When they leave the room in search of food, Nessa is disappointed that a different person is at the desk this time, a man with heavy eyelids and a gold crucifix hanging from his neck. His name tag says Chris.
“What would you recommend for dinner around here?” Lorraine asks him, and Nessa is aware of the hint of flirtation in Lorraine’s question, the way her voice raises a touch in pitch.
Chris wheezes and thuds his chest with his palm. “On Main Street you have lots of options. Bennington Pizza House—a real crowd-pleaser. Let’s see. Madison Brewing Company—good burgers, good beer. There’s Lucky Dragon if you like Chinese. A fish fry place. We keep a whole list of restaurants over there, if you want to take a look.” He points to a small wooden table with a black binder and a pile of take-out menus.
Lorraine nods. “Wonderful.”
“Just take a right out of the lot,” he goes on. “Straight down Main Street.”
“Where to, ladies?” Lorraine asks when they’re in the car.
Tanya makes a sound of distaste from the backseat. “None of it sounds especially appealing.”
“I’d do the burger place,” Nessa says.
“Tee?”
Tanya plunks her feet on the console. “Whatever you guys want.”
The restaurant is on Main Street nestled between Bennington Pizza House and a clothing shop. The storefront’s painted green with big windows looking into the dimly lit pub, all wood and brick.
Inside there’s dozens of empty tables and a bar. They’re greeted by the hostess and led to a table by the window. Other than the employees, they’re the only people there.
A waiter comes by with the menus, a teenage boy, his face and neck studded with infected acne. “Welcome to Madison Brewing Company,” he says, pouring them water and avoiding eye contact.
Quietly they look through the menus. After a minute Tanya puts hers down. “I can’t eat any of this.”
“Why not?” Lorraine asks.
“Everything is fried or drenched in cheese,” she says. “It’s fine. I’ll just get something from the supermarket after you guys are done.”
Nessa’s jaw tightens, agitated. She doesn’t know why her sister always feels the need to put them down; to equate the oil, the cheese, with something about them. Nessa no longer eats the way she did as a child. Not that the hunger has gone away, but she’s figured out other ways to curb it. She’s not as thin as Tanya, who pays seventy dollars a month so that she can run herself ragged on a battered New York Sports Club treadmill every morning. But Nessa likes her body. Not every day, and not in every mirror. But overall. It’s usually when she’s next to Tanya that she’s tempted to stuff herself again.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Lorraine asks Tanya.
“Did you hear his list of restaurants?”
“What about the fish place?”
Tanya rolls her eyes.
“Well, if there’s nothing you can eat here it doesn’t make sense to stay,” Lorraine says. “You must be hungry. What if you got the eggplant dish?”
“It’s fried,” Tanya says. “It’s fine. I’m not even that hungry.”
“Oil isn’t going to kill you, Tanya,” Nessa says.
Tanya lets out a short laugh. “Actually, that’s exactly what it will do.”
“Well, don’t ruin it for us,” Nessa says.
Tanya holds up her hands. “I’ll shut up.”
The waiter returns. “Are you ready to order?” he asks, and when no one says anything Nessa nods. “Go ahead, Mom.”
Lorraine squints at the back side of the menu. “I’m wondering,” she says, pointing, “if it’s possible to get the eggplant provençal but without frying the eggplant?”
“Um. Like, just a plain eggplant?”
“Well, a little oil’s okay,” she says. “Just, you know, not deep fried?”
“Um.” He scratches at his pad. “Okay. I’ll ask them.” Then he turns to Tanya, and Nessa sees the way her sister’s prettiness and forthright gaze catch him off guard. “What would you like, miss?” he stammers. Under the violent red of his acne, his cheeks burn even brighter.
Tanya smiles coolly. “I’m set with water, thanks.”
“Oh, okay.” He begins to write it down before remembering they already have water glasses in front of them. He turns to Nessa next, visibly relieved, and his face resumes its normal color. “And you?” he asks. Hurt tugs at Nessa’s chest, followed swiftly by humiliation. How pathetic she is, to feel rejected by a fifteen-year-old waiter.
“I’ll have the pulled pork sandwich,” Nessa says, just to piss off Tanya. “And an appetizer of truffle fries for the table.”
A tense minute passes after the server leaves. Then Tanya speaks: “So we should talk about Monday.”
Lorraine sighs. “I guess we should.”
“I don’t see any reason why you won’t get the restraining order if you tell the judge about the strangulation,” Tanya says. “Jesse, I’m assuming, will show up to the hearing, and he’ll have a chance to speak, but I’m not really worried about that. But, Mom, I do think you have to mention the physical abuse. And that you have documentation that you went to the hospital. I know it’s hard to talk about, but the judge needs to know the full story, and that’s a crucial part of the story.”
“Tanya,” Nessa says. “Why don’t you let Mom decide what is crucial to the story. It is her story, after all.”
“Are you pissed at me for some reason?” Tanya says, turning to Nessa. “For not ordering something?”
“I just think you’re being a little condescending.”
“Girls, come on.” Lorraine leans back in her chair.
“Mom, the big question now is where you’re going to live,” Tanya says. “You don’t have to move out of the house for another month or so, right? I’m sure you’ll have enough time before then to find an apartment or at least something short-term until you figure out your next steps. And if you need to, you can always come and stay with Eitan and me in the city.”
“Or me,” Nessa says. “You can stay with me, too.”
Lorraine takes a sip of water and glances toward the kitchen. “I do have a little thing here called a job.”
“You can work it out with Selma,” says Tanya. “Given the situation, I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“It’s not the kind of situation I’m very keen on sharing,” she says. “Oh, look, Ness, here come your fries.”
“Our fries,” Nessa says. “They’re for the table. Especially Tanya.”
“Let’s talk about this later, after dinner,” Lorraine says. “I just want to enjoy a meal without thinking about all this crap.”
“It’s the day after tomorrow, Mom,” Tanya says. “There’s not that much time to push it off until later.”
Lorraine transports a handful of fries onto her plate. “Don’t these look good,” she says, though she doesn’t eat any.
Nessa pops one into her mouth, burning her tongue, and lets it drop from her mouth back onto the plate. “Hot.”
Tanya has her phone out and is texting.
The waiter comes by. “How are the fries?” he asks.
“Great,” Nessa says. He nods and scurries away.
“What are you doing on there?” Nessa asks then, nodding at her sister’s phone. “It’s kind of rude.”
Tanya looks pointedly at her. “I’m arranging with work to take Monday off so I can go to court with Mom. And I’m letting Eitan know that I’ll be home by the evening and I’m asking him to cancel my hair appointment Monday night.”
“Honey, you should go to your appointment,” Lorraine says. “I’ll be okay in court. Don’t worry about me.”
Tanya looks up, her eyes blazing. “I do worry about you,” she says. “I come home and you’ve lost fifteen pounds and in the middle of the night
you’re strangled in our own kitchen.” She looks at Nessa. “And you two are acting like nothing is wrong. We’re not on a vacation right now.”
The waiter arrives at the table and gently sets down their plates.
Lorraine’s face has lost its color. “I shouldn’t have put this on you girls. This is something I have to work out with Jesse.”
“There’s nothing to work out, Mom.” Tanya is practically shouting. “You have to leave him. Period.”
Lorraine stares out the window. “I know,” she says.
“No one ever has the right to lay a hand on you.” Tanya slams her fist down on the table. “He should be locked up. He should be held accountable, condemned, for what he’s done. You can’t let him get away with this. And you know, Mom, the next woman he finds, he’s going to do the same thing to her, he’s going to—”
And then Lorraine’s shoulders fall.
Tanya’s entire face changes. She speaks softly. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now. We’re going to make sure you’re safe.”
Nessa puts her hand on Lorraine’s shoulder. “Tanya’s right.”
“I don’t—”
“What is it, Mom?” Tanya presses.
Lorraine looks at Tanya, but then she turns to Nessa. “He’s never going to leave me.”
Nessa and Tanya glance at one another.
“He’s not going to find someone else,” she goes on. Then, everything about her hardens. “I do love him.”
Tanya stands, pushing her chair back so quickly that it falls over behind her, and storms out of the restaurant.
Nessa catches the waiter’s eye from across the room where he and the other two servers are watching. “Check,” she mouths to him, and he nods, catapulting into action.
“Jesse is complicated,” Lorraine says, looking up at Nessa. “He gets really bad when he drinks. He’s not like this all the time. It’s like a different person comes out. He feels terrible about it,” she says. “He wants help. He’s agreed to go to couples counseling.”
Nessa nods. “Have you gone?”
“Not yet,” she says. “He has the name of this man and everything, someone who comes highly recommended.” She looks out the window. “Should we go find her?”
Nessa shakes her head. “She’ll text when she wants us to find her. Let’s just give her some time to cool off.”
Lorraine nods and takes a sip of water.
“Mom, is this the first time he’s hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
Lorraine regards her tiredly and Nessa is surprised by how quickly her mother gives in.
“He’s hurt you before?”
“Of course, Nessa.” For a moment, her mother seems irritated.
“When did it start?”
“Not too long ago,” Lorraine says. “I don’t remember when, exactly.”
“What happened?”
Her mother sighs. “Honey, I’ll tell you about it, but I don’t want to upset you more than you already are.”
“I can handle it,” Nessa says, but already she’s bracing herself.
All those weekends she could have visited but hadn’t. All the one-minute phone calls, exchanging pleasantries, promising longer conversations soon. Guilt engulfs her, the sickly way it overtakes you in a single breath.
Lorraine studies Nessa. She seems to be deciding what to say next.
2016
Things started to get bad after the party at Diane’s house. Jesse hadn’t wanted to go. He didn’t like Lorraine’s coworkers. “They’re boring,” he complained. “Especially that butch one,” he added, meaning Diane. The party wasn’t even really a party—it was more of a get-together, a gathering of coworkers and friends to celebrate Diane’s upcoming retirement from Stand Together. But after some persuasion Jesse had agreed to come along, mostly because Lorraine promised there’d be alcohol there, and that they wouldn’t have to stay long.
As soon as they stepped inside Diane’s house, a big colonial out in Concord, Jesse smiled broadly, turning on his Jesse charm, and Lorraine relaxed a little. Once Jesse was out and surrounded by other people, his mood always seemed to lift, and Lorraine couldn’t help being swept along with it.
It was over by the drinks when Lorraine stopped short at the sight of a man across the room. At first she thought she must be making things up. But no, that was him: Raymond, the chiropractor from Match.com, whom she’d gone on a handful of dates with years before, right after Jonathan left. He was by himself, a drink in one hand and a paper plate of food in the other. He looked mostly the same from all those years ago; a little heavier maybe, and balder. She’d been unimpressed with his looks when she was younger, but now, almost twenty years later, she was less interested in what he looked like and more interested in whether he would remember her or not. She glanced at Jesse. He was going straight for the beer, expertly prying the cap off a bottle of Heineken and air toasting Lorraine before taking a sip.
Lorraine reached for one of the open bottles of pinot grigio in the ice bucket and poured herself a generous glass, wondering if she should approach Raymond or if it would be better to pretend she had no idea who he was.
“Trying to get wasted?” Jesse said, glancing at her cup.
“No,” she said.
“Go easy, Lor,” he said, and then he walked off, leaving her alone by the drink table.
Lorraine took several long sips and then wandered into the living room in search of her coworkers. She spotted several of them, and was about to break into the conversation, when she heard her name.
“It’s Lorraine, right?”
Lorraine smiled. “Hi, Raymond.”
“God, I’m glad that was you. I thought, either I’m about to make a complete fool of myself or I have an excellent memory. It has to be, what . . . fifteen, twenty years?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, it’s great to see you.” He seemed genuinely pleased to see her, and Lorraine felt a swelling in her chest.
“You too,” she said. “How do you know Diane?”
“My wife, Elizabeth, is good friends with her.” He pointed across the room to a small circle of women, but it wasn’t clear which woman Elizabeth was. “How about you?”
“I work with her at Stand Together.”
“Oh, right! I remember you did that kind of work.”
“How’s your practice going?”
“Oh, it’s going,” Raymond said. “I figure I’ll put in another six, maybe seven years, then think about retiring, like our good friend Diane.”
“Are we really that old?” Lorraine asked. She reached up and touched her hair, as though that might provide an answer.
Raymond laughed. “I think we might be getting there.”
A woman walked over then. She was short and heavyset, dressed in an oversized silky blouse, a loud magenta, over matching silky pants. Her hair, blond and cropped, was a little long in front but short and buzzed in the back, an utterly sexless hairstyle, Lorraine noted, one that she herself would never get.
“Hi, there. I’m Elizabeth,” the woman said, smiling, with the warmth and directness of a preschool teacher. She held out her hand to Lorraine. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet.”
“Lorraine,” she said, shaking Elizabeth’s hand.
“Lorraine!” Elizabeth repeated, as though she’d been hoping to meet Lorraine all night. “So nice to finally meet you. Diane’s told me so much about you.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, of course. Honey,” she said, turning to Raymond. “Did you just meet Lorraine?”
“Funny thing,” Raymond said, smiling a little. He was at least a foot taller than his wife, but next to her he seemed to wither a bit. “Lorraine and I actually dated briefly about fifteen years ago. We were matched up on Match.com, if yo
u can believe it.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and a humorous look came over her face. “You’re kidding me!”
Lorraine shook her head; the wine was starting to get to her. “Isn’t that crazy?”
“That’s wild,” Elizabeth said. Then she started to laugh. “Diane!” she called, turning around. Her preschool-teacher voice carried out into the house. “Diane!”
Several moments later Diane appeared.
“Guess who used to date fifteen years ago courtesy of Match.com?” she asked, smiling widely.
Diane raised her eyebrows.
“These two,” Elizabeth said, putting one hand on Raymond’s shoulder and the other on Lorraine’s.
“No kidding,” said Diane.
That was when Jesse appeared. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold, and Lorraine’s body tensed. “What was that?” he asked, coming up behind her. He was holding a Heineken—a new one—and he slipped his other arm around Lorraine’s waist, letting his thumb rest on the waistband of her jeans. “I’m Jesse,” he added, addressing Elizabeth, before glancing dismissively at Raymond.
“Hi, Jesse,” Elizabeth said ardently, as though each new piece of information she received just got more and more thrilling. “You must be here with Lorraine.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Well, it’s a delight to meet you both. I’m guessing you haven’t heard the funny coincidence yet.”
“Not yet,” Jesse said, still smiling. His grip on Lorraine’s waist grew tighter.
“It turns out our spouses matched on Match.com fifteen years ago. Lucky for us, it didn’t work out.”
Jesse laughed. “Lucky for us.”
“We got out of that whole mess before it really got started.” Raymond piped up then. “These days with all these new sites and apps.”
“And Tinder!” Elizabeth said with a dramatic wave of both hands. “Kids are meeting each other on a website called Tinder! They get together just to, you know—dunk the dingus—and then call it a day. No more dinners or movies or meeting the parents. It’s a sex application,” she said, lowering her voice, which was still fairly loud. “Swipe and sex.”
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