Vanity Fare

by Megan Caldwell

  Make them stop, make them stop, I chanted in my head. And then I stopped. Why did conflict always have to bother me so much? Why couldn’t I just let them snipe at each other the way they probably had dozens of times in the past?

  Because I liked to make everything better. I liked it when people were happy, even if I wasn’t.

  And that was the problem with me and Hugh. I was so busy trying to make him happy that I didn’t worry about my being happy. And since I wasn’t happy, and very resentful, I took it out on him. And, being a weak-willed sonofabitch, he bolted.

  It was ironic that he’d had the strength of will to do that, and that I was thankful for it. If he hadn’t, we’d still be engaged in our dance of passive aggression: No, you lead. No, you lead. No, you.

  It sucked. Our marriage sucked. It wasn’t based on anything besides the shared need to make Hugh happy. And that just wasn’t enough.

  My thoughts must have shown on my face, because I realized suddenly that both women had stopped talking and were looking at me. I felt myself flush.

  “Oh, sorry, did you say something?”

  They both laughed. “Honey, you must’ve been thinking something pretty darn important to take your attention away from our bickering,” Linda said. She swatted me on the arm. “What was it? A new beau?” She leaned in closer and whispered, “A new pair of shoes?”

  I heard Tamsin snicker, but not in a mean way. It seemed the ladies had their own regular dance, and it probably was not nearly as nasty as it sounded from the outside.

  Dr. Lowell had said something once about repeating patterns, and how people got caught up in trying to make the same set of events result in a different ending. A Sisyphean task, she’d said. Looking at Tamsin and Linda, and thinking about my own interaction with Hugh, I finally got it.

  The only way things were going to change was if I changed.

  And I was changing.

  The only question was, could I change my situation enough so that Aidan and I could survive?

  The only answer was, I had to.

  “Ha! This is tremendous!” Dr. Lowell had the finished scrapbook on her lap and was flipping through the pages guffawing—actually guffawing!—at least every other page.

  It was pretty neat. And funny. And clever. And rather nice to look at once you got past the black and the attitude and the goofy catchphrases.

  Yeah, it was me. Entirely. Of course I knew that.

  My mother had even chuckled a few times, although her mouth had pursed up when she’d seen what I’d done to a picture of me and Hugh on the beach. Who knew Wite-Out could be so effective?

  Dr. Lowell closed the book and patted the cover. “I am so, so proud of you, Molly.” She gestured to the book on her lap. “You could never have done something like this three months ago, much less six.”

  “Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “It was fun to do, actually. And I made some friends, too. Not people who’ll ever be as close as Keisha, but people I could call up to come over for coffee once in a while.”

  She smiled at me. “And your tasks?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve done all kinds of things I would never do in a million years, including that,” I said, pointing to the scrapbook. “Not all of it was good, or worked out, but I did it.”

  “Great.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs at the ankles. “And how is your mother doing?”

  Oh, Mr. Darcy. “She’s fine. Aidan loves having her, and she’s proven surprisingly helpful. Fingers crossed, though, that my lawyer will find enough of Hugh’s money so I can help her. Neither one of us wants to live with the other any longer than necessary.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I hope you take him for everything he’s got, Molly.” I was surprised at the sharpness in her voice. “He deserves that, for jeopardizing your, and Aidan’s, and your mother’s livelihoods.”

  “He does, but I want him to be able to survive, too.” And I did; I didn’t think I could live with myself if I turned the tables on Hugh so thoroughly that he was the one pondering which type of bean to make for dinner. Aidan needed to have both parents relatively solvent; I just wanted some justice.

  “And speaking of survival, I want to give you this.” I opened my purse and drew out my checkbook. I tore the written check out of it and handed it to her.

  She looked surprised. “Are you sure you can afford this? I can wait. I know things are hard.”

  I nodded and kept holding the check to her. “I can afford it. John paid me, and there are some more projects coming up. It’s not nearly what I owe you, but it’s a start.”

  “Well, thank you.” She glanced at the clock. “Time’s up. Until next week, then.”

  I got myself all put together without too much mishap and took the scrapbook from her, smiling to myself as I saw the cover. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without your encouragement.”

  “You underestimate yourself, Molly.”

  I snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  But I knew, as I walked out of her office and down the hall to the elevator, she was right.

  Hugh picked up Aidan early Saturday morning. I was still so livid with him about Mom’s finances I barely spoke, even though he was making all kinds of puppy eyes at me. Wasn’t going to work, not anymore. Mom was acting all mysterious and headed out to visit a friend in the afternoon, leaving me alone in the house.

  It was nice. I spent the day reading and drinking tea, not even changing out of my sweatpants. By the time I’d had dinner—a can of tomato soup and some stale Goldfish—I was ready for a bath. A good long soak followed by a glass of wine sounded perfect.

  The phone rang just as I was about to get into the tub. I eyed the running water and the foaming bubbles for just a moment, then sighed and padded, naked, down the hallway to pick up the phone. Thank goodness there were no windows between the bathroom and the phone, or the neighbors would’ve been scarred for life.

  “Hello?”

  “Molly, I’m glad you’re home.” It was Lissa, her voice almost returned to its normal perky tone. I was so relieved to hear it I sat down. The hard wooden chair on my bare ass reminded me of my state of undress.

  “What’s up, hon?” I asked, rising gingerly from my seat. I eyed the other chairs, then shrugged and sat down on the rug. Promptly sitting on a Lego. Ouch, shows me for being a slovenly housekeeper.

  “Well, um, I was wondering . . .” It sounded like she held her hand over the phone and mumbled something, then came back. “I want you to come into the city tonight. I need to see you. You’re free, right? I mean, Aidan is with Hugh, right?”

  “Yeah,” I replied slowly, reluctant to give up on the idea of a Night at Home with Just Molly. “Why? Is there more stuff with Tony?”

  She exhaled loudly. “Yes. Yes, there is. So come in, meet me in the East Village at the bookstore there. You know, the one that doesn’t carry any of your sort of books?” She chuckled as she said the last part. I figured she must be recovering well. That, or she had gone insane.

  “Okay. I was going to take a bath, but I can—”

  “There’s no time for that!” Now Lissa’s tone was undeniably urgent. “Just come in. Now. I’ll see you in an hour. And look nice.” She hung up without letting me say anything. I glared at the phone for a minute, then retrieved my bathrobe from the bathroom. There were windows on the way to my bedroom.

  Look nice? What the hell? Guess that meant the sweatpants were out.

  I pulled on a pair of black pants, a black sweater, and wrapped a gauzy green scarf around my neck. “Look nice” might also mean “try not to look old and pale,” so I threw some makeup on. I was out the door in twenty minutes, wondering what the hell was so important.

  Once I got off the subway at Second Avenue, I strode up the street, smiling to myself as I passed the plethora of downtown chic stores. There was a time I would’ve oohed and aahed over the clothes in the window, and I probably would have bought a few of them. Time, circumsta
nce, and Hugh’s inability to hold a job had changed all that.

  As long as Aidan and I were together, and we were both happy, it was okay. So what if I wasn’t on the cutting edge of fashion? So what if all my nicest clothes dated from at least seven years ago? So what? It didn’t matter. I felt good about myself. That was so what.

  Lissa popped out of the bookstore doorway before I’d even spotted her. “There you are,” she said in an accusing yelp. I jumped.

  “What the hell are you doing lurking in the shadows like that, Lissa? Jeez, remember, I’m older than you, you could’ve scared me to death.”

  She grabbed my arm and yanked me. Hard. “Come with me, and nobody gets hurt.”

  “My arm already hurts.” She loosened her grip a little but still kept a firm enough hold of me so I would know she wouldn’t let me escape anytime soon.

  “We’re almost there.” She was walking so quickly she was starting to gasp. I was too confused by what we were doing to worry about my own breathing.

  She turned right on Tenth Street, her perfect little face screwed up in concentration. Then her eyes brightened and she pulled me down three steps to a dark doorway. There was a neon sign in the window for a liquor I didn’t recognize. At least we had stopped speedwalking.

  She pushed the door open and held it for me. I walked in, blinking a little as my eyes adjusted to the dark.

  “Surprise!”

  There they were. All of them, spread out before me like a class photo.

  The cacophony of voices almost knocked me off my feet. And if Lissa hadn’t been in back of me, I would have turned right around and run out.

  John, my mom, some local college friends, neighbors, a few mom-friends, Simon, and . . .

  “Hey, girl.” Keisha walked up and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. “Surprised?”

  I just looked at her with my mouth open. She laughed, then hugged me close. “Yeah, I thought you would be. Lissa and I decided you needed a coming-out party, sorta like those southern belles, only for fortysomething moms who’ve dropped the excess luggage. Think of it as your divorce party.”

  “But I’m not divorced yet.” One of the moms swooped in and gave me a fierce hug. “You look great,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Okay, freedom party then,” Keisha said in an exasperated tone. “You have that, right?”

  “But—but . . .”

  “This is for you, sweetie. Something Lissa and I figured you’d never do in a million years.” Lissa walked from behind me and clasped me quickly around the shoulders. “It’s a karaoke bar, and you are going to sing tonight, honey,” Keisha continued. Her face was almost gleeful. No, it was gleeful. The bitch.

  “Oh, no I won’t,” I said, beginning to edge backward almost without thinking. Lissa’s hand shot out and placed itself firmly on my back.

  “Oh yes you will,” she said, poking me in the shoulder blade. Two bitches. “If I can read the great classics of literature without moving my mouth, you can perform karaoke.”

  I laughed, in spite of my anxiety. “This isn’t something I would never do in a million years, though. This is something I would never do ever.”

  “Speaking of doing something you never ever thought you would—did you see what I got?” Keisha extended her left hand, which had a tiny, winking diamond on her ring finger.

  “Oh my God!” I screamed, launching myself back into her arms. “When did he ask? How did it happen? What did your dad say? When can I meet him?”

  She pulled back and put her hands on my upper arms. She had a sneaky grin on her face. “You can meet him tonight. Mike, come here!”

  A tall man emerged from the shadowy figures near the bar. He was good-looking, classically Irish, with dark red hair and a smile I could already see was rogue-ish.

  “Molly, this is Mike.” I stuck my hand out and he took it, placing a light kiss on the back of my hand.

  “Ooh, he is charming,” I said in an audible aside. Mike’s grin deepened.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Molly,” he said in a deep voice.

  “All of it nice, so don’t even think it,” Keisha interjected. I nodded and smiled, unable, for once, even to think of anything to say.

  I reached out and gave Keisha another hug. “You are the best friend in the world,” I whispered into her ear. “I am so glad you came out.”

  Keisha put her hand on my back and rubbed my shoulder blades. I could tell by the way she was breathing that she was beginning to cry. “You’re my best friend, too, Molly, and it’s time for you to start loving yourself as much as I do,” she whispered back.

  I pulled away, grabbing Lissa by the arm and holding on tight so she could hear, too. “Keisha, I think I have. I really do. It’s the craziest thing, even I can’t believe it, but I do. I’m not in love yet, but I am quite fond of myself. And, with a few more dates, I should be well on the way to admiration. From there, who knows?”

  The girls giggled, then we came together in another hug. Mike leaned into our group. “What can I get you to drink, Molly?”

  I thought. What would I want at my Freedom Party?

  “A sidecar, please.”

  “You go, girl, only don’t make me pick you up off the sidewalk.”

  I turned to Mike and spoke in mock exasperation. “The worst part about having friends for a long time is that they remember what happened a long time ago. Keisha, we were in college. What was that, twenty years ago?”

  She rolled her eyes and held up her hand. “Don’t remind me. Okay, point taken. But make sure you drink water, too,” she said, wagging her finger at me.

  “My mom’s right over there, Keish, I don’t need another one.” I slipped away from the group and walked over to where my mom was deep in conversation with Simon. What in heaven’s name could they be talking about? I hoped it wasn’t me.

  “And she is an excellent mother, and so charming,” I heard as I approached them. Next she’d be making him examine my teeth.

  “Hi, Mom, Simon. This is such a surprise.” Simon was wearing another ultrachic shirt, this time with the top three buttons undone so I could see a little patch of chest hair. I’d never liked chest hair anyway.

  “Well, isn’t this nice of your friends to do,” Mom said, shooting Simon a sidelong glance. “It’s because you’re such a good person.”

  Simon smiled, that slow, lazy smile I’d lusted after the first time I met him. God, what kind of an idiot was I to want to pass this by?

  “Or maybe no one was doing anything else tonight,” he added in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. Oh, I was that kind of idiot.

  Why did my friends even invite him, anyway? I’d have to corner Keisha later and find out.

  I wondered exactly why he’d come. Did he still harbor visions of us getting together? Because as I recalled, I’d pretty much told him no. Or maybe he really didn’t have anything to do.

  Mike came up with my drink, nudging it into my hand. I took a bigger sip than I’d intended, wishing I could wash away my agony over my mom’s blatant comments, Simon’s pomposity, jealousy over Keisha’s happiness—and, oh, hell, was that Nick I saw? I thought he’d left without saying good-bye. And here he was. At my Freedom Party.

  I took another swallow, then pushed my glass back into Mike’s hand.

  “I don’t want to give Keisha the satisfaction of being right, but I do think I have to watch it tonight,” I muttered to him. “Can you grab me some water or something?”

  Mike patted my arm and headed to the bar. I met Nick’s gaze, and something in my stomach leapt.

  “Who’s that, dear?” Mom asked, a hopeful tone in her voice as she watched Mike at the bar. If she had her way, I’d be involved with all of the men in Manhattan, at least all of the ones with college degrees. I didn’t want to tell her anything about Mike because I bet she’d get all intellectually snobby on him.

  “Keisha’s fiancé. He came with her from California.”

  “Oh,” she said, her disappointment evident in h
er tone.

  “Molly, dance with me,” Simon commanded. Prince’s “Cream” was playing. Dancing was probably my second favorite thing, right after hanging out with Aidan. It sure wasn’t sex—Hugh had made sure that activity had gotten bumped down almost to double digits.

  I wondered if Nick danced. I did not even allow myself to think about Nick having sex. Imagining him in rhythmic motion in public was risqué enough.

  “Oh, of course.” We headed toward the dance floor, Simon taking my hand and guiding me as if I were unable to handle it myself.

  Simon was a good dancer, I had to give him that. He moved his hips as if he knew what to do with them and he kept gazing in my eyes as we moved.

  I wondered, uncharitably, if the PR woman he’d been with at the opening night event had not met his mum’s standards.

  If I weren’t so over him, I’d be halfway to bed with him on this one dance alone. Although I could tell he knew how good he was, and that he wasn’t paying a speck of attention to me. Unless, maybe, it was to ask me what I thought of his dancing.

  “Thanks, Simon, I want to go say hi to some other people.” I walked off before he could try to persuade me otherwise.

  “Molly!” John came up and enclosed me in a huge hug. He stepped back, eyeing my outfit. “You look amazing.” He took my arm and steered me farther away from the music. “Thanks for everything, Mol. Your work saved my ass. I owe you.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re the one who’s saving me, hiring me even though I don’t have experience.”

  He shrugged. “I knew you could do it, and probably do it better than anyone I could find with more degrees. Plus, you’ll work for cheap.”

  I laughed. “That is true. So we’re even.”

  My eyes wandered back over to where Nick had been. Now Lissa stood there alone, and I got a crazy idea. “Stay right here, John,” I said, heading to where Lissa stood. I grabbed her and drew her back to where John was. “John, I’d like you to meet my friend. This is Lissa. Lissa, this is John.”

  John looked as though he’d seen an angel. Which, given how gorgeous Lissa was, was likely true.