by Saks, Tessa
The animated noise of the crowd and cameras flooded into the quiet limousine as the door opened. This is it. My shining moment. The glamour. The compliments. All the attention. Finally. She reached for Jonathan’s hand before stepping out of the limousine. Ellen stood, waiting for Jonathan to link arms with her. She smoothed his windswept hair. “Now darling, remember, there will be cameras on us,” she whispered as she straightened his bow tie.
Music cascaded down from the radiant building above as they slowly walked the red carpet toward the stairs, arm in arm, amid all the lights. Ellen smiled at Jonathan and gave his arm a gentle squeeze, wanting to kiss him, the way they did on their honeymoon. Those deep, passionate kisses that now happen only in her memory. At least tonight, he will take her in his arms and hold her close when they dance the first dance. And everyone will see their love. “Did you ever imagine it could feel like this after forty years?” He gave her hand a comforting pat as they continued up the stairs among their esteemed contemporaries. Leaning into him, she relished his sudden closeness.
As they ascended the grand staircase to the museum entrance, she gazed up toward the Corinthian columns and the glowing red satin banners draped across the formal line of the Beaux Arts building. The historic museum structure, spread across nearly five blocks of Central Park, was magnificent, and to see it lit with red crystal lights, as Ellen had suggested, was breathtaking. Thousands of strands of lights, dripping from the roofline and archways, shimmered beneath the cold night sky. The building radiated a brilliant red as if it had been on fire and was now the remaining site of glowing embers. Had she really done this? It was stunning, beyond anything she had imagined. To think a young girl from nowhere and with no money was now, forty years later, able to pull this off and be the center of attention amongst all these influential people.
At the top of the stairs, they stopped for Jonathan to catch his breath. “Ellen, you have outdone everyone this year, it’s very grand.”
They stood in the Great Hall entranceway surrounded by several reporters and a camera. One asked Ellen about the event and the significance of the gold gown. She leaned closer to Jonathan and smiled toward the camera. “Tonight, I think my husband and I have proven how important marriage is. You can’t last this long, not forty years, unless you forgive and you stand together, united.” She faced Jonathan and gushed, “Forever.” Jonathan stared ahead. “Smile, darling,” Ellen whispered, “the world is watching.” She gave his arm a tug of encouragement.
“I need a drink,” he said and abruptly turned his back to her, then walked away.
Ellen stood for a moment under the awkward stare of the camera. Damn him, she wanted to say, but instead forced a graceful smile and excused herself to follow Jonathan, calling out to him, “Darling … my cape.”
He stopped and turned back toward her. He pulled the cape off her and slung it over his shoulder like a roll of carpet. Unsure of how to respond, Ellen remained motionless, watching him disappear into the crowd. The chill of night air wafted in from the open entranceway as the press crew retreated.
“Hey, Mrs. Executive Chairwoman,” a familiar voice called out.
Ellen’s best friend, Patty, stood beside her, smiling and holding a flute of champagne, looking elegant in a deep-red bias-cut satin sheath.
“I love the gold,” Patty said, stepping closer. “You look gorgeous.” Patty touched the beaded silk, nodding in approval. “How does it feel to be one of the VIP couples tonight?”
“Oh, Patty, it’s wonderful,” Ellen said as they linked arms.
“Well, that explains your glow.” Patty took a sip of her champagne. “So twelve more years before I get to wear my envy-inducing gold dress?”
“Sorry darling,” Ellen said with a smile. “That’s what happens when you marry late.”
“Twenty-eight is hardly late, not today anyway.” Patty grinned and pulled Ellen closer. “We can’t all find love at eighteen, you know.”
“I was lucky, wasn’t I?”
“No, my dear.” Patty raised her glass in salutation. “He was the lucky one.”
Too bad he doesn’t always act it, she wanted to say, but smiled instead.
As they moved through the hall, Ellen couldn’t walk ten feet without someone lavishing her with compliments. Such attention! The endless hours of planning and hard work were well worth the effort, she thought, as she looked around the room. A great success.
“Uh-oh, here comes your favorite social princess. I can’t take her.” Patty gave Ellen a gentle squeeze, then escaped to another group of women nearby.
Ellen couldn’t blame Patty. Truth be told, she was afraid of Greta Rosenthal and the damage her acid tongue could inflict. But it was much easier to pretend to like her than be on the receiving end of her scorn. And much safer.
Greta approached and air-kissed Ellen’s cheeks. “Say, have you seen Betty Caulfield? She must have lost a hundred pounds. My God, she looks like a cancer survivor!”
“Well,” Ellen said, choosing her words carefully, “she did work hard—”
Greta let out a cackle. “But darling, what’s the point? He’s already gone.”
“Perhaps she couldn’t help it,” another voice piped in. “I heard she was so depressed after her husband dumped her, she went to a fat farm.”
“I heard stomach stapling,” said another.
Other women suddenly joined their circle as the attack on Betty intensified.
“It doesn’t matter,” Greta said with a groan, “she’ll never get anyone now.”
Ellen knew Greta was right; it was over for her. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when Betty’s life fell apart. Some women have no control of anything and slip from one drama to another, never knowing why. But even poor Betty didn’t deserve this. No woman does. “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Ellen said, hoping to change topics. “She’s a tough one.”
“No one is tough when they’ve lost everything.”
Ellen stared at the heartless smiles of the women surrounding her, each content knowing her own marriage was secure. Was there any point trying to defend Betty against these shrewd judges? Ellen wished she could smack these ladies, or at least tell them off. There seemed no limit to their cruelty. But they were also her friends. She hated to admit, hypocrites or not, it was great to have such influential friends. “She doesn’t deserve—”
“Well, I thought she deserved every bit of it, poor goat,” Greta said. The circle laughed in a cloned response, then stopped. Ellen turned in the direction of their shocked faces. Betty Caulfield stood before them.
“Betty—” Ellen said, interrupting the awkward silence. “You look … lovely. We were all wondering, who made your dress?”
“Oh yes,” cooed Greta.
The other women joined in a flourish of compliments. Ellen smiled, watching this animated display of synthetic camaraderie. She wanted to laugh aloud. Liars. Hypocrites. But then, that was well known and accepted. It was all part of the game. The big lie. She was as much a part of it as anyone. Like the popular crowd at school, you’re either in or you’re out. And no one wanted to be out. The slightest social gaffe could cast you out, never to return. Was everyone else also haunted by the constant fear gnawing at you? The fear of a dreaded “incident”?
As she surveyed the scene, she spotted Jonathan at the bar across the room and caught his eye. He glanced away.
Is he drinking? Oh, don’t let him drink too much, not tonight. She excused herself. A chill flashed through her as she wove her way through the crowd. Jonathan was no longer at the bar or anywhere in sight. She scanned the hall, hoping to find him. The huge bouquets of scarlet roses, set on fourteen-foot tall wrought iron stands and shaped into massive spheres with ivy and rosebuds trailing down, blocked most sightlines. As she passed the staircase, lit a dramatic crimson from the thousand red votive candles lining twenty limestone treads, Ellen noticed several candles near the top were out. She moved through the crowd in search of both her husband and someone to re
light the candles, but as she continued to circulate, her concerns dissolved with every flattering encounter. She was a star tonight, and she stood surrounded by women in red, all admiring her good fortune.
“You are such an inspiration,” one of them said, gushing with enthusiasm. They nodded in approval.
Ellen smiled. “The secret is forgiveness and commitment. No one is committed anymore.”
Patty asked, “Did you hear about Mrs. Z’s friend?”
“What will she do?” Ellen tried to convey deep concern.
“After he remarries, guess who will get all the invitations?”
“It’s a crime,” Greta said. “One minute you’re on everyone’s list, and the next you don’t exist.” She took a generous sip of wine, no doubt her second or third glass.
Ellen shook her head solemnly. “It’s not right.”
“Right or not, it is awkward,” Patty added. “I mean, you can’t have them both at your party, especially if he brings the baby wife.”
“Well, of course he’ll bring her,” Greta snapped. “That is the whole point, isn’t it? Look at me and my young bride.” The women sipped their drinks in unified solidarity against the unspoken enemy they all feared. “We are becoming extinct. One by one. Ellen,” Greta said, raising her glass, “here’s to hanging on to your man.”
The women raised their glasses, clinking them together as they affirmed in unison, “To Ellen and Jonathan.”
Patty motioned toward Jonathan as he approached. “Here comes the man of honor.”
“Congratulations.” A chorus of approval clattered around him.
Ellen watched in admiration at the attention he commanded. And why not? A sixty-year-old cross between an aging Cary Grant and Clark Gable, he certainly had charm. He smiled a sheepish grin as Ellen rested her hand on his arm, the scent of scotch mixed with sandalwood greeting her as she leaned closer.
“Darling, you haven’t had too much, have you?” she whispered.
He patted her hand. “Not to worry, I can handle it.” His words sounded soft and rolling.
“Come, let’s get some air.” She smiled as they excused themselves from the ladies. Ellen held his arm as they walked through the Egyptian antiquities toward the Temple of Dendur, away from the congested main hall. “You know how I hate it when you drink. You seldom drink anymore … why tonight of all nights?”
“Well, darling, so I can live up to your grand expectations, of course,” he said, waving his hand before bowing.
“I can’t let you spoil tonight,” Ellen said, straightening his tie.
“Nooo! That wouldn’t look good, now would it? All these old vultures would really have something to feast on, wouldn’t they?”
“You need some food. Come on.” Ellen pulled his arm toward the corridor leading back toward the Great Hall.
“No, you go. I’ll wait right here. I can’t listen to any more of this love crap.” He smiled and tugged on his lapels, bracing himself against the textured stone wall.
Ellen headed back to the Hall in search of food. Her thoughts raced as she imagined him stumbling around, a foolish drunk, saying absurd things to everyone, and the laughter and gossip that would spread out of control. This was supposed to be a night to impress everyone, and she was not about to let him ruin it. She filled his plate with lobster canapés and truffle croquettes. More women and praise surrounded her, except this time almost everyone wondered where Jonathan was. Her blood pressure spiked as she made her way back with the plate of food.
When she arrived, he was standing where she left him, only now with another drink in his hand. She pulled the glass out of his hand and shoved the plate toward him. “Here, you need this.”
“You always think you know what I need, don’t you?” Jonathan said, resisting the plate in front of him.
Ellen set his drink beside them and pushed the plate into his hand. “Well, that’s my job, isn’t it?”
“I thought it was to torture me.”
“Jonathan!” Ellen crossed her arms. “Stop that.”
“Stop what, Ellen?”
“You’re behaving like a drunk. Smarten up!” She reached for his tie.
He pulled back. “I’m not drunk, darling. I’m just happy. Isn’t that what you want? Aren’t I supposed to look happy?”
“Yes, of course, but you’ve already had too much. I don’t want you to embarrass me, not tonight.”
“Ah, yes. Not here, not in front of all these fine people you care so damn much about.” He slammed his plate down, spilling lobster and truffles onto the gold organza tablecloth beside them.
“You care, too. You care what they think.”
“You’re dead wrong. I don’t give a shit what they think. They are all fucking social leeches.”
“Jonathan! Stop being so vulgar!” Her heart froze as she surveyed the room for anyone who might be paying attention. “Why are you acting like this? Why tonight?”
“Since you’re asking, it’s because this night means more to you than I do. It means more to you than our marriage.”
“This night is about our marriage, Jonathan. It’s about you.”
“No, Ellen. It’s about you. I don’t care that it’s about you, but this crap of how happy we are, well, it’s bullshit and you know it.” His voice boomed, amplifying the words.
“What?” Her eyes burned with the threat of tears. “How can you possibly say something like that?”
“Because it’s the truth.” He looked directly at her while his words sliced deep into her heart. “I don’t love you anymore, Ellen. I haven’t for years. I’m sorry, but this shouldn’t be a surprise. God knows I’ve tried to make this work, tried to pretend, but I just can’t do it anymore.” He picked up his drink and took a long sip.
“Jonathan!” Ellen blinked several times to stop the tears. “Stop this right now. I’m sorry about whatever it is that’s upset you, but please, please behave.” She closed her eyes, as if somehow, by doing so, she could stop his foolishness.
This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not tonight. What was he saying? Her mind clouded over, blocking any bits of reason. She opened her eyes and saw his empty expression.
“It’s not anything you did, Ellen. It’s not anything you didn’t do. I simply feel nothing anymore. Nothing at all. I can’t go on lying.” He shook his head and pulled on his cuffs. “I love her, you know I do. I want to be with her. In fact, I want to marry her.”
“No!” Ellen’s knees went weak. “You don’t mean it. You can’t.” She struggled to regain composure. “You’re drunk.” He has to be, she told herself. Only a drunk could be this cruel.
“I’m not drunk. I’ve never been more sober in my life. I feel great. In fact, I feel free … more than I ever imagined.” He set his drink down. “I’m sorry. But, this is just too much, all this ridiculous prancing around, spreading lies to everyone—”
“Stop it!” She covered her eyes. A violence unleashed within. She wanted to hit him and inflict pain. She wanted to scream and rage and tear him into pieces. Make him suffer. But not here. Years of grooming and restraint had trained her to ignore what feelings churned inside. She took a breath. “Stop this right now.”
“We aren’t happy and united. I don’t see why you think we are. I am not committed and all that other bullshit you and everyone here keep prattling on about. It’s wrong to pretend. I see that now. I will not be part of any more lies.”
“Oh, God help me. I feel sick.” Ellen braced herself against the table as her knees started to buckle. Trying to steady herself, she leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths. Her head pounded. “Tell me you don’t mean this. Of course you don’t. Tomorrow you will forget all of this.”
“No, Ellen.” His voice was cold. “Tomorrow I will be gone.”
“No!” she cried. “This is wrong. This is wrong … you can’t do this … not now … not here.”
“I can, and I will.” He turned to walk away.
“Jonathan—pleas
e, don’t do this. Think of how it will look.” She tried to pull him closer.
“How it will look!” He pulled away from her grasp. “Damn it, Ellen. That really is all that matters to you, isn’t it?”
“But Jonathan … I … I love you, you know I do …” She covered her racing heart with her hands. “Why are you doing this? Why?”
“Because God damn it, I don’t love you. You are living a lie and you know it. It’s over. I want a divorce!” He turned and walked away.
Ellen’s strength collapsed. Her brain was numb. She covered her face with her hands, hoping to block all this away, hoping to erase it all. How could this be happening? Why tonight? Why now?
She started to run after him, to plead with him, to beg him to stay, then stopped when she saw Greta. No. Not in front of everyone. He’s drunk. He has to be. She tried to convince herself as she turned away from the corridor. He will regret this tomorrow. But that doesn’t change tonight. That won’t undo all the damage he’s doing on her big night. Why tonight? Why now?
As she tried to make sense of everything, tears broke through her fortress of composure. She was alone … alone and old. A divorce! She desperately wanted to leave, to run away. But this was her big event—she couldn’t run. What would the people at their table say? What would everyone say? She wanted to die. She tried to find her purse on the table through the haze of tears.
A hand held out a tissue. “Here.”
“Oh, Patty, he just—” Ellen reached for the tissue and held it against her eyes. “He—”
“Come on. Let it out,” Patty said, rubbing her back. “But let’s get you away from this crowd.”
“Crowd? Oh no! No!” Ellen looked up from her wet tissue. “They saw this? Please tell me no one saw this scene.”