The Social Affair

by Britney King

  She takes my hands and gives them a squeeze. “When are you ever going to learn to be on time?” she chides as she kisses each of my cheeks. It would be nice to say we’re on equal footing, Beth and I. But seeing that her husband is the founder of New Hope, that isn’t the case. In reality, we actually don’t care much for one another. But you wouldn’t know it by the amount of time we spend together. Mondays it’s coffee at my house at 8:00 a.m. sharp. Thursdays it’s tea at hers. Fridays we hold committee for the other wives, and sometimes we do brunch on Saturdays while our husbands golf. At New Hope, we treat religion like a twelve-step program. It works better this way.

  “Everything is so organized,” Mel says, meeting my eye. “I just hope I’ve done my part.”

  “You’ve done your part,” I tell her, thinking of June. I know I shouldn’t place the blame on her—she is so young, after all, but I can’t help myself. June was my friend, like Kate was my friend, only different. I offer a reassuring smile just for Beth. “You weren’t supposed to do anything, really,” I say, and it isn’t a lie. This time it’s my turn. “That’s why we’re here—to honor you.”

  Beth raises her brow. “Josie is right. We want you to feel welcome.”

  “Everything is so…well thought out,” Mel tells her.

  Beth laughs and fans her dress. “We pride ourselves on excellence at New Hope.” A server stops by with a tray of appetizers. I watch as she carefully selects the one she wants. When she’s satisfied, she turns back to us. “Well, that’s the mission, anyway.”

  “I’m very impressed. Tom speaks highly of the church—about how it changed his life.”

  “Ah,” Beth says. She speaks firmly, authoritatively, as though she’s trying to establish her rightful place in the girl’s mind. Also, she never misses a chance to talk up the church. “Tom was perfect for New Hope from the get go. He’s very meticulous in that way.”

  “That he is.” Mel lights up. “Sometimes I wonder how I’ll ever keep up.”

  “You will,” Beth assures her. “You have us. We stick together at New Hope,” she says with a smile. “Also, this is why I wanted to introduce you to Josie. She is to be your sponsor.”

  I do a double-take. This is the first I’ve heard of this.

  Beth’s eyes widen. She looks thrilled. I can see she’s pleased with herself for breaking the news. “I think the two of you will get on quite well.”

  Mel smiles in her naïve, girlish way. “I’m excited to learn the ropes.”

  “You’ll catch on,” I say pursing my lips. “Although I think Beth would be the better woman to teach you.”

  “Nonsense,” Beth laughs. “Who do you think taught you?”

  “You have a point,” I agree. It’s easier this way. Beth did teach me everything I know. Even now, she’s teaching me.

  “I’m just excited to really dive in. From what Tom has told me, it seems like you guys have created the perfect church home. And you know… it’s funny. This was something I’ve been searching for, for so, so long. I can’t even begin to tell you. And so…to know it was here—that it was out there all along—well—I just feel so blessed, you know?”

  Beth’s palm flies to her chest. She’s touched. New Hope is her baby and every bit as important to her as her real children. This church and the way it works is her brain-child. It’s her whole life, a point she likes to drive home often. I watch carefully as she takes a quick breath in and lets it out. “We started the congregation hoping there were people out there like you,” she says, leaning forward. “But you never really know, you know? Some things just hit, while others don’t. Thankfully, we’ve been very fortunate with New Hope in that regard.”

  I listen as she speaks, wondering how much I can still force myself to believe. Once upon a time I was as green as Mel. These days I wish I was that young, that innocent, that full of goodwill.

  “Goodwill,” Beth says, addressing the group and suddenly I’m transported back to her living room, back to the beginning. She smiles proudly. “That’s what we need,” she adds, and back then she was as much of a liar as she is now. Back then, we didn’t need fancy buildings or recruitment strategies or weekly weigh-ins. Back then, we just needed each other. Or so I thought. Or so we all thought.

  I can still picture her there in her tweed skirt and sweater, looking girlish and alive. We were all tired, in the early days of parenting and trying to build careers, this in addition to managing things at home while our husbands worked long, relentless hours. Beth was one of those women we all looked up to. Even if we didn’t exactly like her, we admired her, nonetheless. She didn’t look haggard or withdrawn like the rest of us. She was making a list and taking names, in heels and makeup, no less. With two well-behaved children hanging off each leg.

  She extends her arms as though she’s been practicing for this speech her whole life. “We need to bring goodwill back into our lives. We need to bring excellence back to the table. We need to instill this in our children. We need to model it in our marriages.”

  The seven of us nodded in unison. Her speech was moving. We were inspired. We all wanted a change. We all wanted to not feel so alone. Hell, what we all wanted more than anything was adult conversation, and for that reason alone, no matter what Beth had said, we would have agreed.

  Then, while New Hope was in its infancy, a string of terrible events happened in our city, in our neighborhood, right under our noses, and what we all wanted more than anything was to know how we’d failed to see that women were being trafficked right under our noses. We missed that evil lived among us, disguised as friends and neighbors. We all wanted to know what we could do to avoid it happening again. To band together, as Beth suggested, seemed like as viable an answer as any. We had to get stronger, more exclusive; we had to protect ourselves, our children, our community. It was a game-changer for most of us. But it wasn’t what it is now. Back then, we were all scared—a different kind of scared than we are now. In those days, we were young and naive and full of hope. Full of belief that with each other and a few shifts we could change our lives. We managed that all right, and it changed everything.

  “This is an agreement,” Beth said, passing out binders. “I want you to read over it and then we will all sign it.”

  “And if we don’t?” I asked. “If we don’t sign?”

  Beth glared at me, a stone-cold look in her eye. She was still angry with me about Kate and the other thing.

  “Well,” she laughed. “That’s a great question, Josie. I’m so glad you asked. If you don’t sign, then it just goes to show you don’t believe in New Hope or our mission.”

  I nodded, and I didn’t respond. I wanted to believe.

  “Josie,” Beth calls again. “Hellllloooo.” She cranes her neck. “Where are you?”

  “Sorry,” I shrug, her surgically enhanced nose coming into focus. “I hardly slept last night.” I realize immediately this was the wrong thing to say. It’s an offhand remark, an easy excuse for drifting off, for not listening to the conversation. But the little things are the things one has to be careful of. Sleep is written into the agreement. It’s not wise to openly admit you’re not in accordance with the agreement.

  “Darling, that dress—” She leans forward to take me in, expertly changing the subject. I would like to think my comment has flown over her head—that it was lost in the moment—but I know Beth, and I know that is not the case. “It’s stunning.”

  “Yes,” Mel says. “It’s perfection.”

  I glance down, smooth it out, and I smile. I search the crowd that’s gathered in the dining area. I’m looking for my husband. It takes me a few seconds, but I spot him standing by the bar. I can’t see who he’s talking to, I can only just make out the back of his head. I’d know it anywhere. Another server walks by, this time with a tray of wine, and I take a glass. “Thank you,” I say, meeting Mel’s eye. I motion toward the dress. “Grant brought it back from Argentina.”

  I study her expression; she’s young, but I c
an see that she’s smart. “Where are you from?”

  “Boise.”

  I tilt my head, jut out my lip and feign surprise. “Boise.”

  “Yes,” she laughs. “That’s where I met Tom, actually. He was there on business and walked right into me on the street.” She extends her brow. “What are the odds of that?”

  Pretty good, knowing Tom, I want to say. I bite my tongue.

  “Anyway,” she adds. “He invited me to coffee, and the rest, well, the rest is history.”

  “I bet it is.” I don’t mean to say it, I am so busy holding other things in that the words just roll on out.

  “Josie!” Beth chides

  “What?” I ask, brushing her off. I glance around the room, and then take a giant gulp of my wine. I look over at Beth, and I half-laugh, setting up what I’m about to say. “Everyone appreciates a good love story. I was just saying I want more— that’s all.”

  “As her sponsor, I’m sure you’ll get it,” Beth assures me. Patience is a virtue.

  “What exactly does a sponsor do?” Mel asks, scanning the crowd. I think she too is trying to cut and run, anxious to get out from underneath Beth’s intensity. Run, I want to tell her. You aren’t wrong. She is a mood killer.

  Beth waits for me to answer, but when I don’t, she takes the lead. I’m happy to give her the floor. Saves me the opportunity of saying the wrong thing. “A sponsor ensures you’re acclimating to the church appropriately. They see to it that you’re well cared for, and equally as important, they see to it that you understand the rules.”

  “Tom mentioned the rules,” Mel replies, biting her lip. She leans in close and drops her voice. Also, her guard. “There seem to be a lot of them.”

  “Oh,” Beth says. “No need to worry.” She waves her off, with the flip of a wrist, like it’s nothing. “You’ll catch on soon enough.”

  I down the last of the wine, and then press my lips together. When I can manage, when the magic elixir settles in and soothes my worry, I force a smile, and I think to myself, little does she know soon enough might be too late.

  Chapter Ten

  Izzy

  “Oh good, you’re home,” Tyler says once he’s come barreling in the door. I guess I shouldn’t have left it unlocked. But then, I like living on the edge.

  “You,” I murmur without glancing up from my laptop. He leans against the bar. I feel his eyes on me.

  “I brought you a little something.”

  I don’t look up. I don’t have to. I know why he’s here, and what his next move will be. Also, I’m engrossed in what I’m doing. “Is that so?”

  He feigns sadness. “You don’t seem very happy to see me,” he says almost mockingly. “I guess I should go…”

  He’s trying to get me to call his bluff, but I don’t bite. In the end, he doesn’t care one way or the other. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I realize I have no idea what Tyler does care about. Not that I give a damn, either. It’s just an observation.

  I used to see him in passing in the building, coming or going, but not really see him, you know? He was always sort of just there, somewhere in the background. Until one day about seven months after Josh died, he called out for me in the hall. “I got your mail,” he said, handing over a letter. When I looked down, it wasn’t my name on the envelope. It was Josh’s. He studied me carefully, and then he sighed like any display of emotion was more than he’d bargained for. “I’m sorry,” he said. It caught me off guard.

  “Everyone dies,” I told him.

  “Yes, about that,” he replied. “I’ve given it some thought, and I think you need to get laid.”

  I managed a straight face. I perfected it over the years. And yet, it was such an off-the-cuff, unexpected remark that I didn’t quite know what to do with it.

  “Well,” he added when I didn’t respond. I studied the letters in Josh’s name instead. He cleared his throat forcing me to meet his eye. “I just wanted to say I’m the man for the job…you know, if you ever need anything.”

  “Is there like a secret handshake or something, a smoke signal?” I asked.

  “Oh,” his eyes widened. “We have a smart ass,” he said, eventually jutting out his bottom lip. “I like it.”

  I shrugged and was just about to turn and be on my merry way.

  “Just leave the door ajar,” he called out. “I’m home every night at seven.”

  I rolled my eyes, glanced down at the letter, and shook my head. “In your dreams.”

  “You aren’t wrong about that,” he said, and then he winked and went back the way he came.

  I stood there and wondered how desperate I’d have to be to give in to that sort of offer.

  I found out two weeks later when I did accidentally leave my door ajar. I hadn’t meant to do it. Not really. I was in the process of hauling Josh’s old recliner out to the dumpster. I just couldn’t stand to look at the thing anymore. It was too sad. Plus, I’d never much liked it anyway. When I came back from the dumpster, there was Tyler, sitting on my couch, legs propped up on my makeshift coffee table.

  “What—”

  He held his hands up. “The door was ajar.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “It wasn’t an invitation.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “The dumpster.”

  “Ah. Well,” he sighed. “It isn’t wise to leave your door open. You never know who might come a-knocking.”

  I crossed my arms, uncrossed them, and rubbed my face with my hands. I wanted to bury my head in them forever. I wanted him to go, and yet I didn’t want to feel the emptiness of being alone.

  “Damn,” he said, standing upright. “What a disappointment.”

  I looked up then and met his gaze directly. “Did you bring a condom?”

  “Always,” he said nonchalantly, as though he’d been expecting me to say it and then he broke out into a full grin.

  I bit my lip as though I wasn’t sure, when that really wasn’t the case at all. I knew how I’d spend the evening if he walked out that door, and I just couldn’t. “Give me thirty seconds and meet me in the bedroom,” I said before making a beeline for the bathroom.

  I studied my reflection in the mirror. Gave myself a pep talk. You can do this. It’s not like it was my first foray into meaningless sex. I shouldn’t have needed any of the rah-rah stuff. But it was the first time in almost a decade that any man aside from Josh would see me naked. Still. It’s pretty basic, sex, the way it all works. You rub your bodies together, and with any luck you enjoy it. When you don’t, pretending’s not so hard. So I wasn’t nervous about that. Unless he had a tiny dick, there are only so many ways to fuck it up. Pun intended.

  The part I wasn’t sure I could stomach was his touch. It had been seven months since anyone had touched me in an intimate way, and Tyler was a poor substitute at best. But he was living and breathing, in my living room, and willing. I didn’t take him for the type to be attentive but I didn’t know what I’d do if he tried the tender and sweet—let’s act like this is something it isn’t— route. That’s not the side of the coin I like to be on.

  I freshened up and then I went into the bedroom and fell back on the bed. I knew what to do. I’d done it so many times before. He came in right on schedule. I made sure the room was dark, the blackout shades closed tight. This way, I couldn’t see it wasn’t Josh. This way I would be better at pretending.

  I shouldn’t have been worried. It was mostly over before it started. He came quick that first time. There wasn’t time for other positions or foreplay of any kind, and when he was done I asked him to leave.

  “Just like that?” he asked.

  I stared at the celling. Even in the dark I knew every crevice. “Just like that.”

  “I can go again—if you give me a few minutes.”

  “No, thank you,” I said. He didn’t say anything after that, not like guys would, he simply stood and dressed, and then he was gone.

  But it turns out my mother had been
right about feeding stray cats. He was back the night after that, and the next and the next after that. It became routine— stress relief, a workout. The sex was mediocre, like most things in my life at that point. But it was reliable.

  That situation lasted for a few months, and then he met someone. Six months went by where we became nothing more than strangers. I didn’t miss him. I had enough to keep me busy where missing is concerned. Still, he never looked me in the eye when I passed them in the hall.

  Now, here he is, leaning against my bar like old times, back as though he’d never left.

  “Didn’t want to bring your girlfriend with you?” My eyes are firmly on Instalook. I prefer that reality to the one standing before me.

  “I’m not into threesomes.”

  “That’s too bad.” I raise my brow and focus on the Dunns. I bet they’re good at sex. I bet it’s hot, adventurous. Just like them.

  “Anyway, neither is she, probably. She broke up with me.”

  I widen my eyes but I don’t meet his. “Shocker.”

  “Geez. What’s your deal?”

  “I don’t have a deal.”

  From my periphery, I see him remove a lighter from his pocket. He’s lighting a joint. His usual tactic. To guys like Tyler this counts as foreplay. It’s all he knows of seduction. I wonder what Grant Dunn does for her. Actually, I don’t have to wonder. I know. For them, foreplay starts long before they hit the sheets. I can see it in their photos. In the gifts he chooses.

  Soon, the sweet musky scent fills the air. “Fancy a toke?”

  I look up then. For the first time, I get a good look at his face. Tyler looks different. He looks heartbroken. I’d know that look anywhere. I shrug, and that’s all it takes. It’s an invitation. It’s an acceptance. You can treat me however you want. I’ll be here. He plops down on the couch beside me.

  I don’t move away.

  “Whatcha lookin’ at there?” he asks. I can see that he’s trying to lighten the mood, but I’m not interested in talking. He passes the joint. I feel the burn on my fingertips. Sometimes pain is necessary. He stares at the screen, and then he looks up at me and smiles. “Friends of yours?”