A Delicate Truth

by McKnight, Zoe

  My mother squeezes my hand. “Would you let her talk?”

  “No, I won’t, because it’s too late. That ship has sailed. She should’ve called me the next day. The very next day. Right after her ass sobered up.”

  “I didn’t remember everything that had happened—”

  “No? So when you woke up with a black eye you didn’t remember how you got it?”

  She takes a deep swallow and looks to our mother.

  “She was upset. You were upset. She didn’t think you would even talk to her. Just look. Look how you’re reacting now, and it’s been over a week. What would you have said to her the next day?”

  She’s right. I wouldn’t have taken her call and if I did I would have cursed her out a thousand different ways, but she still should have tried.

  “And you could have called me,” Norah says timidly.

  “Called you? To say what?”

  Our meals arrive. We eat in complete silence. I can’t even taste my food. I just want this over with. I want to be away from her. Now. My mother attempts to lighten the mood with small talk, only no one is responding. I’m focused on my plate, and Norah’s head is hung low as she picks at her omelet.

  When the check comes they both ignore it. My mother pulls her compact out of her purse and reapplies her lipstick. Meanwhile, Norah gets mascara all over her napkin as she dabs at her eyes. So, not only am I the bad guy, but I have to feed this bitch, too? I glance at the check, dig into my purse and retrieve enough cash to cover two-thirds of the bill then shove the money into the check-holder. When Mindy returns, I hand it to her along with a folded twenty dollar bill. She smiles, thanks me and asks if I’ll be needing any change.

  “No.” I gesture towards my sister. “She’ll be covering the rest.”

  It’s beneath me. I know it and ordinarily I’d be too embarrassed to pull such a stunt, but I’m far too incensed to care how it looks. I always give in when it comes to her, but not anymore.

  The waitress tries to conceal her confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She rests the billfold back down in front of Norah. “Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Oh, Blair,” my mother says. “How petty.”

  “I have to go.” I scoot out from the booth and head towards the door without so much as a look back.

  After I’ve settled in my car and turned the key in the ignition, I hear my name. I roll down my window and watch my mother hasten towards the car.

  “Blair! How are you just going to walk away like that?”

  “I have to go pick up my child.”

  She reaches through my window and grasps the steering wheel. “Stop. Put the car in park. Now. We still haven’t resolved this nonsense between you two.”

  Norah approaches tentatively. “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I was out of line. I apologize.”

  I could excuse her embarrassing me, I could even look past the fight, but what I will never forgive is what she said to Vaughn. Maybe she doesn't remember saying it, but her purpose was to hurt me. To come between my husband and me. I’ll never forgive her for that. There’s entirely too much on the line. I won’t allow her to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  “I had too much to drink,” she says. “I wasn’t myself.”

  “Then you need to check your ass into a program because you have a problem.”

  I thrust the gearshift into drive and peel off. By the time I calm down I realize I’m heading in the wrong direction on the turnpike.

  SEVEN

  A month later Vaughn and I are in Scarsdale, at the housewarming of one of his former teammates. We’ve been there for all of half-an-hour when I hear a familiar voice. I nearly choke on my iced tea.

  Celine.

  “Blair, Vaughn!” She approaches with Edward in tow. This is the first time I’m seeing her since Christmas Eve. Fortunately, she was on vacation the weekend of my birthday party.

  Realizing there’s no escape route, I look away, then kneel, buying time by smoothing down Morgan’s dress and retying her shoelaces. It will take at least that long to remove the disgust from my face. I look up, and she’s standing above me. I see her with new eyes, taking notice of the things that somehow escaped me when she and I were friends. Like how narrow and long her face is and how it looks pinched when she’s deep in thought. And just how uptight she and Edward are. It’s a Saturday afternoon, most everyone is wearing jeans and t-shirts, and this tight-ass is wearing a pantsuit as if she’s on her way to a job interview. And Edward looks like he’s headed to a Monday morning board meeting.

  What had I been thinking in befriending her?

  She draws me into an involuntary embrace. Her lavender scent assaults my nostrils. I cough.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Getting over a cold,” I say. She jolts. Celine is a germaphobe.

  “Well, just where have you been, lady? You missed my spa day. Did you get my messages?”

  If I’d known she would be here I would’ve prepared my excuses, but who knew. Yet another reminder of the powerful six degrees of separation in Somerset County.

  “I … I wasn’t feeling well,” I say. “I meant to call but…”

  She’s silent, waiting for a solid explanation. Either not getting or not accepting the ‘trail-off’, which most people understand to mean, I have no excuse, just let it go.

  “Funny, because Bethenny told me she saw you at the gym that morning. Says you took her Zumba class.”

  Is this bitch serious? That spa day was nearly four months ago. I think back. I likely did take that class. I never thought I’d have to hide out the entire day of her little get-together just so I could save face months later.

  I shrug. “I don’t remember.”

  “It’s okay, you’ll make the next one. We missed you though.”

  I ask her how she knows the homeowner for two reasons. To change the subject and to figure out just who else in my circle she’s friendly with. She tells me that Edward performed his ankle surgery a few years back.

  “Ahh, it’s a small world,” I say.

  “Yes it is. Speaking of which, I heard about what happened with Hannah. It’s terrible. She was, well she still is, very upset you know. What happened?”

  Damn. I’d put Hannah out of my mind and forgotten all about their connection. Of course she knows I fired her.

  “Just didn’t work out,” I say. “You know how it is.”

  She takes a tiny step closer. “But what happened? I mean, we never had an issue with her. Right, Ed?”

  Edward offers a distracted nod.

  “Yeah well, it didn’t quite work out with us. No hard feelings though. I told her I’d be happy to be a reference.”

  “Then why let her go?”

  “Is that the new Bottega Veneta?” I ask, gesturing towards Celine’s woven tote. I know it is, I was eyeing it last week at Bergdorf’s. I’m kind of turned off by the fact that we have similar tastes.

  “Oh yes, isn’t it chic?” She rubs her hand down its side. “Marshall surprised me with it last month. I love it. It goes with everything…”

  Ah yes. Operation distract-a-bitch was a success. Now’s my chance to get away. The longer I stay, the harder it is to maintain this facade. I feel my true feelings creeping to the surface. I have no poker face, never have, it’s always been easy to read my emotions. Which is the same reason I’m not a good liar, although God knows I’ve had enough practice.

  “Babe, isn’t that Evan and Nicole? We should go say hi.” I link my arm through Vaughn’s and politely pull him away.

  But before I can even take a step, Celine turns to Vaughn. “So you didn’t like Hannah, either?”

  I could scratch her eyes out.

  “Hannah? Hannah who?” he says.

  “Your nanny, Hannah Winters. I referred her to you. If she’s done something, let me know so I won’t go around referring her to people.”

  He looks at me. “We let the nanny go? When? I thought you said she was with Morg last
night when we went to dinner.”

  “She was, well the new nanny was. I let Hannah go in January, remember?” I tilt my head slightly, indicating that he should just agree and I’ll explain later.

  “Oh, you didn’t know?” Celine’s eyes are full of suspicion.

  I place my hand on his chest. “He just doesn’t remember, he’s been so busy with work lately.”

  I receive another suspicious glance, this time from Vaughn, but he says, “Oh yeah, that seems like such a while ago, I must have forgotten. Yeah, just didn’t work out.”

  Celine isn’t satisfied with Vaughn’s clean-up but she drops it and turns her attention to Morgan.

  “That is a shame, it’s so hard to find good people, but we have to do what we have to do to make sure our little ones are in the right hands, don’t we?” She kneels down so that she’s eye level with Morgan. “Hey there little darling, don’t you look pretty in your yellow dress.”

  Morgan looks at her with bewilderment, then steps behind Vaughn and clings to his leg. See, even my baby can tell that this woman is trouble.

  Vaughn picks her up. “Aww, you’re being shy, Princess? Say hi.”

  Morgan turns her head and buries her face in his chest.

  “I see she’s going to be a daddy’s girl,” Celine says.

  I nod. “She already is.”

  We’re back home when Vaughn starts in with the questions. He’s just stepped out of the bathroom, still dripping wet from his shower; a thick chocolate-brown towel is swathed around his waist. “So when were you going to tell me you fired the nanny?”

  Shit.

  “I didn’t want to bother you with it.” I sit at my vanity table, removing my lashes. “It was no big deal.”

  “Bother me? Why would you think I’d be bothered to learn that the woman who takes care of our daughter has been fired?”

  “I take care of our daughter.”

  “You know what I mean. What happened? What did she do?”

  “Just a bunch of stuff.”

  “Like?”

  “Like she was unreliable,” I say. “She kept showing up late. I caught her on her cell phone a few times when she was supposed to be watching Morgan. I just thought it best to replace her, that’s all. No big deal.”

  “So then why not tell me?”

  “Vaughn, you never seem interested when I discuss the staff with you. You always say that’s my department, so I just handled it.”

  “Yeah, I could care less about the housekeepers and landscapers, but the woman who helps take care of my baby, that I’d be interested in.”

  “Okay, well now I know. I’ll be sure to inform you the next time I fire the nanny, okay?”

  “What’s with the attitude?”

  “I don’t have an attitude. I just don’t know why you’re making such a big deal.”

  “Seems like you’re the one making it a big deal.”

  “And it seems like you don’t trust my judgment,” I say.

  “That I don’t trust you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He comes behind me, gently rests his hands on my shoulders and speaks to my reflection. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the past, does it?”

  I spin around in my seat. “The past?”

  “It’s just that I know it’s hard for you sometimes. To trust other women.”

  “Are you implying that I fired Hannah because of you? Because I was afraid of you and her—”

  “Nah Baby, you know nothing like that would ever happen. I just know that some women aren’t comfortable with having other women around their men. I can understand that. Did she say or do something…”

  Is he serious? How he managed to make everything about him was beyond me. Dr. Lane’s words ring in my ears, “He thrives on the attention, he can’t help it.” I take a deep breath like she told me and count. One. Two. Three… Okay. “No, Vaughn, it has nothing to do with you, I just wasn’t happy with her.” How tired I was of repeating that sentence. If I had to explain it one more time, God help me. “Maritza, the new nanny, is doing great. Maybe you can meet her this weekend if you’re around.”

  He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, Babe. I was just asking. I know that you know that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I just had to put it out there. You looked really uncomfortable when Celine brought it up.”

  “I just don’t like her is all.”

  “Yeah? Since when?”

  “It’s just girl stuff.”

  “Well, truth be told. Neither do I. Never really did. Ed’s okay, but she’s annoying. And why the hell was she wearing a suit at a barbecue? She was making me hot.”

  I laugh. It’s moments like now when I’m reminded of why I fell in love with Vaughn in the first place. Not only are we in love, but we really like each other, too. We are friends. The key to any successful marriage.

  “Well, it’s actually kind of hot in here,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to be intimate. “Why are you wearing that towel?”

  He smiles. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

  I drop my robe and watch as his towel falls to his ankles. Moments later we’re in bed, and all thoughts of annoying neighbors and gossip and nannies are forgotten.

  EIGHT

  Unfortunately for Celine, but fortunately for me, she’s been away caring for her mother. Through a group text message to me and the other “girls” she apologized for having to cancel her annual Mother’s Day luncheon. After having a double-knee replacement, her mother fell and shattered her hip. Celine hightailed it up to New Hampshire armed with a lawsuit against the nursing home.

  Good riddance. The further away she is, the better. She last called me to ask how Morgan liked the earrings she’d given her for Christmas. Her way of reminding me that I never properly thanked her. But how could I, when the gift was at the bottom of my garbage pail before I could even untie the bow.

  I’m sitting in the backyard, flipping the page of my Philippa Gregory novel when Vaughn bursts out onto the deck.

  “Babe, just got a call from Stu. W magazine wants me for a double-paged spread next month.”

  Stu is Vaughn’s press manager. Whenever he calls, it’s regarding a PR opportunity. Vaughn loves it when Stu calls.

  I lift my head up from my book and smile. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yeah, how’s the fifteenth for you?”

  “For me?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s a family photo shoot. I’d think my wife should be there.”

  “Family?”

  “Yup, for father’s day. They’re doing a feature on athletes and their families. It’s going to be Morg’s first photo shoot.”

  Photo shoot? Of Morgan?

  “Why are you making that face?” He sits on the lawn chair beside me and takes a big gulp of my lemonade, nearly finishing it. “I thought you’d be excited.”

  Excited? No! I can’t have my baby photographed for the world to see. No, it’s far too risky. “I … I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t know that I feel comfortable with her pictures posted all over some magazine. She’s still a baby,” I say.

  “Posted all over some magazine? This is W. It’s a legit publication. I wouldn’t be associated with it if it wasn’t. I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

  I dog-ear my page and put the book down. “I don’t know, you hear these stories all the time of kids being kidnapped, held for ransom. What if someone—”

  “What?” He looks at me as if I just told him that the sky was red. “What if someone whats? Kidnaps Morgan? You’re talking crazy. That shit only happens in the movies.”

  “I’m serious, Vaughn. I don’t like it. Makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Blair, I’m a retired football player, not president of the United States. No one is going to take our daughter hostage. And if they were it’s not going to be because they saw her in a magazine. You�
�re killing me.” He sighs and looks away. “Why are you shitting on this?”

  “I’m not. I just don’t feel comfortable.”

  “With what?” He throws his hands up. “It’s only a picture. Where is this coming from?”

  “Nowhere,” I say, my argument losing momentum by the minute.

  “First you fire the nanny, and now this.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that I never took you for one of those kind of mothers.”

  I sit erect. My feelings already hurt, although I’m unsure what he’s implying. “Those kind of mothers?”

  “Yeah. Overprotective and obsessive.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You forget she’s my daughter too,” he says. The significance of those words, he’ll never know.

  “I just—”

  “You just what?”

  I have nothing else. If he wants her in that photo shoot, there’s nothing I can say to prevent it.

  “You’re right, I guess I’m just being a bit overprotective.”

  He shakes his head, gets up and walks away.

  It’s the morning of the photo shoot. Until now, I’ve feigned enthusiasm. However, I’m no more accepting of the idea today than I was when he first proposed it. I tried to set aside my fears, really I did. Logic dictates that nothing will come of this. They’re only pictures. Only Celine seemed to sense anything. No one else has. In fact, people frequently tell us that she looks like Vaughn. I know it’s something people tend to say even when it’s not true, but I’ve also heard that if you spend enough time with someone you start to look like them. There could be some truth to it. Vaughn has no doubts, and I’m beginning to see tiny resemblances between her and myself, even traces of my sister. As long as she stays on this course everything will be okay.

  But, despite my pep talk, I’m fraught with angst. Because she does look more like Dylan than me. I even think I see little gestures of his in her.

  This morning Vaughn must have spent an hour deciding on which of the three new outfits he’d bought her that she’ll wear. Each coordinated equally as well with his whipcord suit and my chocolate linen sheath.