The Woman He Married

by Ford, Julie

  Nice try. Josie crossed her arms. “If Lydia, Amy, and Denton all want to go, why wouldn’t I?” she said, trying to look adamant rather than disconcerted.

  He gave her a weary look. “What difference does it make now?” he said. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point,” she continued, but stopped when he checked his watch, got up, and slipped his arms into his jacket. “Where are you going? It’s ten-thirty.”

  “Out,” he said as he walked over to her and dropped a light kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for getting the dinner together. Everything was real nice.”

  She reached out to touch him as he slipped by.

  “But… I need to talk to you,” she said in his wake.

  “Not now,” he called back, strolling down the hall toward the door, grabbing his car keys from the side table on the way. “Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”

  Josie watched incredulously as he disappeared down the hall. Am I just going to stand there and let him go? Yes, I am. She felt like the proverbial frog that had found itself helplessly trapped in a boiling pot after the heat had risen so slowly, the poor creature didn’t realize what was happening. Only, instead of slowly simmering to death, somewhere along the way John had quit listening, while she had stopped caring enough to make him.

  Leaning against the doorframe, Josie closed her eyes until she heard the sound of the door shut behind him.

  He was gone.

  Chapter 4

  Josie paced the wood-planked floor backstage of the third-grade production. Checking her watch, she wondered what could be keeping Gina. The rain had been falling all day but Josie knew the weather could only be one cause for her friend’s tardiness—there was something at work Brian needed that she wasn’t able to finish yesterday because, well, she was at Josie’s.

  Dressed in a Ralph Lauren snap-down print blouse with coordinating corduroy jacket, and her new favorite Lucky Brand Jeans, Josie felt she was dressed nice but practical, perfect for wrangling third graders. Or, maybe not…

  All around her were eight-year-olds, some nervous and looking like they may heave their supper at any time, while others were so excited that they were literally bouncing off the walls. Which up until now, Josie had thought, was just a figure of speech.

  She checked her watch again.

  “What’d I miss?” Gina was out of breath. “There’s not enough parking in this damn place. I had to hike three blocks.” Dressed in green cords, white button-down, and a denim jacket, she almost tripped over a little girl in a carrot costume as she bounded in. Nervous before, the little actor now looked like she was about to cry.

  “So—did you get everything done?” Gina asked, passing the little carrot a piece of candy out of her pocket while putting her finger to her lips and saying, “Shhhh.”

  “I think so. Two crazy days in a row,” Josie said. As if involvement in the third-grade production wasn’t enough, now she had to get ready for this trip. For a mother of three, getting ready to go out of town wasn’t just a matter of packing. If it were that simple, moms everywhere would take more time away from their families. Truth be told, it was just plain easier to stay home.

  “Sampson needed more dog food,” Josie said, thinking about how their Sheepdog couldn’t just eat ordinary food, he needed special food. “I had to drive clear across town. Honestly, he’s a dog for heaven’s sake, and he eats better than three-quarters of the people in China, and also gets better health care than most American children.”

  “Um, huh,” Gina agreed.

  “With the exception of some leftovers from the dinner party, there wasn’t much food in the house, so I needed to grocery shop.” Josie took a breath. “Then, Beth needed new tights for dance because evidently, Puffer-Lee-Anderson thought wearing tights while sliding would help them go down faster, which they did, resulting in a serious tear upon landing.” Puffer-Lee-Anderson was Beth’s teddy bear and best imaginary friend. “Bobbie needed supplies for a book report, due before we return, and I had to do laundry and pack.”

  Gina drew her brows together.

  But, because Josie had mistakenly told her friend about Trisha and the bracelet, she knew Gina wasn’t only asking if she’d accomplished all of her daily tasks. “And, no, I didn’t talk to John,” she added. When Gina’s eyebrows went up with that why-am-I-not-surprised look, Josie said, “He left before I had a chance. And, what was I supposed to say? ‘Where’s my bracelet?’ I mean, if it’s supposed to be a surprise then it would be selfish of me to ruin it.” She tried to pretend she didn’t know how ridiculous she sounded.

  Anyway, the more she thought about it, the more she’d convinced herself that there was simply no way he could be, well, you know. After all, she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d ignore or even put up with that kind of behavior. I’m not my mother, she kept telling herself. The truth was, she really didn’t want to know.

  Gina opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again when Pamela Sanders swept across the stage, calling out “Places, places, everyone!” Shooting Gina a, glad-you-finally-decided-to-show-up look, she snatched a bowl of plastic sprouts from a boy who was about to use them as weapons.

  Peeking out through the edge of the curtain once more before the play began, Josie saw parents mingling as a man with video equipment set up his camera to tape the performance for later sale at an obscene price to doting parents.

  Sitting front and center, she saw the Montgomerys, flanked by Andy on one side and John on the other, with Patrick and Amy—checking her watch—behind them. Josie’s mother, Carol, looking perfect, as usual, in her Karen Kane sheer animal print blouse with black camisole, lightweight black wool slacks, and boots, had her arm draped over Beth’s seat and was running her fingers through Jack’s blond hair, seated next. Her meticulously styled hair was cut short around her ears and neck and longer on the top. It was dyed to its natural color, similar to Josie’s. Carol had always vowed never to have a gray hair.

  Gloria, Josie’s mother-in-law, sat on one side of Andy’s twin daughters with Lydia on the other. A heavyset woman, her once blonde hair graying mostly in the front, she was dressed in tan slacks and a navy silk blouse. She looked nice, but next to Josie’s designer mom’s clothing, one could tell that Gloria’s outfit probably came from Penny’s or Sears, maybe even Wal-Mart.

  Trisha had shown up alone and positioned herself directly in front of John.

  Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, John was talking to Trisha who was sitting sideways, facing up at him. From up on the stage, Josie could see that Trisha was wearing a red wrap-sweater that was cut low, exposing the impressive bulge of her breasts. She could only imagine what John’s view must be from up there.

  Looking down at the front of her own blouse, Josie exhaled what was left of her vanity. Although she’d never considered herself lacking in the cleavage department, her breasts had expanded and contracted three times with pregnancy and breast-feeding—they just weren’t as perky as they once were. She watched their exchange a moment longer, feeling the trepidation regarding her marriage resurface as she observed John’s face and the way he looked to be hanging on Trisha’s every word. He never seemed to hear Josie anymore, much less appear interested in what she had to say.

  “I see the gang’s all here.” Gina was looking over Josie’s shoulder. “And, someone is wearing her ‘high priced hooker’ attire as usual.” She scoffed. “Those ‘cannonballs’ can’t possibly be real.”

  Josie would like to think so too, but unfortunately she was pretty sure they were, in fact, authentic.

  “Places, everyone!” Pamela sang again, sweeping across the stage. “Places. Now remember that after the performance I want all the volunteers to go home and be with their families; just leave everything for now, it’ll still be here in the morning.”

  An eerie calm fell over the children and adults backstage as the lights in the auditorium dimmed and the stage was suddenly flooded with light. Lori Wat
son’s voice welcomed everyone to the production. Josie wondered how Bobbie was doing on the other side of the stage. Is he nervous, excited?

  And then, something didn’t seem right, or there was something she was forgetting. She had a sudden urge to check on him when a girl dressed in a sweet little ruffled dress and mary-jean shoes appeared next to her. “Do I look all right?” the girl playing Jessica asked.

  From the auditorium Josie heard Lori thanking everyone involved. Alarm instead of pride unexpectedly raked over her when she heard her name mentioned as the costume designer.

  Straightening the large bow perched on top of the little actor’s ringlets, Josie said, “You look real fine.”

  The girl playing the lead was Lori Watson’s daughter—of course. She had one of those shi-shi southern names that sounded like three last names all running together like, Madison Mason Watson, or Maven Wilson Watson. Who knew?

  Unfortunately, one must be “connected” in order to participate in anything around here. Much to John’s dismay, Bobbie wanted to be an actor—among other things— when he grew up, so Josie had to volunteer just to get him a part.

  The music started to play. Josie shook off her uneasy feeling and sent Jessica out onto the stage. The curtains opened to the scene of a dining room, the carrots surrounding Jessica, who was staring at them with exaggerated disgust. The narrator’s voice started…

  “Jessica Smith didn’t like carrots. But the carrots liked her and thought it unfair.”

  Josie and Gina readied the okra, who were up next. One of the little actors was complaining that he didn’t want to play a slimy old pod—his mom obviously didn’t have the right connections. “Suck it up, short stuff,” Gina said, pulling the costume down over his head.

  Out on stage the carrots were saying, “Jessica Smith, you must like us. Eating your veggies will make you feel good.” They began dancing around Jessica, who shook her head. The carrots danced off the stage as the spinach plant came on.

  The narrator spoke. “The spinach plant was cunning and wise. He walked up to Jessie and stared in her eyes.”

  The spinach plant leaned towards the girl. “Eat up your veggies each day for a week, and we’ll arrange a special treat.”

  Jessica shook her head again. Off went the spinach plant.

  “I feel like we’re missing something. Did you…” Josie paused when she couldn’t come up with the thought teasing the edge of her brain.

  “Did I what?” Gina asked, herding the sprouts out onto the stage.

  “If Jessica could throw veggies out, the top of her list would be Brussels sprouts.”

  The sprouts began their dance around her, singing, “Eat up your veggies each day for a week, and we’ll arrange a special treat.”

  Jessica put a finger to her chin, thinking. The sprouts danced off the stage.

  “I don’t know,” Josie said as she pushed the cauliflower out.

  “Jessica, I’m a beautiful collie. To not eat me would be terrible folly. And if you eat your veggies all week, you’ll end up with a special treat.”

  Jessica nodded, and the stage filled with all the vegetables, all dancing.

  Gina gave her friend a thoughtful look. “What could we possibly be missing?”

  “Jessica ate her veggies each day, and showed her Mom she could put them away. And then there came the end of the week—she wondered about her special treat,” the narration continued.

  Out on stage, the finale loomed. The production seemed to be moving along smoothly. From the audience, Josie could hear the oohs and aahs of proud parents but she felt only slightly better.

  Josie swallowed down her anxiety and let herself hope that after the final curtain call, and everyone had been thoroughly wowed with her costume-designing abilities, John would be more relaxed and they would finally have a chance to talk. Then, after he dispelled all of her concerns over his late nights, the bracelet and whatnot, as simple misunderstandings, they would…

  “Still, I feel like I’ve forgotten something.” Josie tried again to identify the source of her unease, but somehow she couldn’t seem put her finger on it.

  “You have just had two insane days and a cheating…um, well—to deal with. No wonder you feel like you’re missing something.” Gina smiled uncomfortably as she checked the children to make sure they were in the correct order for the final scene.

  “All the week she’d done her best and Mom and Dad were most impressed. And then she jumped up to her feet when she saw the special treat.”

  Josie felt her pulse start to race in anticipation of Bobbie’s turn on stage.

  As the bananas appeared from the opposite side of the stage, Jessica said, “Oh! Who will help me peel the bananas?” Josie watched for the tops to open and…

  “God, almighty!” she said as all the blood drained from her face. “Did you…” Josie’s throat closed up, making it impossible for her to finish her sentence.

  “What?” Gina followed Josie’s gaze over to where the bananas were standing, about to open. Then, taking in a sizeable breath, she said, “We forgot, didn’t we?”

  “We have to do something!” Josie’s voice was shrill as she tried to think of a way to put off the inevitable. “We need a distraction.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Gina said with a snort. “You want me to waltz out there and rip off my top while you tackle the bananas and roll ’em off the stage?”

  “Gina!” Josie wasn’t laughing. “Be serious!” she said as she started to make a move toward the stage.

  “Wow, hold on there! Maybe someone else fixed the color?” Gina pulled Josie back behind the curtain.

  “Maybe? Maybe?” Josie couldn’t leave this to a maybe. But looking back onto the stage she could see…

  It was already too late.

  * * * *

  Holding her breath, Josie had her fingers crossed so tight her knuckles were turning white. Barely able to watch, she had one eye closed, as the skins started to roll down. Please don’t be pink, please don’t be pink, please don’t…

  When the pink at the top began to materialize under the glaring stage lights, Josie felt her adrenaline pumping as her fight or flight reflexes kicked in. She was already packed, so maybe if she ducked out now she could get home, grab her suitcase, and ride off into the sunset before anyone realized she’d gone. Or she could just keep holding her breath until she passed out, creating a diversion, and giving Gina time to dispose of the costumes.

  The audience let out a sigh, followed by a few random claps, when the yellow skins turned down revealing Bobbie, Luke, and Brandon’s smiling faces.

  “Now all the bananas were ready to eat, proud to be the special treat.”

  Gina stayed quiet for a moment, listening. “I think that we might be in the clear,” she said, squeezing Josie’s arm.

  Josie let out the air she’d been holding captive in her lungs, allowed her body to relax, and her fingers to untwist.

  But her relief wasn’t to last.

  A small disturbance ensued from the audience. “Do you see? Looks like… Good Lord!” The voices were muddled but Josie could tell that something was definitely happening. Peeking out through the slit in the curtain, she saw confused, or maybe angry faces, and pointing fingers. Lori Watson left her seat, heading to the other side of the stage, fists clenched, eyes narrowed.

  Josie closed her eyes and hung her head, knowing that they were not in the clear.

  “What’s happening?” Gina asked, biting a nail. She actually looked nervous herself.

  Josie didn’t answer. She just looked across the stage as Lori’s angry face appeared on the other side. One hand pointing at the boys, the other balled into a tight fist at her side, Lori spoke to Pamela. As she watched the exchange, Josie could feel the heat of Lori’s anger pulsating across the stage. She and Gina stood frozen while Pamela timidly pointed in their direction, and Lori turned her infuriated gaze on them.

  The boys made their way backstage, and Josie watched as thei
r excitement melted to fear with Lori’s demeanor. Then, turning on her heel, she stomped off, heading straight for Gina and Josie.

  “She’s coming,” Josie said, and grabbed Gina’s hand, squeezing it hard.

  Josie tried to think. What can I say? Should I say that I’m not the one who painted them and blame the other mom? “She’s the one who painted them pink.” Or pretend like I don’t know what the problem is? “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.” Maybe I could turn it back on Lori, “Get your mind out of the gutter; only a sick, twisted person would see a penis when clearly it’s a banana.” But the increasing sound of hushed voices from the auditorium told Josie that she really had no hope of minimizing, much less, denying the fact that she’d screwed up.

  Amidst the growing commotion out in the audience, up on stage, the dance continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Josie’s despair deepened as the narrator read.

  “So whenever young Jessie got veggies to eat, she knew it would lead to a special treat…”

  And as the child dressed like a white jar burst on to the stage and bowed, causing marshmallow cream to spill, which was supposed to be a good laugh, Josie knew no one in the audience was paying attention to what she thought would be the crowning moment of the play. All of her hard work, and for what? All people were going to remember was that their children were dancing with penises.

  Then, just as the actor playing the cream gave the audience a befuddled look, Lori burst through the back stage door behind Josie and Gina.

  Josie’s tired body started to ache. Why?

  “I want to talk to you!” Lori’s voice was low but her rage still managed to vibrate through Josie’s ears. Turning, she saw Lori pointing an angry tense finger toward the stage door.

  Now she finally decides she wants to talk to me, Josie mused.

  Once the three of them emerged into the empty corridor, and before the door had a chance to click shut, Lori started in, saying, “I always knew you were a troublemaker, Josie McClain, but ruining a third-grade play just to get a few laughs… Well, that’s pushin’ it even for you.” Her brown beady eyes were darker than usual.