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"Tell that to Grandma Moses. " Meghann reached into her handbag and pulled out a small notepad with a pen stuck in the spiral column. She flipped the pad open and wrote something down, then ripped off the piece of paper and handed it to Elizabeth.
The note said: WOMEN'S PASSION SUPPORT GROUP. THURSDAY, 7:00/ ASTORIA COMMUNITY COLLEGE.
"I've been waiting almost a year for the right time to recommend this to you. "
"It sounds like a meeting of porn stars. What do they talk about? How to keep your lipstick on during a blow job?"
"Funny. Maybe you should try stand-up. And God knows a blow job has saved more than one marriage. "
"Meg, I--"
"Listen to me, Birdie. I have a lot of clients in Grays County, and I send them to this meeting. It's a group of women--mostly newly divorced--who get together to talk. They've all given up too much of themselves, and they're trying to find a way back. "
Elizabeth stared down at the note. She knew that Meg was waiting for her to say something, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. It was one thing to get drunk and complain about her unhappiness to a best friend; it was quite another to walk into a room full of strange women and declare that she had no passion in her life.
She hoped her smile didn't look as brittle as it felt. "Thanks, Meg. " Still smiling, she flagged down the waitress and ordered another martini.
Echo Beach, Oregon
The bedside clock dropped one blocky, red number after another into the darkness. At 6:30--a full thirty minutes early--Jack reached over and disabled the alarm.
He lay there, staring at the slats of light sneaking through the louvered blinds. The bedroom was striped in bands of black and white; the horizons of darkness made everything look strangely unfamiliar. He could make out the barest hint of rain falling outside. Another gray, overcast day. Normal early December weather on the Oregon coast.
Elizabeth was asleep beside him, her silvery blond hair fanned across the white pillowcase. He could hear the soft, even strains of her breathing, the occasional muffled snore that meant she would probably wake up with a cold. She'd probably caught a bug last week when she'd gone to Seattle.
In the earlier days of their marriage, they had always slept nestled together, but somewhere along the way, they'd started needing space between them. Lately, she'd begun sleeping along the mattress's very edge.
But today, things were going to get better. Finally, at forty-six, he was going to get another chance. A Seattle production company was starting a weekly sports program that would cover the highlights of northwest sports; it had been picked up by the NBC affiliate. If he got the anchor job, he'd have to commute three days a week, but with the extra money, that wouldn't be such a hardship. It was a hell of a step up from the pissant local coverage he'd been doing.
(Not where he should be, of course, not where he belonged, but sometimes one mistake could ruin a man. )
Hed be someone again.
For the last fifteen years, hed worked his ass off, making progress in steps too small to be seen by the human eye. In a series of shitty little towns, hed paid for his mistakes. Today, finally, he had a decent opportunity, a chance to get back into the game. There was no way in hell he was going to drop the ball.
He got out of bed and immediately winced in pain. This damp climate played hell with his knees. Grimacing, he limped toward the bathroom. As usual, he had to walk over fabric samples and paint chips and open magazines. Birdie had been "redoing" their bedroom for months now, planning every move as if she were the defensive coordinator in a Super Bowl game. It was the same story in the dining room. Stuff heaped in every corner, waiting for that rarest of moments: his wife actually making a decision.
He had already showered and shaved when Elizabeth stumbled into the room, tightening the thick cotton belt on her bathrobe.
"Morning," she said with a yawn. "God, I feel like crap. I think Im getting a cold. Youre up early. "
He felt a flash of disappointment that shed forgotten. "Todays the day, Birdie. Im driving up to Seattle for that interview. "
A tiny frown tugged at her brow; then she obviously remembered. "Oh, yeah. Im sure youll get the job. "
In the old days, Birdie would have pumped up his ego, assured him that it would all work out in the end, that he was destined for greatness. But shed grown tired in the past few years; they both had. And hed failed to land so many jobs over the years, no wonder shed stopped believing in him.
Hed tried like hell to pretend he was happy here in Oregon, that all he wanted out of life was to be the noon sports anchor, covering mostly high-school sports in a midsized market. But Birdie knew he merely tolerated living in this nothing town on the edge of a barely-there city. He even hated being a mid-level celebrity. All it served to do was remind him of who he used to be.
She gave him a perfunctory smile. "More money will be great, especially with the girls in college. "
"You can say that again. "
Then she looked up at him. "Will the job make everything better, Jack?"
Her question sucked the air from his lungs. God, he was tired of this discussion. Her endless quest for the answer to whats wrong with our lives was exhausting. Years ago, hed tried to tell her that all her happiness shouldnt depend on him. Hed watched as shed given up more and more of herself. He couldnt stop it, or didnt stop it, but somehow it had become all his fault. He was sick to death of it. "Not today, Elizabeth. "
She gave him the sudden, hurt look that hed come to expect. "Of course. I know its a big day for you. "
