MY SECRET LOVE

by Penelope Friday 

It seems I'm going to have to change to deserve you. Already I've given up smoking because you dislike it more than anything; and people that know you better than I do insist that you think it important in a woman that she has a healthy diet. As a consequence, I found myself the other day looking suspiciously at the last kiwi in the fruit bowl: brown, hairy and unavoidably unappealing. Edible? Inedible? Poisonous? "Edible," said my husband Richard firmly, glad to nurture any signs of healthy eating in one whom he had presumed destined to a lifetime of chocolate and crisps.
     Poor Richard. He doesn't understand what's happening, though he can't help but notice that I'm changing. Under your influence, I'm a different woman in so many ways, and it must be obvious to him. I keep swearing to myself that I won't let our marriage be affected by the incredible relationship that you and I share. I love him too, you know -- dearly. And I think you will too, when you meet him. You won't be able to help yourself: everyone does. And I hope so much that you -- you particularly -- feel the same. Is it wrong of me to want the two people I love more than any others in the world to like each other? I can't -- no, I really can't -- think that it is.     NEXT