The Last Original Wife

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “Not that I know of, Wes. I’m sorry, but I’m really all done.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Wes? Wes?”

  I heard silence. Wes had disconnected me.

  “That son of a bitch,” I said.

  “I heard your every word,” Harlan said rushing in. “You sounded very nice, given the stress of the situation. But what did he say?”

  “It’s not what he said but what was unsaid. He never apologized or said that he loved me. Not once.” I felt so disgusted and abused.

  “He’s really a dope,” Harlan said.

  “Not exactly revelatory, Harlan. But why do you say that now?”

  “Because for a woman like you who devoted her entire life to him and your children, that’s about all he would have to say and there’s a fair chance he might have won you back. That he doesn’t know it makes him a huge dope.”

  I hated to admit it. Harlan was right. I might have gone home if Wes had only said he was sorry in the sober light of day and that he loved me. How pathetic was I?

  “You don’t understand, Harlan. Wes is never, ever wrong.”

  “Well, he sure is now,” Harlan said.

  “Yep,” I said and burst into tears.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry! What did I say?”

  “It’s just sad, Harlan. It’s not your fault. What you said is probably true. And it’s going to cost him an awful lot not to love me.”

  “It can’t cost him enough, if you ask me.”

  I smiled then. I smiled and thought how lucky I was to have Harlan and how lucky I was to have another chance to be happy.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I said, “and then let’s go out and paint the town.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

  While I showered, washing away the remnants of my conversation with Wes, I wondered how many married people were out there who hated each other but couldn’t afford to get a divorce. They simply couldn’t pay for two households. I’d bet there were more than a few. And would I really go back to Wes if he had said he was sorry and that he adored me? I decided it didn’t matter anymore. If I ever went back, all the same problems I had with our marriage that made it unbearable would still be there waiting. Wes would still be so cheap he squeaked, there would be no romance, and he would never look me in the face and really like what he saw. He’d never value my intellect, humor, or resourcefulness. No, I had made the right decision. I was completely certain of it.

  Over cocktails Harlan said, “Are you feeling better now?”

  I said, “Harlan, the reason I got upset this afternoon was not because I’m sorry I left Wes or because I’m still in love with him or anything like that. It was because it’s painful and embarrassing to realize how little affection I was willing to live with for all those years. I talk to him and it’s more than a little startling that he thinks that tossing me a crumb will be a life-changing event for him.”

  “Well, he’s going to regret losing you for the rest of his life.”

  “But he’ll never know why it happened, Harlan. That’s what bothers me about him. The crumbs bother me about myself.”

  “God, sister, you would’ve made the best psychoanalyst in the world.”

  “Thank you, brother, but I prefer to plan a trip to Italy.”

  “You know, Leslie? I have great admiration for you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re smart, you’re beautiful, and we know this but lately, I guess ever since you’ve made this momentous decision to redesign your life? Well, you seem like my kid sister again. And I’ve missed my kid sister something fierce. The one with the guts.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said. “Y’all better look out, world! She’s back.”

  “Good news for me! So tell me about tomorrow night.”

  “Danette is hosting the rehearsal party for Shawn’s family. I imagine Harold will be there, definitely without Cornelia, and I think Danette said that her friend Nader is coming. That should be very interesting. But it’s mostly out-of-town guests like us and the wedding party. So Charlotte will be there with Holly and I imagine Bertie too. I can only hope that Bertie will have washed.”

  “Hmmm. I never thought about it, but now I’m wondering how does one shampoo his dreadlocks?”

  “I have no earthly idea. He must’ve cleaned up his act somewhat because he had a job interview this week.”

  “Well, let’s hope it went all right.”

  We ate dinner at the hotel. I didn’t feel like getting the car out and dealing with any more traffic, and Harlan didn’t care where we ate. So we picked some appetizers from the bar menu and shared a bottle of wine.

  “What’s the dress code for tomorrow night?” Harlan asked.

  “I spoke to Danette earlier just to let her know we’re here. She’s pretty excited. Sport coats for the boys and something nice for the ladies.”

  “And for the wedding?”

  “Black tie. You brought your tuxedo, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. I hope you’re not wearing that black dress again,” he said.

  “Why not? It cost a fortune!”

  “Hello? So what? You’re rich, remember? Let’s go to Neiman’s first thing tomorrow and buy you an outfit that will make Wes lose his mind!”

  “Really? Oh, Harlan, who cares what he thinks?”

  “I haven’t given two hoots what Wes thought in a thousand years, but the part of you that wants to make him see the difference in you wants a new dress. And that’s that.”

  “You know what? You’re right!” I smiled, thinking I completely agreed.

  By ten thirty the next morning I was standing in front of a mirror in a dressing room at Neiman Marcus trying on every even remotely appropriate dress in the store. By noon we had narrowed it down to three. A flesh-colored dress with bronze metallic trim that made me look naked, or so I thought. An aqua silk dress with silver beading that made me look like a mermaid. And a red crepe dress with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neck that I thought showed too much cleavage but made me feel like a movie star. It had a tight waist and a full skirt and reminded me of a Doris Day movie from the sixties.

  “Les? I love the flesh-colored dress. It’s dazzling! Dazzling is good.”

  “I think it’s immoral,” I said.

  “Okay, then, how about the blue one? That color reminds me of the water around Bermuda. It’s beautiful with your hair.”

  “It makes me feel old, like a great-grandmother.”

  “But you don’t feel like a vamp in the red one?”

  “Yes, I do, and I think vamp is good.” I looked at the price tag and nearly gagged. “I need shoes too.”

  “Black suede?” said the salesperson. “What size?”

  “Eight medium,” I said.

  While we waited for the shoes, Harlan began to hum “Hard Hearted Hannah (the Vamp of Savannah).”

  “Put that red dress on again. I want to see it with the shoes.”

  “Okay. Shoo!”

  Harlan left the dressing room and I put it on. Was this going to turn heads? When was the last time I wore a red dress? When I was a girl? It was time. Time for red. I wondered if I could get someone to put my hair up in a French twist after the brunch tomorrow. Or maybe I’d just do it myself.

  The saleslady returned with several pairs of shoes and I chose the plainest ones, thinking I could always use a great pair of black suede pumps. And she had a large circular brooch for the shoulder of the dress that appeared to be made of rubies and diamonds. We pinned it on.

  “Okay, so what do you think?” I said. “I think it looks very real.”

  Harlan was sitting on a chair in the waiting area. He inhaled and when he exhaled, he whistled long and low. Then I twisted my hair up and held it.

  “The new you. It’s absolutely perfect. Wes is going to go into convulsions.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  Danette’s party was gorgeous and the weather was fine, although the
y were predicting rain. Impending storms brought the temperature down, which was a good thing, because the day had been a scorcher. Harlan and I got there a little late because of traffic and had to park way down the street. There was a small steel drum band playing and we heard the music long before we saw the first guest. The air was suffused with the smells of flowers and roasting meat, and there was laughter. Lots of it. Danette had outdone herself. Her back porch and garden were filled with young people laughing and talking and eating different foods all served on little bamboo skewers.

  “She’s going to be picking skewers out of the bushes for the next two years,” I said.

  “I think this looks like a really fun party,” Harlan said. “Wait! Is that Danette with the short hair?”

  “Yep, that’s her!”

  “She looks amazing! I’m going to say hello. Can I bring you a drink?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I said and scanned the crowd.

  I spotted Charlotte first and noticed that she was in fact with Dr. Chen. There seemed to be more than a passing familiarity between them and I wondered if she was sleeping with him. Then I told myself she was a grown woman and that was her own business, not mine. And Wes was standing by the bar with Harold and Paolo. They were drinking some amber-colored drink, which I assumed was alcoholic. They looked very somber. Well, I thought, they sure had plenty to commiserate about.

  And there, by the roasting pig turning on a spit and a long buffet spread of every kind of island food, was my Bertie, talking and laughing with Suzanne and Alicia. He had them charmed. They held their plates and ate like little birds. His dreadlocks were tied back with a leather string, but other than his weird hair, he looked rather nice in his chambray shirt and khakis. I praised all things holy that he was wearing shoes and not sandals. He must’ve taken a series of showers and soaks. Even my wild child still had some regard for decorum. And, as it turned out, one of the groomsmen had taken a nasty spill and broken his arm, so my Bertie, dreadlocks and all, was filling in for him. Danette said that Molly was delighted to have his hair in her wedding pictures, and I told Danette that this was yet another bloodcurdling indication that I was definitely getting extremely old.

  Molly and Shawn moved through the crowd, thanking everyone for coming. Molly looked radiant, which was a relief, because I couldn’t look Shawn in the face without thinking of Cornelia. It appeared that the Cornelia disaster was behind them and that they had decided to forgive, forget, and move on.

  Young love, I thought and sighed heavily.

  I spotted Holly at the end of the crowd, in the deepest recesses of Danette’s yard, wearing a beautiful dress with a bow in the back, running, playing some kind of a game with a little redheaded boy around her age. I assumed he was the ring bearer. They were so darling, a snapshot of childhood. I couldn’t wait for Harlan to get to know her.

  The lanterns overhead moved with the breeze, and it was a beautiful sight.

  “You look lost,” a male voice said. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Oh!” I was so involved in taking the scene all in that I was surprised.

  “Oh, I’m sorry! I startled you!”

  I’d never seen him before. He was younger than most of us but older than our children. He was very handsome, with a deep olive complexion and the most beautiful smile. And, let me tell you, he was spraying the yard with testosterone through every single pore in his body. I knew at once who he had to be.

  “Nader?”

  “Yes, I’m Nader Tavakoli, Danette’s friend. How did you know?”

  “I’m Leslie Carter. I’m so happy to meet you! It had to be you because Danette’s told me all about you.”

  “I hope all good?”

  “Only good,” I said and giggled like a fool. “But you are even more handsome than she described!” What was I saying? It sounded like I was flirting! “Not that she didn’t say you were . . . handsome, that is.”

  He laughed too. I liked him immediately.

  “Come, let’s get a drink,” he said and took my elbow.

  We walked toward the bar. Danette grabbed my arm and introduced me to Shawn’s parents and his sister and his old-maid aunts from Tennessee.

  “Why don’t I just bring you something?” Nader said.

  “Any kind of sparkling water would be great,” I said. “Thanks.”

  Shawn’s aunts were lovely. In typical Southern fashion, we chatted away about Shawn, stories from when he was a mere lad. And I threw in a few stories about Molly and how my children had grown up with her and the bridesmaids. Forgoing wine, I sipped my glass of sparkling water, in deference to the dress I had struggled to zip, and I ate only protein tidbits. They moved away to talk to someone else and there I stood. A target for Wes.

  I couldn’t avoid him so I spoke to him.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Nice party,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said. “It is. Danette did a beautiful job.”

  “Looks like she’s herself got a boyfriend, although he looks pretty young for her.”

  “I think he’s just right,” I said and looked at him.

  I was thinking he had some nerve to make a crack like that when he was in her home and on the receiving end of her hospitality.

  “Harold’s not too happy about him being here,” Wes said.

  “Tough noogies for Harold,” I said and smiled.

  “Oh, I get it. You’re saying what’s good for the gander is good for the goose?”

  “I’m saying nothing of the sort. I think Nader is a lovely gentleman and Harold might lighten up. He should be glad she’s found someone who makes her happy. Would he rather have an ex-wife who wanted to torture him for the rest of his life? God knows, she’s got grounds.”

  Wes looked at me, obviously surprised by my direct remark. “Really?” he said.

  “Yes, really. What’s the matter with you, Wes? Is your memory really that short or do you fellas get together and rewrite history?” I said and walked away.

  Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but he could not possibly have expected me to support Harold.

  The night went on, people eating and drinking and taking endless pictures of each other until the young people peeled off to go to a club. Holly, who was enthralled with her new uncle Harlan, climbed up in his lap and went to sleep. We were a small group then, Danette and Nader, who mingled; Harlan and I, who listened; Paolo, Wes, and Harold, who clustered and blustered; Charlotte and Dr. Harry Chen from Shanghai, who told wonderful stories about his family and their Chinese weddings.

  “So the grandmothers always have to outdo each other, and the aunties fight over everything else . . . food, music, who will design the flowers. All families are a little bit crazy,” he observed with a solemn face.

  “Oh, Harry,” Danette said. “You have no idea how true that is!”

  “Someday I’ll tell you stories,” Charlotte said.

  “It was a wonderful night,” I said to Danette. “Thank you.”

  She nodded her head in appreciation and agreement.

  “I’m so tired, but I’m so excited too. And golly, it’s just so good for all of us to be together for this.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is! And I’m excited too,” I said. “Come on, Harlan. Big day tomorrow.”

  “Righto! Why don’t I go get the car so you don’t have to walk on the road in the dark?”

  “That’s sweet! Thanks! The key’s in my bag over there.”

  Charlotte gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, “See you tomorrow, Mom. I’ve got to get this little flower girl to bed.”

  Charlotte seemed different then, as though having Holly and treating her with lots of motherly attention made her more attractive to Harry Chen. I hoped I was right.

  “See you, honey. Y’all be careful going home, okay?”

  Harry Chen smiled and said, “Don’t worry! If anything happens, at least she’s with a doctor!”

  I smiled at them.

  “Got ’em!” Harlan said; he tos
sed the keys in the air, caught them, and left with Charlotte and Harry.

  “He’s so great,” Danette said.

  “Yeah, he really is; he’s a wonderful brother. Hey, if I can do anything for you tomorrow, I’m here, okay?”

  “Oh, please! You’re giving the brunch and that’s enough. It’s a pretty small wedding so I’m hoping it will go off without any major calamities.”

  “I’m sure it will be perfect.”

  I was reasonably confident that it would be perfection. After all, Molly was Danette’s only child.

  Our brunch was lovely. People came and went because hair appointments and so forth interfered slightly with our timing, but I had figured it might be that way. It was more like an open house than a seated meal. And actually the casual atmosphere put everyone at ease. After several hours of mimosas and Bloody Marys, omelets and salads, our guests began to leave, thanking me, saying it was so nice of us to provide such a lovely meal and that they were excited to see what the rest of the day would bring. The ceremony was at six.

  Harlan looked at his watch. It was almost three.

  “Wow,” he said, “that was easy.”

  “Yes, it was. I just paid the bill with Wes’s credit card. He’s going to have a cow when the statement comes at the end of the month.”

  “No, he won’t. He’s terrified right now.”

  “Really? How do you know that?”

  “Because I could see it in his face last night. He was looking around at Paolo and Harold, and it was as clear as anything that he doesn’t want to wind up like them.”

  “Our marriage was nothing like theirs,” I said. “Tessa died and Harold ran around.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Wes doesn’t want to die alone.”

  “Who does?” I said.

  CHAPTER 25

  Wes—The Wedding

  Everybody has their own point of view about things. Last night at Danette’s party, and I would never say this in a thousand years, I thought Harold was pathetic. There he was looking like a fool to everybody who knew the story on Cornelia. Everything about him said he was the classic lonely guy—his slouched posture, his pained expression. And I’d never admit this to Les, but she was right. Harold had no business to even entertain the idea that he was calling the shots in Danette’s future. He should’ve put on a happy face and slapped Nader on the back and told him thanks and good luck or something. But what did he do? He sulked. It made him look juvenile. Worse than that? I knew, because he told me, that he was still seeing Cornelia on the side.