TheTen Cow Wife First for my husband,
from memoir, A Dot In Time then for my granddaughters.
by Marggie Rassler
New
Haven, Conn. 1963
She kneels by the window. Below, snow blankets the
street. Not too far from her the family sleeps. The thirteen year old pulls the
flannel gown up and wipes the tears. She stares at the figure on the
mural painted on the church across the
street. The events of the day cling to her mind.
"He likes You better
than me." The tears roll. "Not
fair. You got enough."
She remembers the looks he
gave her in class. The blue eyes that turned on the heat upon her face. "I
thought ... he liked me." She
covers her mouth to muffle the sound of her cries. The boy's words in the
school yard haunt her. "Amarilys, I'm going to be a priest."
She glares at the figure
across the street. "Ok. So send me someone else. Someone that will ...
love me."
Tampa, Florida, 1980's
The young woman stirs her
coffee fast. There's a hill of crumpled tissues next to her pocketbook on the
table. The restaurant is busy, but people eat their lunch inside the orbit of
their own planets. I finish mine and focus once again on the young lady across
from me.
She drops her arm on the
table, her bracelets bang. "But how can I leave him?" She shakes her head. One long black curl covers
her eye. Her hand, like a paddle, rows it away.
"He's all I got,"
she says.
I move my dish out of the
way and pray for wisdom to know what to say. It's the third time I meet with
this college student from our church. Someone gave her my number and she asked
for my help. The first time she informed me, "I'm the daughter of a
Marine. He met and married my mother in Nam. I'm a combo of both. Stubborn like
my Mom, obstinate like my Dad. Good luck counseling me." I had no trouble loving her right away. Her
countenance often transforms into the mirror reflecting a well-known face from
my past. I lean back against my seat.
"Maritza, you told me
before he throws shoes at you when he's mad. And he's been unfaithful at least
twice."
"But we're engaged."
"My grandmother often said to me, 'It's
better to be alone than badly accompanied.' Last time you showed me bruises on
your arm...."
She
reached for more tissues and wiped her face. "Men are rotten. I hate them."
I reached her hand and gave
it a squeeze. "Let me tell you a story someone told me."
She leaned back and crossed
her arms.
"There was once a
young woman that lived in, let's say, Viet Nam." I saw her grin.
"She was very shy and
thought herself plain. Nobody in the village found her attractive, let alone
asked for her in marriage. No one wanted to offer the dowry required. Cows. The
custom followed by the village was that the more cows offered the prettier and
more desirable the bride. Five to six cows were top. But, for this girl ... not
even an offer of one. Then, one day,
a handsome fellow came calling. He spoke to the girl's father. 'I want your
daughter's hand in marriage, sir.' In shock, the father could hardly speak.
Who would be so foolish as to want the homely girl. 'And, what would you offer
for her young man? '" I kept my eyes on Maritza. She was biting her nails.
I paused.
"Mrs. Rassler, don't
stop."
"Ok, Maritza. The
handsome fellow took the father outside and showed him his large caravan and a
row of cows among it all. 'Ten cows, sir. For your daughter's hand, ten
cows.'" Maritza's eyes sparkled. She reached for another tissue.
"Mrs. Rassler please, finish the story." I took a sip of my water and
continued.
"They married and went
away to live in the young man's village. A year later the fellow came back with his wife. The village
gathered to greet them. Many gasped, some whispered words of unbelief. They saw
a beautiful, striking woman aglow, with dancing eyes, decked in silk and
covered in gold. The girl nobody wanted. Astounded, the father ran to ask his daughter how she changed. And this was her
reply. 'A man loved me and saw me as a ten cow wife and because
of his love that's what I became.'"
Maritza eyes stay fixed on
mine. "Maritza, don't you want to wait for that kind of guy?"
"They don't exist Mrs. Rassler. I
don't know ..."
"Yes, they do Maritza.
It all can start with a prayer. A little girl once prayed a prayer a long time
ago and it was heard."
"Who?"
"Me, Maritza. I'm a ten cow wife."
