Elizabeth tried to regain her composure. She glanced out the window above the kitchen sink and watched Teddy and Sydney playing together in the back yard, enjoying the summer evening. The kids would be out of school next week, and Elizabeth was not sure how they would fill their days. Her hands were busy, rinsing the dishes, the hot water scalding her hands. The pain was a relief, as it disrupted the rage that was threatening to emerge. Okay, think positively, she told herself. Peter was considering the calendar, trying to be an active part of their lives. It seemed that he was trying. She needed to as well. "Nancy is having a gathering at her house on Saturday. Some big shindig for Archie's work people, and she invited us."
"So?"
"Well, I really wanted to go. This is a big step, being invited to her house."
"You have one conversation two weeks ago, and now you're in? What are you, her BFF now?" Peter scoffed.
"Why do you say it like that?"
"That woman is cold and calculating. She's domineering and degrading. I don't understand why you want to be her friend or care what she thinks."
"She's not that bad."
"Yeah, right."
"No, really, she's not. I think she's misunderstood. Everyone wants her to be their friend, but few people are a true friend to her. I think she thinks of me as having true-friend potential. Plus, it's not fair to complain about how she judges others and then judge her in the same way."
Peter shrugged. "Maybe. I don't see what she has to offer. I still don't understand why you care so much what she thinks. Why does it matter to you so much?"
Now it was Elizabeth's turn to shrug. "I don't know, it just does. It's like my chance to repeat high school, and get it right. You know, sit with the cool kids at lunch for a change." She closed up the dishwasher, perhaps with a little more force than necessary.
"You've got to stop living in the past. High school is long over Elizabeth. It's pretty sad that all these years later, you're still hung up on that."
"That's easy for you to say. You liked high school. You were popular."
"I just didn't care what people thought of me. I still don't. I cannot for the life of me fathom why it matters to you so much. I thought you were doing better with that. You seemed to be, but you haven't really changed at all, have you?" Peter's words shocked and hurt Elizabeth, despite the fact that she had been thinking the same thing about him.
In a small, hurt voice, she replied, "I'm trying. I really am. I just thought it would be fun to go and socialize while not working some PTA event for once."
"Then go."
"How am I supposed to go, if you're away?"
"Get a sitter. We would have had to get one to go together anyway. See if your mom will take the kids."
Elizabeth felt herself relax slightly. Peter was right. She had to stop thinking that, just because he was away, she had to do it all herself. That was part of what had gotten them into so much trouble in the beginning. She refused to delegate, instead playing the role of martyr. Agnes operated in much the same way, and Elizabeth hated it about her mother. She had not seen that she was doing it herself. Okay, maybe Peter had a point.
"I'll see if Isabella is available to watch the kids. She's sat for them enough that I think they'd be okay for the evening, don't you?"
Peter was engrossed in a story in the paper, and Elizabeth had lost his attention again. While his advice had actually been at least partially valuable, Elizabeth hated that she only had his attention for such brief periods. She also hated that she had been trying to change, but that he couldn't see it. She was trying, and had been trying. He didn't see it. She feared he never would. She had given herself a confidence boost by taking care of her appearance. She felt attractive and could even stand to look at herself in the mirror most days. She was almost able to walk into a room with her head up, instead of slinking in and heading right for the corner. Peter didn't understand that having someone like Nancy desire her friendship validated Elizabeth. It told her that she was a useful person. That she meant something. She often wondered how Peter did not need any external validation. She didn't think she would ever be able to understand that.
On the surface, she admired Peter's self-confidence. But with further probing, it was actually kind of disturbing. By not caring about what others thought about him, Peter was disconnected. This included being disconnected from Elizabeth. He operated in his own bubble, detached and apart. He didn't let others affect him, but he did not see the effect of his actions on others, either. And what Elizabeth needed most was connection. Growing up as virtually an only child, all Elizabeth ever wanted was to be a part of something. She thought marriage would be the ultimate partnership. Her own parents, Agnes and Thomas, though seemingly incompatible, were incapable of surviving without each other. Their relationship was dysfunctional and symbiotic, but they were absolutely two parts of a whole.
Even now that there was a more even splitting of the work in the house, Elizabeth and Peter were not really partners. They still did not fit together correctly. She felt that the best way to describe their relationship was the book, 'The Missing Piece' by Shel Silverstein. But still, after all this time, after eleven years together, Elizabeth was still trying to make the pieces fit together. She was not strong enough now, and was not sure if she would ever be strong enough to roll on her own.
Peter left for his trip the next day, without ever really revisiting or finishing the conversation. This bothered Elizabeth, that they never really finished a conversation because he always drifted away before she was done. Despite all of the progress they had made, Elizabeth still wondered if they would make it. She wondered if it would have been better to cut her losses eighteen months ago, rather than putting in all this work, still only to fail. At least, if the marriage failed, at this point she could say she tried, right? Would people know what sacrifices she had made to try and make her marriage work? She hadn't just given up, as much as she had been tempted. God, if anyone ever found that out, that would be the ultimate mortification. Thankfully, that secret, that whole weekend, was buried, never to see the light of day.
In the meantime, she could keep trying. She was Agnes' daughter after all, which meant a stubbornness and resolve like no other. While she would try not to cut her nose off to spite her face, as her mother often did, she could hang tough, at least for a while longer. She would give her children a home with two loving parents for as long as she could. She would make sure her children felt loved and that they belonged. They would grow up knowing that she believed in them, and that they could believe in themselves. She didn't think the household was unpleasant for the kids to live in currently. She hoped she would be able to keep it that way.
She sent Isabella a quick text, and her neighbor's daughter responded almost immediately that she was available and willing to sit for the kids Saturday night. Elizabeth would have to be home by midnight, but she did not think that would be a problem. Five or six hours of socializing would certainly be enough for Elizabeth. Nancy was delighted when Elizabeth texted her that she would be attending the soiree. Elizabeth even had a relatively new dress that was quite flattering. Things were coming together.
When the day of the party arrived, Elizabeth wanted to kick herself. She stood, staring at herself in the mirror, clad in only her bra and underwear. What was she thinking? There was no way in hell she could walk in there by herself. Everyone who was anyone in town would probably be there. And who was she to attend? She must have been delusional to think that she could drive over to Nancy's behemoth house in the most posh neighborhood, park her dilapidated minivan, and waltz in solo. She was an idiot for ever even considering doing this.
Sydney ran into the room, disregarding the closed door. "What are you doing Mommy?"
Elizabeth sighed. "Trying to get ready to go out. Remember I told you that Isabella is babysitting you tonight?"
"Oh yeah. Are we getting pizza?"
"Sure, I'll leave money so Isabella can order you one." Elizabeth slid her
dress on over her head and smoothed it down. She turned to face her daughter. "How does this look?"
Sydney smiled, an angelic combination with her blue eyes and light brown curls. "Fine." She was just like her father. Unaware of the blow she had dealt her mother, the cherub continued, "Where are you going to?"
"A party at Mrs. Beemer's house."
"I'll bet you're the prettiest one there." And with that, Syd meandered out of the room, showing just a little more attention than her father seemed capable of.
Elizabeth looked in the mirror. The jersey dress was perfect for Elizabeth. The halter neck showed off her newly tanned arms, recently toned from all the yoga classes. The wide waistband showed her narrow mid-section. The white diagonal stripes on black were crisp and classic and Elizabeth had felt iconic when in the dressing room. But no matter how good she felt in her dress, no matter how good her make-up or hair looked, she did not have the chutzpah to do this. And Elizabeth knew it. And it almost killed her. No matter how far she'd come, she hadn't come far enough to do this. She sat down on her bed, and put her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. Peter was right. When would she stop caring, and have the confidence in herself to walk into a stupid room alone?
The beeping of her phone stopped Elizabeth's downward spiral. A text message from Julia, asking if she was going to Nancy's. This could be Elizabeth's salvation. If she could go with Julia and her husband, then her problem would be solved. Elizabeth texted her back that she was going solo since Peter was away, and did they want to carpool? With a renewed possibility of hope, Elizabeth blew out her hair, taking care to straighten it so it hung down sleekly on her back. She accessorized with big red baubles on her thin wrist, and dangling from her ears. She used primer, as well as foundation, and her skin looked youthful and fresh. Red patent-leather open-toed wedges completed the outfit, as Elizabeth waited anxiously for her phone to beep again. Elizabeth breathed an audible sigh of relief when Julia finally replied that she would pick Elizabeth up at seven. The gods seemed to be smiling on Elizabeth. Everything, for once in her life, was falling into place.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: June 16, 2012
Elizabeth was not prepared for the extravagance that was the Beemer's. She knew they had money. She never realized how much. "Holy crap," she whispered to Julia, as they were being escorted to the big tents set up in the back yard. There were white paper lanterns festooning the tents, and mason jars filled with white hydrangeas and the most enormous pale pink roses Elizabeth had ever seen. There was catering staff in white gloves and starched shirts with black bow ties passing through with trays of chilled flutes of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
Julia returned the sentiment, "Holy crap is right. I had no idea."
Julia's husband, Mitch, chimed in. "How could you have no idea? He's third generation owner of Super Shop 'n More. Did you think they lived in a shack?" He laughed and shook his head, apparently amused at the deer-in-headlights expressions on Julia and Elizabeth's faces.
Elizabeth whispered, afraid someone would overhear her fawning or see her gawking, "This is nicer than my wedding!"
"Tell me about it. Our reception was at the Elks club." Julia straightened up and smoothed her skirt, breaking their huddled position. "We have to act classy, or they'll realize we have no business being here."
"Right, right." Elizabeth squared her shoulders. The night air was still hot and humid. Elizabeth opened up her purse and took out a hair clip, and twisted her hair up. The cascading pile on the top of her head, in addition to her blunt bangs made Elizabeth feel like Audrey Hepburn, á la Breakfast at Tiffany's. It made her feel slightly more elegant. After all, Peter always preferred her hair up to down. She shook her bracelets back down on her wrist, and smiled as Mitch snagged two glasses of champagne off of a passing tray and handed them to Julia and Elizabeth. Julia held up her glass and Elizabeth clinked it. "Here's to Nancy for being loaded," Elizabeth offered.
"Here's to Mitch driving our drunk asses home tonight!" Julia countered.
And with that, Elizabeth sipped her champagne, wondering if anything could be more perfect. Mitch faded into the background, talking with some people he knew from work. Elizabeth and Julia mingled, and ate. And Julia drank. Elizabeth did not drink much anymore, and didn't want to get sloppy drunk at such a nice event. After a while, Mitch re-appeared to claim his wife. Elizabeth watched with some envy as he led her by the hand out onto the dance floor. Julia was stumbling slightly, but Mitch was there, supporting her. She wished Peter were here to dance with her. Then she remembered that the last time they had danced had been their wedding. Peter didn't dance, and really didn't care that Elizabeth loved to dance. In a former life, she had wanted to be on Broadway, singing and dancing. He didn't care that she had danced for fifteen years before she met him. He hated dancing. She was sure if he could have gotten away without dancing even at their wedding he would have. It was all about what he wanted, never about what made her happy. And it would always be that way. With that bitter realization, that yet another one of her dreams had vaporized, she grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing tray and quickly downed it.
Elizabeth could not stand to watch Mitch and Julia anymore, jealousy threatening to tear her apart, and she went inside the house to use the restroom. After going to the bathroom off the kitchen, Elizabeth spent a minute just staring at herself in the mirror. She looked great, at least for her. Why didn't Peter notice her more? Why didn't he want to make her happy? Why didn't it matter more to him that he didn't make her happy? She shook her head, reapplied her lip gloss, which promised to plump and firm, and exited the bathroom. She was still fussing with her purse, putting her lip gloss away, and didn't see that someone was trying to enter as she was exiting. She ran smack into a solid chest, dropping her purse, scattering its contents all over the polished cherry floor.
"Sorry, sorry," she mumbled, squatting down to try to collect her belongings. Thankfully, she was not carrying tampons or anything like that to embarrass her. She saw that the man she had plowed into was also squatting down, making quick work of replacing her purse's contents. She finally looked up, and saw who had been in her way.
"Oh, hey, Jack." Her face flushed as she stood up. He likewise resumed a standing position, holding onto her elbow to steady her as she wobbled. Heels and champagne were not a good combination, especially when literally running into such a surprise visitor. Jack looked uneasy to see her. It was Elizabeth who should feel uneasy. She dropped her head, and stared at her toes.
"How – are – things?" He was definitely hesitant in speaking to her.
"Okay, I guess."
Jack cocked his head to the side. "Okay?"
"No, really, things are good. I'm just flustered at seeing you here, and almost knocking you over. God, I shouldn't be allowed out in public. I'm such a disaster. You know that. I'm just lucky I'm not wearing my dinner down the front of me."
That statement, meant to lighten the mood, only made it heavier as Jack could not help himself but glance up and down Elizabeth's body, pausing at her breasts to drink in the sights. Elizabeth was immediately uncomfortable, and crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest. They were standing awkwardly in the hall, facing each other. Elizabeth seemed unable to move. She could not stop looking at Jack. She wished she could turn away, but she couldn't. God, he really was handsome. His eyes just drew her in. They just stood there, neither one able to speak, neither one wanting to move. One, then another, then another person stepped between them trying to access the bathroom. Finally, Jack broke free of Elizabeth's gaze, and moved, saying, "Let's go find a place to sit and talk."
Elizabeth nodded. As much as she didn't want to have this talk, she needed to. She followed him through the kitchen, into a sitting room, and outside onto a small veranda. There were a few smaller tables set up, with lanterns providing a soft glow. Arms still folded across her chest, she accepted as he pulled a chair out for her and sat down. Why was he here? How could this be happening? Why now,
when things finally seemed to be coming together for Elizabeth?
Jack broke the silence. "Are you mad at me?"
That was not what Elizabeth expected him to lead off with. She shook her head in confusion. How could she explain that she was mortified about what she had nearly done? He was the only soul who knew that she had wanted to die. That she had given up all hope, and tried to lay down and freeze to death. It was her rock-bottom moment, and he had witnessed it. What if he said something to someone?
She started fidgeting with some greens that were decorating the table. "That weekend was the worst time in my life."
"Gee, thanks."
Elizabeth looked up at his teasing blue eyes and could not help but smile slightly. "No, I mean, I never told anyone – not even Peter– and I don't want anyone –" She broke off, dropping her head. In a low voice, she finally continued, "I'm not very proud that I tried to commit suicide. And that I couldn't even do that right."
"Don't talk like that! You dying that night would have been a tragedy like no other."
"You know, before, I would have not believed you, but you’re right."
Jack wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. "What makes you say that?"
"About two weeks after I, um, my, whatever, that weekend, my daughter's appendix ruptured. She almost died. Peter was asleep and didn't hear her crying. He's terrible in a crisis anyway. He wouldn't have known what to do, and most likely Sydney would have died that night."
The gravity of her statement hung in the thick summer air.
"You know, in all this time, I've just been trying to put that weekend out of my mind and never think about it. Some parts of it are really pretty splotchy. But I never thought about the fact that if I hadn't made it to your doorstep, then not only would I have died, but my daughter most likely would have as well."
"What do you mean the weekend is splotchy?"
"I'm not sure how to describe it. I don't know if I had a kind of mini-nervous-breakdown or something, or if I was in shock, but things are weird and confusing and all jumbled up when I think about that weekend."
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