This affair, she felt, was her last chance to pull together some semblance of the sparkling social life she had always imagined for herself but never quite managed to achieve. She still couldn’t understand why: she knew so many women and she tried always to be nice, but somehow even when she managed to get an invitation out, she and Leonard seemed always to be on the fringe rather than the center of conversations. And they were rarely asked back.
Lisa blamed it on Leonard. After all, how interesting was the conversation of a suburban dermatologist? And even among suburban dermatologists, Leonard must rank in the bottom ten percent. It wasn’t that he talked about embarrassing things, postules or acne vulgaris. It was rather that he talked about dull things or nothing at all. She should have married a real doctor. There were times when she wanted to kick Leonard and beg him either to shut up or to say something interesting. But most often he left the burden of social conversation to her, so she chattered on, always feeling nervous and inadequate. She couldn’t really compete with the talks of trips to Monte Carlo or cruises up the Aswan Valley. And she had no glittering career. Talking about clothes had been appropriate when she ran a shop, but as she continued, in desperation, to talk about them – now that she was no longer in the business – she was sometimes afraid that she, too, had turned boring. Dr and Mrs Leonard Saperstein, town bores.
But how could that be? Clothes play such an important part in every woman’s life. Unlike men, women had outfits that were markers, milestones in the progress of their existence, and they never forgot them. Every girl remembered exactly what dress she’d worn to the prom, and even if she didn’t have a hundred photos documenting the event, successful or unsuccessful as the evening may have been, she could tell you exactly what she had worn. Just as every woman could describe her wedding gown, down to the smallest detail. Men, of course, couldn’t describe their (usually) rented tuxedos and there was no need to. But imagine a woman renting a prom gown or a wedding dress! Lisa knew that Catholic women even remembered their First Communion dresses, just as Tiff would remember her bat mitzvah dress for as long as she lived. Clothing was important. That’s why Lisa respected her sister so much, even if she didn’t always ‘get’ her sister’s designs. Because to Lisa, Karen was doing something important. Creating clothes and magically making money at it, two important things that Lisa had failed to do. No wonder Karen had no time to call her. Lisa understood her sister’s life was busier and better than her own. Karen was too busy being interviewed and getting even more famous and rich.
At this point, money was a central issue of Lisa’s life, running like a warp thread through the fabric of her day-to-day existence. To be more accurate, it wasn’t the money, but the lack of it, that had become such an issue. In the early days of her marriage, Leonard had just paid the bills and given her as much cash as she needed, but it had been years since that liberal policy had been in effect. Lisa sighed. One of the painful realities of her life now was that she had never appreciated how good it had been when it had been good. She had just assumed there would always be money for all the clothes and lunches and manicures and haircuts that she would ever need, or that her daughters ever needed. Now it was disorienting to find that those things she’d considered necessities were luxuries that she might actually have to do without. Lisa wasn’t given to introspection, but in some numb way she wished that she had been able to savor all that she had back then, before she had lost it.
Now Leonard’s constant refrain was that she had to ‘cut back.’ It was such a medical phrase. He made it sound like a surgical procedure. And Lisa felt it was a kind of amputation, because without her daily regimen of shopping, lunching, charity ‘work,’ and beauty treatments she was left with too much time on her hands. She’d idly thought of a job at Saks – maybe in a designer boutique – but the pocket money and discount wouldn’t make up for the way her skin would crawl when she’d have to wait on some woman she knew. Lisa had never wanted a job, and even now the idea of showing up at an office to be under the rigid hand of some difficult boss while she was expected to perform monotonous routines was nightmarish. Yet there was something even worse looming on the horizon. Twice now, Leonard had suggested that she take over his office: in his constant cut-back monologue, this had been an option he pressed on her. Then he could save the salary he paid to Mrs Beck. But being with Leonard all day, reduced to the cliché of the doctor-and-wife-suburban-practice-team, was more than she could bear. It actually made Lisa feel claustrophobic, as if she’d been buried alive. She had put her Joan-and-David-shod foot down.
Unfortunately Leonard had put his foot down, too. He couldn’t force her to take Mrs Beck’s job, but there would be little of the luxury and display that Lisa had counted on at the bat mitzvah. Leonard had given her a clear choice: she could work with him and they could spend more on the affair or she chould choose not to and they would spend a lot less. So Lisa had thrown all her creativity into making the most out of what she could, while retaining her empty freedom.
Sometimes she wondered why things had gone so wrong for her, and how Karen had managed to do so well. But, she reminded herself, Karen had always been the smart one. Karen’s success didn’t surprise Lisa at all. It just seemed to Lisa that things always came easily to her sister.
What did surprise her was Karen’s marriage. After all, she, Lisa, was the pretty one and Karen probably wasn’t very easy to live with. How she had managed to attract a man as good-looking, charming, and exciting as Jeffrey was the puzzle. But remembering their on-again, off-again courtship and how Jeffrey had kept Karen at a distance until her break-out year made it seem to Lisa that Jeffrey had only gotten serious once Karen had gotten a name. Lisa wondered, idly, whether Jeffrey ever cheated on Karen, but he didn’t seem to, or if he did he was very careful. Karen would have told her if she suspected anything, and Karen never had. After all, even if they hadn’t spoken much lately, they were still best friends, weren’t they? But why, Lisa asked herself now, did her elder sister always get everything? Wasn’t it the adopted one who was supposed to be messed up? Somehow Karen had managed to snag a great husband and a great career out of the air, while Lisa was losing her looks and her life was adding up to a big goose egg.
But now, each morning, she eagerly went to the mailbox to go through the RSVPs. She had a list that she had ranked by ‘Most Desirable,’ ‘Second Tier,’ ‘Family,’ and ‘Obligatory.’ There were many overlaps, of course (Karen, for example, was ‘Most Desirable’ as well as ‘Family’), but Lisa was hoping that if she kept the proportions right and managed the party properly it would yield her another chance at making it in the Five Towns social scene. It gave her hope.
Today, though, the mail was a disappointment. There was a refusal from Marian Lasker and her husband, the developer. Along with it came acceptances from Leonard’s cousin Morty, and a deadbeat of a patient, a chronic eczema-infected plumber who Leonard had insisted they put on the list. He and his whole flaky family were coming. Damn it, that meant four places gone! Disgusted, Lisa threw the RSVPs onto the table and got up to get dressed. But first she stopped in the bathroom to check herself out on Mr Scale.
For years Lisa hadn’t let her weight vary by more than three pounds. She did it through discipline and constant vigilance. Getting on Mr Scale had become the one part of her day that allowed her to still feel in control, to give her pride and a sense of achievement. Along with brushing their teeth, she had taught the girls to weigh themselves daily and for years they had all talked to Mr Scale. Even now, as she walked into the bathroom, Lisa superstitiously began her ritual in a baby-high voice. ‘Is Mr Scale going to be nice today?’ she asked aloud. ‘I was a very good girl, except for the soy sauce last night. But I didn’t have much.’ It was a game she had played with Stephanie and Tiff, until Tiff had gotten mad at her and wouldn’t play it anymore. Well, Tiff was mad most of the time now and she and her sister made Lisa’s life miserable. It was obvious that Tiff was jealous of Stephanie. Lisa could under
stand it: Stephanie was perfect. It must be difficult to have a sister so impossible to compete with. Thank God Karen wasn’t beautiful as well as successful, Lisa thought, and then immediately felt guilty. Now Mr Scale would probably punish her for her bad thought by making her fat. Well, Lisa could see the problem Tiff had, but what Lisa could not understand was why Tiff didn’t even try. Karen made the most of her looks. Tiff could do so much more with herself if only she would diet and accept some help from Lisa.
Lisa stepped on the scale and, sure enough, groaned to see the two pounds that had inflated her weight. At thirty-seven, she knew it was critical to keep her figure. She watched, terrified by what happened to women in their forties, and she was determined to keep her belly as flat and her flanks as lean as they had ever been. It was the goddamned soy sauce! It must be water weight from all that salt. Well, she’d have a fruit plate for lunch and dinner, and she’d do an extra class tomorrow at the gym. She looked in the mirror wall of the bathroom. Wasn’t her belly pooching out? Miserable now, she stomped over to the closet to pick out something that wouldn’t cling. The phone rang. She thought it might be Karen at last and went to it gratefully but when she lifted it up she was greeted by a stranger’s voice.
‘Mrs Saperstein?’
‘Yes?’
‘I am calling to talk to you about House and Garden magazine,’ the voice said breathlessly. In the past, you’ve been a subscriber and we were wondering …’ Shit! It was one of those interruptive, annoying, disappointing telephone salesmen. In one of his pointless cut-back moves Leonard had stopped all her magazine subscriptions. Now she just bought them at the inflated newsstand price behind his back. But Lisa would not let her exasperation show to the salesman on the phone.
‘How nice of you to call,’ she said sweetly. ‘I can’t tell you how interested in your magazine I am. I don’t know how I let it lapse, but we have been so busy.’ She could feel the man’s hope jump at the other end of the line.
‘Well I would like to …’
‘Before you say anything, would you mind holding on for a minute? I’m so interested but there is something here I just have to take care of.’ Without waiting for an answer, she laid the phone down. She went back to her closet and slowly began riffling through the clothes there. What would best cover her tummy? She began to hum Roy Orbison’s ‘Pretty Woman.’ She’d been restored to her good mood and wondered, only for a moment, how long the idiot on the phone would hold. Well, she’d outwait him. It wasn’t like she was expecting any important calls.
After a few minutes, she settled on cinnamon silk Perry Ellis slacks and a Michael Kors overshirt that Karen had given her. She rooted around at the bottom of her closet for the black platform Charles Jordan sandals she had bought at the beginning of the season. Lisa took a minute out to go back to the phone and picked it up to hear if the poor sucker was still waiting. The receiver was neither dead nor buzzing, so she laid it down again gently. She went into the bathroom and adjusted the water for her shower. Then she put her hair in a shower cap, and after clipping her toenails, checked the phone again. It was buzzing this time and she hung it up, turning on the answering machine so she could avoid the nincompoop’s call if he should decide to ring back.
It was only when she had finished showering, shut the water off, and stepped out of the shower that she heard the click of the machine and a voice beginning to talk. ‘Ah, hello? Lisa, are you there?’
It sounded like Jeffrey, her brother-in-law, but what would he be doing, calling her? Jeffrey never called her. Wet and dripping, Lisa made a beeline for the phone and snatched it off the hook.
‘Jeffrey?’ she asked.
‘Lisa, You are there. Great. I wanted to talk to you,’ he paused. Lisa waited. The pause lengthened.
‘I’m right here,’ she said. ‘What’s up?’
‘Well, a little of this and a little of that. Part of it is business, but part is family stuff. I tell you, I’m kind of worried about your sister.’
‘Really?’ Shit, he must be very worried to be calling me, Lisa thought. It wasn’t that they didn’t get along. It was more like she had always felt dismissed by Jeffrey, and his whole family. Even though the Kahns were actually from Westchester, it was typical Lawrence behavior. ‘What is it?’ she asked now.
‘Well, it’s a lot to go into over the phone. I wondered …’ he paused again and Lisa waited for him to speak. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you possibly get free for lunch? I’d really like to talk to you.’
Surprised and complimented, Lisa smiled and her voice reflected it. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’ll just have to make a few calls.’ Ha! Like there was a long list of people waiting to lunch with her.
‘Great,’ Jeffrey said. ‘Meet me at the Saint Regis at one. Can you make it in by then? You know where it is? Fifth Avenue and Fifty-Fifth.’
‘Ah, sure,’ she said brightly and thought that she’d have to reject the Perry Ellis slacks and upgrade to something a lot more Saint Regis-ish. Too bad she still hadn’t found the wine-colored shoes to go with the Donna Karan pantsuit. It would have been perfect. ‘I’ll be there,’ she purred.
‘Oh, and Lisa, could I ask another favor?’
‘Sure.’
‘Don’t mention this to Karen. Okay? It’s in her own best interest, I promise you.’
‘Sure,’ Lisa repeated easily, and then set the receiver gently on its hook. She felt a flutter of excitement in her chest. At last, she thought, she had someplace worthwhile to dress up for.
While her mother was preparing for lunch with her uncle, Tiff Saperstein had skipped her afternoon classes and was spending time at the Roosevelt Field Mall. It wasn’t one of the best malls, but it was big and far enough away from home so Tiff felt safe.
Trolling the mall was one of the few times that she felt it an advantage to be big and fat. She would be thirteen in just a few weeks, but because of her height and size she knew she looked a lot older. Not older and pretty, or older and sophisticated, the way Stephanie looked, but at least old enough so that no one would stop her and ask her why she was cutting school, or why she was there without parental supervision. Kids alone weren’t allowed in the mall. But she didn’t look like an average kid. She wasn’t cute, or skinny, or dressed in bicycle shorts and a cut-off tee. She wore an oversized men’s plaid shirt with a white T-shirt under it, baggy pants, and Converse sneakers. She knew she was invisible, and although she resented it a lot of the time, in places like this she had to admit it was very convenient.
She still had twenty-seven dollars left from her saved allowance, plus the extra ten-dollar bill she had taken from her father’s wallet this morning. If he ever noticed any money missing, Tiff knew he would blame her mother, not her. He’d never think of her. Nobody did.
Tiff put her hand up to her neck and, through the flannel, fingered the pearl necklace that her aunt had given her. Well, Tiff had to admit, Aunt Karen did think of her, but now Aunt Karen had given Stephie-the-bitch a job. It wasn’t so much that her sister had a job while she didn’t. Steph was really stupid – the work study program was one step away from Vo Tech. What bothered Tiff was the fact that Stephie would get to spend time with Aunt Karen every day. Tiff dropped her hand away from the necklace and strode across the tile floor of the mall to the Mrs Field’s Cookie store. The first thing she’d do was spend five dollars on macadamia white chocolate chip cookies. Then she’d go into the stores.
Tiff despised the casual specialty stores. The Limited. Benetton. Ann Taylor. None of their stuff was any good. She also hated the middle-market department stores. As far as Tiff was concerned, all that crap was for the birds. She knew what she liked and it wasn’t any cheesy Macy’s Own label. So, with a warm cookie stuffed in her mouth and the others melting in the bag, Tiff headed for Saks and the designer floor. She knew just what she liked and just where to find it. Because, when it came to shoplifting, why settle for anything less than the best?
About the time that Tiff was gobbli
ng down the Mrs Field’s cookies, Stephanie sat in the small white room reserved for coffee drinking and KInc employee lunches, gazing across the wide expanse of two white Formica tables at Tangela. Tangela was talking to her mother, or rather Defina was talking at her. Defina was keeping her voice low but Stephanie knew that angry- mother noise and could recognize it anywhere.
‘Have you punched more holes in your earlobes?’ Defina was asking. Tangela said something Steph couldn’t hear, and then asked for a loan.
‘What do you need to borrow money for?’ Defina asked.
‘A Hermès bag,’ her daughter said in a bored voice.
‘Tangela,’ her mother said with a sigh, ‘the “h” in “Hermès” is silent. It’s pronounced “ermez.”
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s French.’
‘We ain’t French.’
‘No, but that’s the classy way to say it.’
Tangela shrugged. ‘White people.’
Just then Karen walked in, overheard Tangela and laughed. ‘It’s actually worse than that,’ Karen said. ‘The dropped “h” in French is classy, but if the English drop an “h” it’s trashy. Go figure.’ Karen left with a cup of coffee, and though Steph couldn’t overhear exactly what Defina was finishing up with, after an elegant shrug from Tangela, Defina raised her voice. ‘You may think you’re too good to be a fitting model. If that’s so, then don’t take the booking. If you show up here, I want you ready to work, just like the other girls.’ Tangela shrugged again, and Defina just shook her head and strode out of the room.
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