A piece of short fiction inspired by the trials of Oscar Wilde.October 21, 2015
My Husband’s Trial
This wait is excruciating.
I am not allowed to go to the courtroom and witness my husband’s fate, so the best I can do is walk around the house in frenzied thoughts and pretend to look busy.
It doesn’t help, as it never does, and my mind wanders back to the thought that has plagued me for the past few months.
I don’t know if I should believe the accusations brought upon him myself.
Oscar has always been so caring, so nurturing with our children, that the thought of it all being a lie and that other men might be seeing a better, more loving side of my husband almost brings me to madness.
He does spend a lot of time away, entertaining his friends, he says, but he is always here for when it matters.
Even if he loves someone else more, he still also loves us, so I guess that will have to be enough.
The day’s papers taunt me from the living room table, but I refuse to read them. With so many murderers and criminals filling our streets, it’s ridiculous that what my husband decides to write about and who he spends his time with would receive even an inch of recognition in the news, let alone a series of front pages.
It’s the last day of the trial now, and everyone’s focus is on this.
Beneath the jumble of paper I see a small envelope, addressed from Paris.
Lord Alfred Douglas.
The hours pass, and I play with the children to keep me busy. Every tick of the clock I wait for someone to come to my door and give me the news.
As if I summoned it, a knock echoes through the house. Behind that door lies not only Oscar’s fate, but all of ours.
This is it.
Sofia Matias is a student at Edinburgh Napier University. This piece was inspired by the trials of Oscar Wilde.