Just My Luck: Margery Pittersmith

Just My Luck: A Series of Unfortunate Ends

Mrs. Pittersmith married young to a third generation lawyer in the American south. Mr. Pittersmith was made partner in his family law firm by age 27, at which point Margery had already had three of what would be a brood of seven children. Her lawyer husband's money allowed for the live-in assistance of two nannies, two housemaids, a cook, and a groundskeeper. This hefty staff might have alleviated some strain on Margery's housewife existence, if not for the regular public appearances, high status dinners and various charitable functions that she was expected to attend with Mr. Pittersmith. Being pillars of the community was something of a Pittersmith family tradition.

As all mothers do, Mrs. Pittersmith did love her children. She was always grateful to have had nannies and staff to help raise them, and was proud of each of them in their various accomplishments. In her heart of hearts, however, Margery spent the better part of her adult married life wishing she could just have some time to herself. Some peace and quiet, a long bubble bath, maybe even time enough to read a book. But when it wasn't the children demanding her energy, it was her husband's social standing and political ambitions stealing her away to the next obligation.

When Margery reached the age of 58, all of the children being out of the home and onto their own lives of ambition, Mr. Pittersmith informed his faithful wife of 40 years that he had been having an affair with his secretary for roughly half of those four decades. He did not wish to cause any scandal or damage the reputation of his family name, so he thought it would be best that they go their separate ways quietly. He agreed to a healthy monthly alimony payment and had, in fact, already procured a lavish apartment in the city for Margery to move into, which he would also continue to pay for in exchange for her discretion regarding the divorce.

Plenty of women in Margery's position might feel jilted, furious and even rather depressed. Margery, if she were being perfectly honest, was actually rather relieved. Having spent most of her life feeling exhausted and put upon, she packed her things happily, imagining all of the things she would now have time and space to herself to do. Folding clothes into suitcases and boxing up photos, she daydreamed about new hobbies she might now be able to take up. Sewing, knitting, painting...and she could fill her shelves with books to read!

Margery did not cry as the chauffeur helped her into the car and closed the door. She did not look back as the car drove her away from the home she had known for 40 years. She breathed deep and smiled. Once they reached the city, Margery had an ingenious thought, and asked the driver to stop somewhere for her to pick up some oysters, wine and cigarettes. Mrs. Pittersmith was going to celebrate her new found freedom properly.

Once the driver had delivered Margery and her possessions to her new apartment, which was furnished nicely and had a lovely soaking tub in the bathroom, Margery set out the kitchen counter for her solo celebratory dinner. She lit herself some candles, poured a glass of wine, and had a few puffs of a quite cigarette. Finally alone. Finally some peace.

Margery was used to having a cook prepare her oysters, and wasn't familiar or skilled in cracking them open. It took some doing, and she broke a few shells, but she managed to halve them all as best she could. She cut up a few lemons, doused the little sea creatures in the citrus juice, and triumphantly slurped down her first oyster as a single, free woman. She had not noticed the broken bit of shell her inexperienced cracking had left atop the squishy bit of mollusc - until she began to choke on it.

Slapping her throat and attempting to cough up the jagged shard of shell, Margery began to panic. She went for the wine to take a drink but knocked the glass clean off the counter and heard it smash on the floor. She tried to call out for help, but her air passage was impenetrably blocked, and no sound would issue. Alone in her apartment, eventually collapsed to the floor. As the finality of her fate dawned upon her oxygen denied brain, Mrs. Margery Pittersmith's last thought was, "Well isn't this just my luck."