Once they reached it, Valerie was shocked to see that he drove a late model Pontiac Grand Am. “Wow! This is your car?”
“No, it’s my Mom’s. She lets me hold it sometimes,” he chuckled, “when she’s in a good mood.”
Valerie couldn’t stop smiling. She thought surely she must look like a smiling idiot! She really liked Joe. He was so very polite, different from all the other boys she’d gone out with at school. Joe was much more polished and definitely smoother in his approach. His voice was low and mellow, and she loved the way he bobbed when he walked. It was so sexy.
“So, are you hungry?” asked Joe as he started the car. “Wanna get something to eat, go down to the park and hang out for a while?”
Valerie looked at the small clock display on the dashboard; the digits read 9:18. That meant she had just a little over an hour to get home…But subconsciously, she knew her parents were out and wouldn’t be home to know what time she arrived. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Let’s get some McDonald’s. We can stop at the one by Stoneman Douglas Park.”
•
Parker Playhouse had been packed to capacity for the production of Henry VIII. Theatergoers were now making their way to the strategically placed exits located all around the circular building. The place was abuzz with chatter of the production as everyone leisurely descended balconies and stairways.
Reginald suggested they remain in their seats until the crowd below had dwindled.
“I agree,” said Roger, running a hand through his hair. “Besides, it’s probably going to be a hell of a wait out there with the valets.”
“No, not really. They’re pretty quick here,” said Justine Roman. “When we came to see Othello we waited, what, five, ten minutes, Tracy?”
“Yeah, not even ten minutes,” Tracy answered with a brief nod. “But we can still wait until the crowd’s out of here, so we don’t have to stand in these lines for the next decade.”
As Roger and Reginald got into deep conversation about profit margins and quarter projections, Justine and Tracy exchanged conflicting opinions on Henry VIII.
While Justine appreciated the style in which the story was presented, giving great praise to the overall tone of the play, Tracy criticized the dreamy, fairy tale-like arrangement. In nearly twenty minutes of debating, the only thing they could agree on was the obvious talent displayed in the unique cast of players.
Once the building had virtually cleared, the foursome made their way to the valets, agreeing to meet at The Ivory Estate for drinks.
•
Speeding along Dixie Highway, Reggie and Tracy chatted about the play before Tracy grew serious. “Can we skip The Ivory tonight and go on home?”
“Ouch. That would be rather rude, wouldn’t it? We just told them we’d meet them there! Why, is something wrong?” Reginald’s eyes left the road briefly, shifting in concern.
“Well, there’s something we need to talk about…Privately. It’s about Olivia.”
“Oh,” said Reggie, refocusing on the road. “Sounds serious. Well, if it’s that important I guess we can call and let them know we changed our minds. Do you have your phone on you?”
Tracy hesitated, apprehensive. She finally shook her head. “No, on second thought, let’s go ahead and pop in for half an hour or so, at least. It actually has been a while since Justine and I got together. We can talk when we get home.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah…it can wait.”
•
The Ivory Estate was an exclusive, members-only recreational club. For a mere forty-eight hundred dollars per month, members enjoyed all manners of luxuries ranging from full-body massages and treatments to private, all-inclusive dinners and galas.
When they arrived, Reginald maneuvered the Navigator up the winding entrance, which resided at the top of a foothill elevation from the main road. “We’ll just have one drink and take our leave,” he said.
Turning the car over to the valet, Reggie slipped his arm around Tracy’s waist, and she snuggled against him. They made a striking couple as they walked into the building.
•
The Ivory, as they made their grand entrance, was a flurry of activity. Several groups and couples were enjoying the chic atmosphere, jazzy music, and mouthwatering cuisine.
Jack, the host, knew them on sight and promptly escorted them toward Roger and Justine, who had just taken their seats.
Justine spotted them first and discretely signaled Roger to cease his recitation of Reginald’s current dilemmas. He was filling her in on what little they had been able to discuss in hushed tones while she and Tracy had been busy debating the play, back at Parker Playhouse.
When they were all seated and their drinks ordered, they laughed and bantered about current affairs and gossip. People stopped by the table to offer greetings, some coming over to congratulate Roger on his winning bid for an exquisite antique bureau.
Charity auctions were frequently held at The Ivory. Knowing how his wife valued period detail and antiques, Roger had people keep tabs on forthcoming items so he could surprise Justine with trinkets and such. Although the nineteenth-century chiffonnier had cost him fifteen grand, he knew it was worth it just to see her eyes light up when she saw it. Seeing the tender appreciation with which she accepted such gifts warmed Roger’s heart.
•
Just over thirty minutes into their sitting, Tracy announced she was tired and that they would be leaving.
“But we just got here—you can’t go yet!” Justine exclaimed, sipping a martini. “We haven’t even had a chance to have our girl talk, Tracy, and it’s only quarter past eleven.”
“Oh, I know, darling, but how about we meet here tomorrow morning for tennis? I’m just really beat tonight, and this martini didn’t do a thing to help,” she said before downing the last of the potent liquor.
Examining a cuticle, Justine considered the tennis invitation. “You know what? Morning is no good. Let’s do an afternoon match, and afterward we’ll have lunch…We can meet here at, say, around twelve thirty? Is that good for you?”
“Twelve thirty’s fine. I’ll see you then. Bye for now. Take care, Roger.”
They exchanged hugs and handshakes before Tracy and Reginald made their grand exit, headed for home.
•
As her parents stood outside The Ivory Estate awaiting their car, Valerie was awkwardly scrambling up the stairs, thanking God with every step that she had beaten them home. Her head felt woozy and her body was sore, but she would not have traded the night’s events for a million dollars!
What she needed now was a nice warm bath to soothe her aching muscles, and then she’d get Lydia on the phone to share all the glorious details. She had to tell someone or burst, and Olivia was no doubt locked away in her room, as usual, oblivious to anything going on in the rest of the house.
Wait until Lydia hears this!
She had given her virginity to Joseph Ellison.
•
Later that night when they were in bed, Tracy held Reginald’s head to her breast after they had made love; tunes from their favorite soft-rock CD filtered through the room, faint background music.
Reggie brushed his lips lightly across the curve of her breast. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” His voice was low, and she knew he was minutes away from falling asleep.
With a prayer to God in the back of her liquor-hazed mind, Tracy decided to simply say what needed to be said. She took a deep breath. “Before I say this, I want to make a point of saying that I really do understand your concerns, Reggie. I mean, about the girls, and how working in Orlando hurt your relationship with them. I get it, so I can understand your being so disappointed.”
“I know you understand,” he replied. “I know you were listening that night at the bowling alley. That’s why I love you. You understand me.” He softly kissed her breast again.
“This is exactly why I need to tell you what’s going on with Olivia. I must say that I
had considered against it, but I’ve realized that—despite her objections—you have a right to know. You need to know.” Alarmed, Reggie attempted to raise his head, but she tightened her hold on him, discouraging it. “Now, honey, just listen…Olivia is pregnant.”
Silence. Only the soft, mellow music disturbed it.
Tracy waited for a reaction…Patiently.
Then, slowly, Reginald made another attempt to raise his head. Again, Tracy discouraged it. “I know it’s a shock, Reggie, but please keep your cool. She doesn’t want anyone to know. It’s all under control. We have an appointment on Monday to take care of it.”
Applying more force this time, Reggie pulled out of her arms and sat in the bed, frozen. Silence reigned for several minutes. Finally, he asked, “She doesn’t want anyone to know? Or just not me?”
Rising to a sitting position, Tracy touched his broad shoulders. “Reggie, you know she doesn’t want you to know. Let’s not act like that’s in question. For reasons that escape me, she refuses to drop her coldness toward you. Believe me, I’ve tried to talk with her about it…To get to the bottom of it, but it hasn’t worked at all.”
Reggie shook his head. “I can still see that pretentious little ten-year-old. She was so self-confident and headstrong, even then…And she loved me so much.” He paused. “How pregnant is she?”
“She’s about six weeks now. But believe me when I tell you that she can’t have this baby. Not now. Everything points to it. Not to mention that this Sean is nobody she needs to be tied to forever.”
“Sean…that’s the one you were telling me about the other day? Comes to pick her up all the time?”
“Uh-uh, that’s him. But he’s just a boy, and he’s put poor Olivia through more hell than not. He’s still wrapped up with his ex. I had to scare him away from here the last time.”
“I can’t believe she’s pregnant.” Reggie slowly left the bed and walked to the bathroom.
Tracy lay back against the pillows, relieved that she had gotten it off her chest. Now she just hoped he wouldn’t make an issue of it with Olivia. After all, the problem would be solved on Monday.
When he returned to the bed, Reggie asked, “How long have you known this?”
“Since…” she hesitated. “Since she first found out. She came to me almost immediately.” After a pause, she said, “If you don’t mind too much, Reggie, I think it best to keep this just between us. Don’t approach her about it. I think that, in time, the ice will melt and she’ll share this experience with you when she’s comfortable.”
As they settled in for sleep, Reggie held Tracy close. He didn’t know what disturbed him more: the fact that at twenty-one, Olivia didn’t want him to know about the goings-on in her life, or knowing that had he been around, she would have come to both him and Tracy together—which was as it should have been.
Chapter 18
She woke up that morning feeling a slight lift in her spirits. The summerlike Miami morning was bright and welcoming.
As she approached the towering glass building in North Miami, she had more faith in her recent decisions—she’d made some bold choices. Dressed in an elegant, but cool cotton strapless dress, the woman was the picture of allure, and it escaped no one’s notice as she entered the building. To avoid recognition, she donned a broad-rimmed summer hat and her dark, impenetrable shades.
Scanning the directory, she said aloud, “Dr. Ulysses Berenger…Suite 315.” She moved swiftly to the elevator, hoping to ride alone, but was then followed by several people who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The woman kept her head low, avoiding eye contact with anyone, despite her dark shades.
When she reached Suite 315, she entered and announced her name and appointment time to the young, cheery receptionist. “You’re a bit early, ma’am, but Dr. Berenger shouldn’t be much longer with his current appointment. Please have a seat through that doorway”—she pointed beyond the woman’s shoulder—“and I’ll call you when he’s ready, okay?”
So she entered the spacious waiting area and admired the lavish decorations. The décor was quite contemporary, but with portraits of famous stars from classic movie scenes. The woman admired them all. There was Vivien Leigh, vowing never to be hungry again in Gone With the Wind; Judy Garland’s frightened face as she waited in the Wicked Witch’s castle in The Wizard of Oz; Audrey Hepburn perched in a window, singing “Moon River” in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and several others from equally well-known films.
The woman took a seat, enjoying the classical music that hummed softly from hidden speakers around the room. The music, as intended, acted as a mind-soothing balm. In only a few minutes, she was so relaxed the receptionist had to call her name twice when the doctor was ready. Still, she now approached his office feeling a little uneasy.
After they had exchanged introductions and greetings, Dr. Berenger took his seat, facing her where she sat on the sofa. In his early fifties, he was a sturdy-looking man of average height, with a shock of silver hair. Without preamble, Dr. Berenger began his mental probe. “What would you like to talk about today?” His voice was soft and comforting, in an attempt to help her relax, to gain her trust.
She hesitated. Where do I begin?
Sensing her uncertainty, Dr. Berenger said, “Why don’t we begin this way. What was on your mind when you got up this morning?”
“Well,” she began, “the first thing I thought was how much better I felt knowing that I had this appointment. I really believe that discussing all this with someone who can be objective, and offer good advice based on that, will be of great help to me right now.”
“That is a healthy thought, and it is good that you recognize it. Very good. Now, why did you choose me? Why not a friend or a family member?”
“Like I said, I need someone who can be objective, and my friends and family won’t be…I need complete objectivity. They’re too close to me.”
“I see. Any particular reason they couldn’t be objective enough? Have you done anything you feel they would disapprove of?”
“Oh, no, Doctor—it’s my husband.”
“What about your husband?”
“Well, I discovered that he has a whole slew of women all over the country.” She struggled to remain calm, although the very thought brought the anger to a slow simmer.
“So he’s being unfaithful.”
“Yes, he is. And I’ve known for quite some time but I…I guess I needed tangible proof of it. So I hired a private investigator to get it for me.”
“Okay,” said Dr. Berenger. “Some of my questions may seem fundamental, but please understand that they are only to facilitate clarity.” The woman nodded. “Good. Now, how do you feel about these infidelities? How do you really feel?”
She thought of the best way to express it without sounding like a cliché. After all, men cheated on their wives everyday. “I feel like…I feel like I’ve been living a farce for the past eighteen years. Like everything we’ve ever shared was all one-sided…as though I’ve been alone in what I thought was our relationship. I feel like…like he’s ruined my life.” Her words were spoken quietly, but with a desperation that expressed the need for them to be spoken.
“You’ve been married eighteen years, and in the whole of those eighteen years, how long have you suspected infidelities?”
“Well, you know what they say about hindsight being twenty twenty.” After a pause, she continued. “I think I’ve known all along, from the week we were married. And I know you’re wondering why I’ve stayed, then, for eighteen years—correct? Well, it’s simple. I was living life with rose-colored glasses on. I think I chose to ignore his deceptions. I loved him…I still love him. And that’s why I’m here.”
“No, I think you may be mistaken about that. I think you’re here because of what exists at the root of your uncertainty when I asked what you wanted to talk about today.” He let his words sink in before he continued. “Think of that hesitation and why you hesitated…Why you couldn’t just say,
‘I would like to talk about my husband’s infidelities.’ Or something of the like. You couldn’t just come out with that because…?”
“Well, I just didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t know how to…to bring it up.”
“Yes, but there is a reason or several reasons for that. Can you think of what they could be?”
“Nothing more than a lack of words, I suppose.”
“Let me see if I can help you see why.” Dr. Berenger leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “There is clearly great pain and ambivalence in what you’re feeling right now regarding your husband. You knew what you wanted to discuss today, but when asked directly, you didn’t know how to express it without being led up to it. Now, with that in mind, think of how it indirectly applies to the eighteen years of marriage you’ve lived through.”
What the hell is he talking about? “I’m not sure I follow, Doctor,” she said, puzzled.
“You just said, and rather simply, I might add, that you are here because you still love your husband, correct?”
“Yes, I love him, and that’s why it’s been so hard to break away. That’s why I’m seeking guidance in dealing with this situation.”
“So easily said now, but couldn’t be expressed quite so simply at the beginning of our discussion...”
•
One hour after her arrival, she left Dr. Berenger’s office with more insight than she could have imagined. He helped her acknowledge the weakness that had given her a false sense of security in a precarious marriage.
THE GREAT PRETENDER Page 15