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“Why would we do that?” he asked. His hand reached for my belly. “With the baby coming.”
“Your kids are grown and away at school. Babies don’t need this much space. It would be good to downsize.”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Everyone wants to live here. It’s quite pricey, you know.”
My husband doesn’t use words like pricey. I realized he was patronizing me.
I’d come up with a solution. In the meantime, I let it be. I cross my arms and remind myself I have secured a position in what most people would consider paradise. Never mind that I had to bargain with the devil. I have arrived. I am here.
“Remember Beth is coming by tomorrow,” Tom reminds me as I stand at the sink applying mascara. It’s Thursday, and in Tom’s world, Thursday evenings are reserved for dinner club. Each week a different member of New Hope’s leadership team hosts in their home. Not exactly how I want to spend my night but I guess it beats sitting around here watching Tom work. “She’ll be here at 10:00 a.m.”
“That should be fun,” I say, eyeing him sideways. He’s staring at the makeup bottles and tubes splayed out on the counter. He picks them up one by one and moves them back to my side.
“Did you really need all of this? I didn’t think you wore that much makeup.”
“Yes,” I assure him. Best to keep it short and sweet, I’m learning, and then to change the subject, I say, “What if I have plans tomorrow?”
“I checked your calendar.”
“You know I don’t use that thing.” I point to my head and tap my temple. “I keep everything up here.”
I watch as he picks up the towel I’ve discarded on the floor and sets it back in its rightful place. “I thought you said you suffered from OCD.”
I shrug, taking him in slowly. Meticulously. He looks good for almost fifty.
“You know for forty-eight…” I say, making sure he sees that I’m giving him the once-over. “You’re surprisingly fit for someone nearly eligible for AARP.”
He’s changing out of the suit he wore to work into something only slightly less formal. He mumbles something that sounds like that’s nice, but I don’t think he’s even listening to me. I could go on, but I can see he isn’t in the mood to chat, so I stare at his abs instead. He may be twice my age, and while he’s not quite youthful, he’s not exactly grandpa material either. Daddy issues, they say. Something about that makes me want to reach out and place my hands on his wide shoulders. I want to look into his eyes and say something that’ll make him pay attention. I want to feel his narrow hips digging into me. I want to feel something. All in time.
Instead, I slide up next to him and pout. “I don’t think Beth likes me,” I whine. We’ve only met a few times, briefly. Mostly, I want to find out if she’ll be there tonight.
He fake smiles and answers my question. “You’ll have a chance to show her your charm tomorrow. At 10:00 a.m.”
I hold up my latest online purchase. “How’s this dress?”
“Fine.” He can’t be bothered to look. He’s too busy putting the cap back on the toothpaste and fuming inside about my incompetence. Tom likes to use that word when people don’t perform in the way he expects. He nods. “Would you mind?”
“Sorry,” I shrug. We’re learning so much about each other. That’s what happens with a shotgun wedding. Me, I’m shocked. I had no idea a person could be this clean or this boring. Not to mention this cheap. The dress I’m wearing tonight cost me my whole allowance that isn’t an allowance but is instead a “budget.” I don’t want to start a fight so I keep this bit to myself.
“Can’t I have Josie back?”
He turns and whe
n he does he finally notices the dress. By the way he studies my face, I think he only sees dollar signs. “Josie left the church.”
I know this, of course. But I like to hear him say it. Also, it takes the attention off of my perceived inadequacies. My husband is charming. He thinks I don’t know what he’s thinking. But Tom isn’t good at hiding what few emotions he has. I can see that he’s wondering why I’m bringing this up, why now. Josie was my sponsor until Josie’s husband was shot dead by his mistress, and Josie could no longer stomach the church. I have to admit, at first I thought this whole thing with ‘the church’ was a bit over the top. More and more though, I’m finding it’s good entertainment. The only entertainment around here, to tell the truth.
On the bright side, I get to go to parties. Like tonight, even if it is just dinner club. I’m not worried; I’ll liven things up. I get nice clothes even if it means spending my whole allowance. Even if they’re meant to impress people I have no interest in impressing, my husband is right—I should probably be a little more grateful. I’m working on it. It isn’t easy all this make-believe. I was supposed to marry up. But I took what I could get, I had short notice after all.
Thankfully, with any luck, there’s a vacation in my future. I know because that’s all the other wives seem to drone on about. Well, this and yoga and pilates, and oh yeah, let’s not forget about brunch. I’m twenty-two years old. My body doesn’t need these things like theirs do. To me, brunch is just another meal. It’s not a luxury. And vacations aren’t vacations, they’re a way of life. These women, they’re all so bogged down with fake responsibility, and children, things they put upon themselves, that they can’t see it my way. So, in time, I have to learn to love the things they love. And in the meantime, so what if there are a few “rules” I’m supposed to put up with. Big deal.
I can always find a workaround.
It’s better than getting a job.
It’s better than being homeless.
“I just can’t understand why anyone would leave New Hope,” I say.
