What is Love?

by Saks, Tessa

  “I had no idea about your rough childhood. So that’s why you got hitched so young.” Patty’s voice was soft with concern. “Was it bad with your aunt and uncle?”

  “No,” Ellen lied. A chill moved through her. “No, Aunt Victoria and Uncle George were good to me, but I was eager to have them love me. I was so desperate to be a part of their life, that I did anything just to please them.” She paused on the word anything, awakening buried feelings of shame. “I constantly worried about making a mistake or disappointing them and was afraid that if I messed up, they would send me somewhere horrible and I’d be alone again. I was a very insecure young girl doing everything to please everyone, afraid to be abandoned.”

  “I bet you were. What happened with your mom?”

  “Mother,” Ellen paused, remembering her limited contact. “She called occasionally and wrote regularly.” Ellen knew the weight of her lie but pushed it aside. “She had big plans for me. She wanted me to be a grand lady, something she would never be. She regretted her choices in life, and lived with envy of her sister who made the right choice and married a rich man. Her only hope was that I live with her sister and turn into what she had wanted to be. She filled me with dreams—of going to elegant parties, wearing diamonds and mink. So, I read everything I could to learn about etiquette and style … you might say I was obsessed.”

  “Well, look at you now. We assumed you came from money. Bet your mom’s proud.”

  “Yes, too bad she can’t remember me.” Ellen looked away. “Dementia stole her years ago.” What she wanted to say was, too bad she never knew about any of it … of the damage. Too bad Mother’s mental illness left me alone and frightened and desperate. Too bad I was considered a hillbilly by the other girls and never fit in. Too bad the past can’t be undone.

  “But I do live the life she dreamed of, and I have her to thank. It amazes me what parents will sacrifice for their children. She wanted me to have everything and sacrificed her needs as a mother for mine, so I could have a wonderful life.” Ellen was suddenly aware of her rambling on and revealing far too much personal information.

  “As you have done for your kids,” Patty added.

  “Yes, little do they realize. One day they will understand.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, darling.” Patty laughed. “At least your kids visit you. Mine live on the other side of the world … intentionally, I think.”

  “I see them, but not often enough.” Ellen leaned closer, speaking in hushed tone. “Then when they’re here, I often feel unappreciated and can’t wait for them to leave. Bad, isn’t it?”

  “I’m the same way. We’re supposed to love our kids, but sometimes … boy, they make it such a challenge. I often wonder why we bother. Then, you look again at this,” Patty held a picture of Ellen holding Brianna as a baby, “and it’s all worth it, isn’t it?”

  Ellen glanced at the photograph and smiled. “Yes. The love is incredible. This little one thinks you are the most important person in the world and won’t leave your side. Those clear eyes looking up at you, believing in you, trusting you … it is remarkable, that joy—”

  “Until they become teenagers, then everything you do is embarrassing and stupid.” Patty slipped another truffle into her mouth, pulled a photo out from the album and held it up. “Now this looks interesting.”

  “That was 1951. I helped design the coat line back then and that was our buying trip to Paris … it was so romantic.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  “The babies came.” Ellen pushed the photos away. “But, I didn’t like designing anyway. I mean, once you design a hundred coats, you’ve done them all. And those dreary uniforms. Of course, I loved the shopping part of it. I’ve always been a great shopper.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” Patty slapped Ellen’s thigh. She stood and grabbed Ellen by the shoulders. “When you get tired of all this self-pity and need a change of scenery, give me a call. We’ll shop you out of misery.”

  “And end my pity party? No way.” Ellen pulled away and raised her hands in defense. “Not yet. I’m still too hurt and angry and … maybe after he returns, after some good news, then we can go celebrate.” Ellen forced a feeble smile. “Let’s hope, anyway.”

  CHAPTER 3

  It was two a.m. Tuesday when Jonathan quietly slipped back into the house. Four nights had passed since the gala, four nights since he had fought with Ellen. He tiptoed past her room and down the hall to his bedroom. A sliver of light shone from the narrow opening at the base of his door, illuminating part of the dark hallway floor. He slowly opened the door and noticed Ellen, asleep on his bed, surrounded by photographs and stacks of albums. He tiptoed across the room and stood over her.

  He picked up a few photos: the old summerhouse, the birth of Brianna in 1956, the trip to California, Brandon’s first birthday in 1953, Brianna on her tricycle. Memories rose to the surface. He had blocked these feelings of the past. But here, now, spread before him and undeniable, they were still part of him. His life. His family. His wife. With every photo, he felt the weight of his guilt. His conversation with Brandon this morning, about leaving Ellen, finished any plan he made of a quick escape. Instead, he was reminded how much value his children put on integrity and trust. He had taught them that. He felt sick.

  He went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He studied his reflection in the mirror. How could he be so cruel? As much as he hated Ellen’s constant nagging and her pious vanity, he had loved her … once. In those photographs, he remembered the girl he had adored. She was full of life and daring. She introduced him to a world filled with elegant dinners, parties, glamorous friends … and fun. They had shared plenty of good times over the years.

  He returned to his bedroom and stood, watching Ellen sleep. Her face appeared soft and frail. Innocent. What happened? What had changed and when?

  He pulled the blanket over Ellen’s shoulders and turned off the lights. In the darkness, he sat in his leather club chair and thought about the years they shared. When did it end? When did he no longer feel loved? He stared past her, toward hazy shadows cast on the far wall from the soft moonlight and tried to untangle his feelings. She never understood his needs. She never stopped to try to figure out what was missing from his life. She was perfectly happy; her world was her family, her church, and her society. When did he no longer fit in? He had stopped going to church with her, stopped participating in countless activities. Why didn’t he try harder? And why couldn’t he love her the way she loved him?

  He sat for a long time, reflecting. Ellen stirred gently on the bed. Jonathan felt his cruelty wash away, replaced with pity. He walked up to the bed, bent down and kissed her forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, then sat beside her. “I am so very sorry.”

  She opened her eyes and put her hand on his. “Are you?”

  “Yes,” he answered, his voice tender. “I was a heartless jerk. Can you forgive me?”

  “Should I?” Ellen slowly sat up and faced him. “You said you wanted to leave me. You told me you want to be with her …” Her eyes glistened as her voice broke with emotion. “Do you have any idea how horrible—?”

  “No … I was drunk.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “I want to be with you. I want to work things out.”

  “And I want to believe that, Jonathan, I do. But it’s been so painful.” Her tears gave way.

  Jonathan reached for a tissue and touched her wet cheeks. “I want to make it up to you … will you let me try?”

  Ellen sat for a moment, looking out toward the window. He braced himself for an angry outburst. Instead, her face softened and her eyes gazed deep into his, her pleading gentle eyes.

  “Are we still going to Barbados?” Ellen asked in a hushed voice, running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t cancel yet, I was hoping—”

  “Yes dear,” he said, embracing her hand. “That’s a great idea. Let’s celebrate our forty years together just as planned.
Let’s work this out and go away and have some fun.”

  As he spoke these words, guilt crashed over him like a North Shore wave. Samantha! His heart froze. How could he not hurt Ellen, yet not hurt Sam? He sat on the bed holding Ellen’s hand, painfully aware that he would hurt someone no matter what choice he made.

  ***

  Sam listened to the message on her answering machine and threw the cordless phone onto the floor, hoping it would shatter into a hundred pieces. “The bitch has him going to Barbados,” she screamed to her roommate.

  “His wife?” Sienna called out from the kitchen.

  “Yes, his bitch wife!” Sam yelled and flopped back onto the bed, pushing away the sickening image of that fat, miserable woman vacationing with Jonathan.

  Sienna appeared in Sam’s doorway holding a bottle of vodka. She kicked the phone aside with her foot, the bent antenna catching on her sock until she shook it free.

  “He told me he’d canceled it with her and was taking me instead.” Sam threw a badly mended bunny against the headboard. “What the hell? Why would he go with her? He hates her.”

  Sienna poured a shooter of the vodka, handed it to Sam, and said, “Maybe she convinced him—you know—it would look bad for the family. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “What would the neighbors think, more like it.” Sam drank the shot in one quick swallow. “God, I hate her! She’s such a selfish cow. She doesn’t deserve him. You know, she doesn’t even screw him. They haven’t had sex for, God, like thirty years or something.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No. Dead serious. He said after the babies, her hormones died or something. Then she just couldn’t do it—ever. What a bunch of shit. She was in it for the money, got it all and then ‘Sorry dear, not tonight or the next fifty years, see—I have this, like, bitch’n headache’.”

  Sienna laughed. “That’s pathetic. Good luck keeping your man, never having sex.”

  “She used religious guilt, too—as an excuse, I mean,” Sam said, pressing her hands together in mock prayer. “God doesn’t like kinky sex. It’s immoral, you perv.”

  “What a loser. She sounds like my mom, all Godlike and uptight. She drove Dad away with all that guilt and shit. A total nag.”

  Sam held her glass out for a refill. “But wait—get this—she lets him mess around with other women. She knows he screws around, but no prostitutes allowed.” She downed the shot.

  “What morals! Screw strangers but just don’t pay for it.”

  “Yeah, put your dick into every girl at the office, but keep it clean, just in case I decide to sleep with you sometime in the next hundred years!”

  Sienna laughed. “Yeah—wouldn’t want to catch anything.”

  They were both laughing, leaning against each other. “Oooh, don’t let the neighbors catch you.”

  “Don’t get caught on film.”

  “Don’t do it with anyone I know,” Sam said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “And don’t fall in love,” Sienna added, pointing her index finger at Sam.

  Sam stopped laughing and sat up straight, a knot tightened in her chest. “You think he might change his mind? About us, I mean.”

  “He’s crazy about you, I’ve seen it.” Sienna shook her head. “No way.”

  “Yes, but she could make him feel guilty. Too guilty. She’s such an evil bitch.”

  “He loves you—he’s said it a thousand times.” Sienna put her arm around Sam.

  “I know, I know.” Sam pulled away and threw a pillow at Sienna. “But damn her! She could try and change his mind, try to seduce him.” Sam sat against the headboard and reached for her cigarettes on the nightstand. “I wish she’d croak.”

  “Maybe he plans to push her off the boat.”

  “Now that would be perfect—”

  The phone rang, interrupting Sam’s laughter. Sienna picked up the phone off the floor and handed it to Sam, straightening the antenna.

  “Hi, baby,” Jonathan’s voice whispered.

  “Don’t ‘Hi baby’ me. What are you doing, taking your wife on our vacation?”

  Sienna stood and gave Sam a thumbs-up gesture before closing the door behind her.

  “Sam, you know this trip was planned over a year ago. It’s for our anniversary and it’s a big deal—I mean to her—it’s a big deal for her, not me.”

  “Of course it’s a big deal to her—you’re taking her, for God sake!” Sam felt an internal gasket blow. “You said you were taking me and now you’re taking her? First, you bail on me during our week in the Bahamas after your stupid son calls, and now you’re bailing on this. You told me you couldn’t go through with the Valentine’s thing—that you wanted to be with me. Remember? You canceled that one, so why go through with this? Why, Johnny?”

  “That was different. I need to do this.”

  “You need to? And just why, exactly?” Blood angrily pumped through her arteries, causing her ears to buzz.

  “Sam, don’t. I need to do this gently. You don’t understand—”

  “No, Johnny. I don’t!” Her voice vibrated as she yelled. “One minute you want me, the next you don’t. You obviously want to be with her—explain away. You know, I’m getting pretty sick of this. Enough with your bullshit lies. Just how long exactly do you expect me to wait?”

  Jonathan didn’t respond. In the moment of awkward silence, a panic rose within her. She’d pushed too hard. “Johnny,” she whispered with her best baby voice. “Baby?”

  “Sam, I do need you … I do,” Jonathan said, his voice soft again. Sam heard his sigh. “But I can’t just turn my back on forty years. Not just like that, not—”

  “Yes, you can,” Sam snapped into the phone. “You can do anything you want.”

  “Sam. That’s not fair.”

  “Fair? You plan to spend ten days with her Highness and leave me alone … that’s fair? Wondering what you do, what you talk about … imagining her seducing you right back into the way things used to be. I had to arrange for time off work, remember?” She was ranting and she knew it. “Am I supposed to just ignore this now? Not worry?”

  “I’m not happy about it, believe me,” his voice rose with obvious annoyance, “but I need to make sure she has time to get used to things—”

  “She’ll get used to things when you’re gone. I don’t see how stretching this out is helping.”

  “I’m giving her time.”

  “You’re fricken giving her hope!” she screamed into the phone, shaking it with fury.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Yes, yes JW, you are. And I’m losing it.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this to him. “If you don’t want me, just say.”

  “Sam, damn it! Of course I want you. But just not so damn fast. I need a little more time to sort all this out.” He stopped yelling and Sam could hear his long sigh. “It’s complicated, you don’t understand, forty years is a long time. She deserves—”

  “She deserves exactly what she’s getting.”

  “Sam, you are being completely unreasonable.”

  “No, Johnny. You are unreasonable. And if you weren’t such a selfish asshole and she wasn’t such a fat, selfish bitch—”

  Click! Oh God. Sam stared at the disconnected phone in her hand. What had she done? She tried calling back, but his phone went straight to his answering service. She tried several more times.

  Pick up! Pick up, damn it! Pressure surged through her temples. She finally tossed the phone aside again, sat back on the bed and reached for her lighter, staring at the picture of Jonathan on her cluttered dresser. He was supposed to get her out of here. He was to be her savior. On the bulletin board above her desk were magazine cutouts of the beautiful clothes and jewelry she planned to have one day, one day when she was rich, one day when she wouldn’t have any worries. But now—thanks to his stupid wife—she really did have something to worry about.

  ***

  Ellen placed the last piece of clothing, a peach silk chiffon penoi
r, into her suitcase and carefully covered it with the protective garment-liner. Silk and candlelight would help rekindle their lost but not forgotten love. She zipped the case shut with the satisfaction that she had done it. Jonathan was staying. And she was going away with him. Ten days. Ten glorious days to make their marriage work. When he hadn’t come home those three nights after the Valentine gala, she realized how much she would lose if he actually left her.

  Ellen glanced at the suitcases on her bed and smiled, accepting her victory. He had behaved badly, and he knew it. He had finally come to his senses, and wasn’t that what she wanted all along? Even though he had been busy these past two weeks and they barely had time to talk, he had been home—every night. She picked up the phone to call Weston, their driver, to come for their suitcases. She hung up and as she opened her purse, the phone rang.

  “How’s the blushing bride?” the familiar voice in the receiver asked. “And how’s the packing going? Pack lots of sexy lingerie?”

  Ellen blushed. “Patty!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Patty said. “Well, I hope you have a wonderful and romantic trip. Where are you staying?”

  “The Sandy Lane Resort—considered a favorite hideaway for royalty and celebrities. And the Rosenthals go all the time. They say it’s their favorite resort. Mrs. Z stays there, too, and raves about the service.”

  “Well, if it’s good enough for queens and Mrs. Z, it must be something.”

  “It is. We have the private villa with our own beachfront and a full staff, everything imaginable.”

  “A hot tub?”

  “Patty! It’s not that kind of trip.”