On This Day

by Melody Carlson

  “So quit feeling sorry for yourself,” I say, determined to master this thing. “Lighten up and have some fun.”

  I shove a few baby essentials into my purse, then take a deep breath and head downstairs. I know I’m a few minutes late, but people should cut you some slack when you have a newborn, right?

  I continue my pep talk as I go down the stairs. I am a decent, valuable, caring human being. David loves me dearly. Amy loves me dearly. We’re a happy family, and nothing is going to change that. And money doesn’t buy happiness.

  Even when I see some of the more elegant wedding guests moving through the lobby, being fashionably late although they don’t have babies, and even when I notice the expensive gowns, the exquisite shoes, the costly jewelry, I continue with my mental pep talk slogans. Money does not equal happiness. Love cannot be purchased. The best things in life are free. And as trite and cliché as these may sound, I am holding on to them like diamonds. Because somehow I’ve got to make it through this evening with a bit of dignity and grace. God, help me!

  Chapter 36

  SUZETTE

  I can’t believe that Jim never came back, that he left me in the bar to rot and grow old by myself. First I look in our room, thinking he may have ducked in to catch a quick catnap, but there’s no sign of him. I take a few minutes to touch up my makeup and hair, but as I apply a new coat of iced peach lipstick, I’m wondering why I even bother. Why do I care anymore? Will he even notice? Does it really make any difference?

  For all I know, he’s with her right now, doing who knows what? And why not be honest? Why kid myself? Although it was only thirty minutes before dinnertime when he dashed out of the bar, well, that’s still plenty of time for good old Jim boy.

  Sometimes that man just totally disgusts me. Sometimes our life totally disgusts me too. Especially when I’ve had a bit to drink. Like tonight. I pause in front of the mirror, taking a moment to really study my reflection. Despite what should be the blurring effect of alcohol, my features look harsh and sharp. Every line and crease seems to stand out in this poorly lit bathroom. And my hair color is all wrong. When did it become so brassy and cheap looking?

  I go out to the full-length mirror now. This dress that I thought was so perfect earlier really doesn’t look like much today. And my figure … Well, I don’t even want to go there. How did I get like this? Why did I let myself go?

  I remember when I was Jenny’s age. When I looked young and fresh and alive. When I was the kind of woman who turned heads. Now I just look old and tired, ready to be replaced by a newer model. I know he’s with Nicole now—Im certain of it. And it makes me absolutely livid. I am furious. Why do I put up with his stunts anyway? Maybe Elizabeth is right; maybe it’s just not worth it!

  Just thinking of Nicole, looking so cool and calm in her pale blue suit, pretending that she hadn’t been watching Jim, probably plotting her next move, makes me want to scream! I’d really like to take that girl out. I’d like to jump on her, scratch her pretty face with my fingernails, and pull her hair out in big brown hunks. Well, not really. I wouldn’t want to make a spectacle of myself. Maybe I can just have her killed.

  I remember when I was thirteen and a girl jumped on me like that. Right there in the hallway next to the cafeteria. Her name was Cynthia Arnold, and she claimed that I’d been flirting with her boyfriend. And maybe I had, but did that give her the right to attack me? But the weird thing was, when she lunged at me, completely taking me by surprise, I didn’t just play the victim and take it. I fought back. I can still remember the frightened look in her eyes when I laid into her. It was like an animal had been unleashed in me, and I kicked and scratched and pulled hair. I screamed like a wildcat. Cynthia Arnold took a beating that day. And no one ever jumped Suzette Floss again.

  I can’t believe I’m thinking about this now. Why go there? I’ve worked hard to put all that behind me. Even Jim has never heard the truth of my lackluster childhood in the Midwest. I told him that my parents were killed in a car wreck when I was nine and that my grandma raised me after that. The truth is, I’m ashamed, always have been, of my unimpressive family. My alcoholic father and his dead-end job at the factory. My overweight mother who thinks shopping only involves a store that ends with the word “mart.” I grew up with hand-me-downs and put-downs, and after I graduated from high school, I blew out of town faster than a tornado. And I’ve never looked back. In my mind, my parents, my family—they are all dead and buried.

  “Forget about it, Suzette,” I seethe at myself. “Let the past go. Move on.”

  But it’s like I’m stuck. Like I’m trapped, and somewhere deep inside, I’ll always be that pathetically poor little Suzette Floss with the crooked teeth. That pitiful secondhand girl from the wrong side of town. A loser who will never really make anything of herself. I can’t shake it.

  That’s how I know I’ll give in. I know that despite the way Jim cheats on me, despite how much he hurts me, I can’t walk away from him. I need him too much. I need his prestige. I need his money. I cannot survive without him. And that’s how I know that no price is too high to pay for this marriage. No matter what it takes, I must hang on to Jim. I must make this work.

  I’m just not sure how. I glance at the clock and realize that I’d better go downstairs. Perhaps Jim is already seated at the dinner and waiting for me. I’d much rather make my entrance by his side, my hand on his arm, and have him pull the chair out for me. But beggars can’t be choosers, right? That’s what my mother used to tell me. I guess it’s still true today.

  I give myself an expensive squirt of perfume, take one last look in the mirror, pick up my purse, and go. You can do this, Suzette, I tell myself. Just hold your chin up and smile.

  Chapter 37

  ELIZABETH

  Ingrid decides to make a quick run to her room to touch up her face, and I head down to the lobby by myself. I spy my sister near the restaurant door, talking to one of the lodge employees, probably tending to some last-minute detail for the dinner. She looks old and tired. And for the first time it hits me that she really is getting older. She’s only six years older than I am, but it seems to be showing more than ever today. I am also aware that she is about the same age our mother was when she died, and for some reason this concerns me.

  I walk over to Jeannette, put my arm around her shoulder, and give her a little sideways squeeze. “Hey, Sis.”

  “Oh, Elizabeth,” she says. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Thanks for offering, but I think it’s under control now. They’re running short on asparagus in the kitchen, and we were just deciding on an alternative. I went with French-cut green beans. Do you think that’s okay?”

  I pat her on the back. “I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

  She looks relieved. “Oh good.”

  “I think everything about this wedding’s been totally perfect,” I tell her. “Really amazing, Jeannette. You should be proud.”

  She smiles. “Thanks, Elizabeth. I needed to hear that just now.” She lowers her voice, although there’s no one around to hear. “Catherine is good at finding the imperfections, if you know what I mean.”

  I nod. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Are you going to dinner now?”

  “Yes, I think so. Want to walk out there together?”

  “Sure,” I tell her. “Have you seen our husbands around?”

  “As far as I know, they’re not back yet.” She glances at her watch. “But they better hurry it up.”

  “Where did they go anyway?” I ask.

  She puts a forefinger to her lips, then says quietly, “Don’t tell anyone, but they’re hiding the getaway car.”

  I nod. “I see.”

  “Michael has rented a lovely cabin not far from here where they’ll stay the night, but they don’t want anyone to know or to follow them. So the men drove Michael’s car to an undisclosed location, and it’s all rather complicated. I’m sure Phil will
explain it to you later.”

  “I bet you’re exhausted,” I say as I hold the door open for us.

  “I really am,” she admits. “It’s been lovely and wonderful, but I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

  “I know.” Then I look out to the huge white tent that’s been set up for the dinner. The sun’s just gone down, and it’s getting dusky out. The blue of the lake seems to be melding into the mountains, and there are little white lights strung about the trees, as well as numerous white votive candles in glass jars hanging here and there. The effect is truly enchanting.

  “Oh my!” I say, grabbing Jeannettes arm. “It looks like we’re in a fairyland!”

  “Isn’t it pretty?”

  The trail from the lodge is outlined by white luminaries, and I can hear soft jazz coming from the direction of the tent. “Oh, this is really fun, Jeannette.”

  She giggles. “It is, isn’t it? Kind of invigorating and refreshing after the long day. I hope everyone can just relax now and let their hair down.”

  Garlands of greenery and soft pink flowers adorn the entrance to the enormous tent, and once we’re inside, I see the enchantment hasn’t stopped at the door. White cloth-covered tables have low elegant clusters of pale pink rosebuds and soft feathery greenery, and the only lighting is from the white candles nestled in the arrangements. But the place is just glowing. Everything is absolutely perfect and magical.

  Some guests are milling about with drinks in hand, some of the older ones are already seated, and others are watching the small jazz ensemble in the corner next to the wooden dance floor. To my relief, we’re not really late. Even the bride and groom haven’t made an appearance yet.

  “You and Phil are sitting at our table up there,” Jeannette informs me, pointing. “The place cards should be set up by now. But if you’ll excuse me, I just remembered I need to go check on something.”

  “Need any help?”

  “Not really. But I’ll let you know if I do.” She pauses. “Hey, how’s it going with Suzette Burke, by the way? Things still under control?”

  “I think so. She seemed okay the last time I saw her.” I’m not about to say that I left her alone in the bar. Hopefully she’s not still up there, getting hammered or making a move on the poor keyboard guy. I glance around the tent but don’t see either her or Jim. For all I know, he might’ve gone back to the lounge as she’d hoped. Maybe they had a little heart-to-heart talk and are making up right now. Maybe they won’t even come to dinner at all. To be honest, I’m not sure I care. Suzette is definitely high maintenance. And I have enough of my own problems without tossing hers into the mix.

  I look around for my sons and finally spot Patrick among the group of young people who are listening to the music. I decide to go over and say hello. And I suppose I might say a bit more if the opportunity arises. After all, what are mothers for? Besides that, I told Ingrid I’d drop a hint.

  “Hey, Patrick,” I say as I join this group of younger people. “What do you think of the old-fogy music?”

  He laughs. “I happen to like jazz.”

  “Where’s Conner?”

  “Taking a nap.” He glances at his watch. “Hope he makes it down here on time.”

  “I’m sure his tummy alarm will be going off any minute now.”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  I glance around the young people and decide to play these cards close to my chest. “Uh, he’s helping Uncle Eric with something.”

  Patrick nods and turns back to listen to the sax solo. I wait for a while, trying to decide whether or not to say something about Ingrid. The music really is quite good, and I wonder where Jenny found this little group. Finally they end that piece and start up another.

  “So, Pat,” I begin in a quiet voice, “did you hear about Ingrid?”

  “Huh?” He turns and looks curiously at me. “What do you mean?

  “Well, I’m not sure she wants everyone to know about this just yet, but it turns out her engagement with Jason is off. I know she’s a little upset about the whole thing, and she could probably use some cheering up tonight. Also, she doesn’t want Jenny to worry about her—you know how close they are. So if there’s anything you and Conner can do to … distract Ingrid, you know, it might help.”

  “Sure, Mom,” he says lightly. “That’s too bad. I thought her fiancé was coming up here for the wedding.”

  “He came.”

  “And he broke their engagement here?”

  I nod. “Yeah, and then he took off.”

  “Nice guy.”

  “That’s pretty much what I was thinking. Personally, I believe she’s better off without him.”

  Patrick slowly nods, and a thoughtful look crosses his brow. I can tell he feels sorry for Ingrid and probably thinks this Jason guy is a real piece of work, but he doesn’t voice this. And, not for the first time, I am reminded of what a fine young man he is—so much like his dad. Or rather what his dad used to be like. Or what I thought he was like. Now I’m not entirely sure. Conner, on the other hand, is more of a cad. He’s a good-hearted cad, but when it comes to the girls, he’s not the most dependable boyfriend. I can’t imagine him making a real lifetime commitment anytime soon. Although that’s probably for the best, since I don’t think he’s mature enough to get into a serious relationship anyway. Patrick, however, is a different story.

  I suddenly imagine this being Patrick’s wedding, say, in a year or so. It probably wouldn’t be nearly as lavish as this one, unless he marries an heiress. But I could imagine him meeting the right girl and wanting to settle down. Maybe even someone like Ingrid. And perhaps in a few years they would have a child—maybe even a daughter, and I could have tea parties with her, just like I used to do with Jenny. Holidays would be so much more fun with the sound of little footsteps running through our house on the hill.

  Just like a popped bubble, my silly little daydream comes to an abrupt ending. Who knows where I’ll be living in a few years or whether my boys will want to spend holidays with me? Or with their dad? And what if Patrick really does decide to get married, and Phil and I are in the throes of a horrible divorce at the time? Oh, the complications of broken marriages, failed relationships … How does anyone survive it all?

  Chapter 38

  INGRID

  What’s up?” asks Lana as soon as I enter the room. Startled to hear her voice, I literally jump. I must’ve forgotten I have a temporary roommate. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

  “Nothing,” I say as I kick off my shoes.

  “You don’t look so good,” she says with a frown.

  “Thanks,” I respond as I head for the bathroom—my only escape, or so I imagine.

  “Is something wrong?” she calls after me.

  “No, I’m fine,” I say as I close the door. Will this chick take a hint? I turn on the fan for background noise and to drown out any more questions. Then I flick on the light above the sink and look in the mirror. Unfortunately, she’s right. I don’t look so good. Smudgy mascara. No lips. Even my blush seems to have disappeared. Hopefully I can remedy this mess before dinner.

  To my relief, it takes only a couple of minutes to put things in order. Ah, the miracles of good makeup. Even though I’m finished, I still don’t want to go back out and face another onslaught of Lanas questions. Why on earth would I want to tell this girl that I’ve just been jilted by Jason? I suppose I could lie to her and say I dumped him first, but what would be the purpose? I actually press my ear against the door and, holding my breath, listen carefully to see if she’s still there. It sounds perfectly quiet, and I think the coast is clear. But as soon as I step out, I see her sitting on the edge of the bed as if she’s actually waiting for me. Ready to pounce. The obnoxious roommate who just won’t go away. How did Jenny put up with her?

  “At least you look a little better now,” she says with a slight frown, as if I’m still not quite together. “Ready to go down to dinner?”

  I cross my arms across my front, wish
ing she’d disappear. “I guess.”

  “What is wrong with you, Ingrid?”

  “Nothing,” I say as I push my feet back into the pretty shoes that have been pressing into my arches. I’m tempted to leave them behind and go to dinner barefoot, but I have a feeling Jenny’s new mother-in-law might not approve.

  “Well, it’s getting late,” she announces as if she’s personally in charge of me. “We’d better go.”

  She continues to query me regarding my state of mind as we walk downstairs, but I’m doing my clam act now. It’s something I learned to do when I was a kid and my parents got into a fight. I’d just shut up and quit talking to both of them until they were finished. I still use it sometimes. And I’ve learned it can occasionally prevent trouble, since it keeps my big mouth shut—at least temporarily.

  “Where’s your fiancé?” she asks when we reach the lobby.

  Now that there are other people around, I decide I should appear a bit more civilized, especially since I am the maid of honor. This means pasting a smile on my face. And for Jenny’s sake I answer Lana. “He went home.”

  “Why?” she demands as I open the door that leads outside.

  “Because he had something to take care of.” Okay, I have no idea why I said that, but I suppose it’s not exactly a lie. He has a new girlfriend to take care of, right?

  “So that’s why you’re so bummed,” she says as if she’s suddenly turned into Sherlock Holmes.

  I don’t respond. But as soon as we’re outside, I forget all about her questions. I allow myself to be caught up in the unexpected beauty of the purplish blue sky, the lights, and the glowing tent.