the photographs. He
had to stay. He was an essential part of her. Remaining his wife took
precedence over everything else in her life and she would do anything to keep
him; if only she knew how.
    On Sunday afternoon,
the phone rang. It had been ringing all day Saturday, mostly because of her
canceled luncheon, but had been, today, oddly silent. With every ring, Ellen
prayed that Jonathan had finally come to his senses. Her housekeeping staff,
Carlos and Maria, had strict orders to take messages unless it was him, or an
emergency. When Ellen heard Carlos’s footsteps on the stairs, her heart beat
fast.
    “Mrs. Wentworth is
here,” Carlos announced through the closed door. “Shall I—”
    “I’ll be right
down,” Ellen said, then imagined the staff overhearing them. “Wait,” she called
through the door. “Carlos, send her up here, to my bedroom.”
    Ellen stood and
smoothed the bedspread, then pushed the piles of photographs and albums into
the center. She plumped the pillows, arranging them against the headboard.
    She had first met
Patty twenty years before, when Jonathan became a member of the business
committee at the Met. Patty had been a member for several years and took it
upon herself to initiate him. Through that successful partnership, Ellen also
found a close friend. It helped that her husband Phil and Jonathan got along
and liked the same music, Cuban cigars and single malt scotch.
    Ellen knew Patty had
been vaguely aware of Jonathan’s recent indiscretions, but there were still
dark secrets Ellen would never reveal. In society, Ellen understood a friend
can only be so close since the potential for backstabbing was always hovering
in the background. Women gossip and hurt one another at the best of times, but
when money and power are involved, nothing is off-limits.
    Ellen put all the
tissues into a wastebasket beside the nightstand and was about to head to her
room to meet Patty.
    “Knock, knock,”
Patty said, opening the door and poking her head inside.
    “Come in,” Ellen
answered, wishing Carlos had