She hoped, and she prayed, too. She knew this mood would wear itself out. Something would happen, and he would cheer up. He’d be his old self again soon. And they could go back to building their relationship.
The chairs in the fifty-student classroom were new and so comfortable that if a professor was not skilled at keeping his students’ attention, they would sink into those swivel chairs and fall asleep. Weslee took notes absently. Return on investment. Return on equity. She wondered why she was enjoying her job at the gym so much more than she enjoyed coming to class. Rainee Smalls had been true to her word. Now Weslee had a steady stream of middle-aged women coming into the gym requesting her services. Some of them had even asked her to do house calls. She had refused because it was against the rules of HealthyLife Spa. Now, as the professor talked about return on investment, she toyed with an idea that had been in the back of her mind for weeks. What if she went solo? What if she quit HealthyLife, let Rainee Smalls and her gossipy friends do her advertising for her? She could make a lot of money. She’d charge them eighty dollars an hour if she had to go to their homes. At that rate, she could afford to bring her car here. Maybe buy a condominium, with lots of windows and off-street parking.
She decided she liked this Financial Analysis class. It was letting her see possibilities. The professor was widely disliked, and that had been one of the reasons she had taken his class. She knew Lana wouldn’t be in it. Lana always picked the professors who had the reputation of being easy, agreeable, and easily charmed. Well, Weslee had never gotten by on her charm before, so she decided that she wouldn’t try to start now.
She walked out of class with Koji Mako and Haraam Abduraman, now her only friends. “Hey, do you guys want to team up on the project?”
“Oh, yes,” Koji said. “We like to work with you. You have good work ethic. You sure you not Japanese?”
The three of them laughed as they parted company.
She walked to the elevator. She had a training client at lunchtime, then another class in the late afternoon.
The click, click of stilettos behind her made her turn back.
It had only been a couple of months since their falling out, so Weslee couldn’t figure out why she expected Lana to look any different. Maybe it was because Weslee herself felt that she had changed so much since that first day she met Lana. She was no longer the wide-eyed doormat so starved for company that she would tolerate Lana’s selfish antics. As usual, she looked stunning. She had streaked her jet black hair with brownish, reddish highlights, and it warmed her skin, which was now a bit paler.
Weslee swallowed. “Hey, Lana, how are you?” She had been doing her best to avoid Lana since she returned to school a few weeks before. And though it was a small school, she had been successful. So far, they were not in a single class together.
“Wes!” Lana said, her face exploding into a smile as if nothing had happened between them. “Oh my God. You look great! Where have you been? I’ve been meaning to call, but I think I’ve lost your number.” The words came out quickly and jumbled, as if they had been rehearsed many times.
“I’m doing fine. You look awesome, too,” Weslee said kindly. She remembered the numerous times that Lana would smile that same, big, generous, toothy smile to countless people and then tear them apart with her words the minute they walked away. “Well, it was good to see you. Take care,” Weslee said, walking toward the stairs.
“Oh. Great to see you, too, Wes. I’ll give you a call. We have to get together soon.”
Weslee bounded down the stairs. She felt as if she were being chased by something, so strong was the need to get away from Lana’s duplicity. It occurred to her that because of their brief, stormy friendship, her life had changed, probably forever. She tried to be pragmatic. It wasn’t Lana’s fault that she was tens of thousands of dollars in debt to her savings. It certainly wasn’t Lana’s fault that things with Duncan had gotten so confusing. But she wondered how her life here in Boston would have been different if she’d stayed away from Lana as her instincts had warned. Had the friendship been worth her new, fabulous, head-turning appearance, her relationship with Duncan? She didn’t know the answers to those questions. But she lamented the fact that Lana was not a different person. That there had to be this awkwardness between her and another sister. That they could not just be friends and forget all the other stuff. Weslee wondered whether it was her fault. Maybe Lana’s right, she mused. I’m just too boring and uptight. No matter what I wear or what I do, I’ll never be the kind of girl who can be friends with someone like Lana. And Weslee still wasn’t quite sure whether that was a good or a bad thing.
HealthyLife Spa was slowing down after those first frenzied weeks of the New Year. The slackers were going back to slacking, resolutions safely put away until the following year.
Her client was Marie Bunting, another middle-aged woman that Rainee Smalls had sent her way. “Oh, honey. I wish you could just come out to the house once a week. I hate driving down to Boston. The traffic is just terrible. Just terrible. And we have a home gym that’s just going to waste,” Marie said.
“Maybe someday I might be able to work something out,” Weslee said.
She began to dream again. If only she could get enough of a client base together, she could strike out on her own.
“Marie.” Weslee turned to her client as she led her to the StairMaster. “Do you know of any other people who would want training in their homes? I mean, I think I’d like to strike out on my own, but I need to get more clients lined up.”
“Oh, honey. Half the women in my book club would sign up. Ooh, and the ladies in my country club, too. You know what? We’re having a little tea thing next week; why don’t you come along? I talk about you all the time. Rainee will be there, too.”
“Really? You mean that?” Weslee asked, her eyes wide.
This could be what she needed.
Later that night, she could barely contain herself. She couldn’t wait to tell Duncan about her idea and how well things were going with her new clients at HealthyLife. She cooked a big meal: a sirloin steak, garlic mashed potatoes, salad, the works. She made a maple-syrup pecan pie. It wasn’t gourmet, but she knew he would enjoy it.
She pulled the new lingerie from the La Perla bag and headed for the bathtub. Before Lana, she’d thought Victoria’s Secret the holy grail of underwear. Now, thanks to Lana, she knew she had been way off the mark. She looked at the silky baby blue-and-white lace edged teddy on the satin hanger. She’d bought it that day she’d had breakfast with William. That day . . . She tried to put it out of her mind: the uncertainty and rage she’d felt when she didn’t know what to think about Duncan. She’d never forgive William for putting those doubts in her mind. She closed her eyes. Things were better now with Duncan. They would get past this. Tonight would be a new beginning.
She’d laid new satin sheets on the bed and had lit some scented candles to get the detergent smell out of the air. He’d said he’d come by at seven—and he wanted to talk. She smiled. She could feel it; he was going to apologize for the way he’d been acting, and they would make up and everything would go back to normal.
I can’t wait, she thought as she threw her head back on the pillow at the head of the tub. After tonight, everything’s going to be OK.
Weslee took one last look at the table before she went to put on her dress. She took the salad out of the fridge. Everything looked so perfect with the new china she had bought at Bloomingdale’s on another minispree after she’d become infatuated with a home spread in Town & Country. Then she’d thought that her apartment needed a makeover because Duncan must have been so underwhelmed by her Crate & Barrel taste. Her cute furnishings, she’d decided, just didn’t cut it. Target wasn’t hitting the mark, and she needed to go way beyond Bed, Bath & Beyond. But she regretted it now, and the china had been on her list of things to return, but she just couldn’t part with it. She told herself that it could someday become a family heirloom. And that somehow made
it worth keeping.
She wasn’t too sure about the centerpiece. Arranging flowers had never been her strong suit. He probably won’t notice, she silently hoped. Again doubt flushed through her as she thought back to the pretty, confident, and well put-together girls that Lana had introduced her to at her parents’ place on the Vineyard. Bet those girls know all about arranging centerpieces. She sighed. Duncan loves me for me, and that’s all that matters.
The sirloin was still in the oven. She could smell it. But as good as it smelled, a part of her wished she had had the guts to try the French recipe she had seen in Bon Appetit. That might have really impressed him, shown him how worldly she could be. She decided not to worry. Duncan loved her cooking.
At five minutes past seven, she heard his key in the lock. She had to restrain herself from running to the door. Instead, she waited as she heard him enter the living room
“What smells so good?” he called out.
She walked out of the bedroom slowly, wearing her long, chocolate brown Parallel slip dress with the deep vee in the front and back, that moved with her long, slim body. It had the desired effect. He stopped cold in his tracks.
“Whoa. What’s the occasion?” He approached her with a sexy leer.
“Do we need one?”
He pulled her into his arms.
“I made dinner.” She tried to wriggle away.
“Nuh-uh. We’ll eat after.” He was nuzzling her neck.
She couldn’t say no. But the encounter was strained again as she found herself yearning for his kisses all over her body, his slow and gentle touch, the way he asked her what she wanted, the way he waited for her to climax first. He hadn’t done those things in what seemed like forever, and Weslee was beginning to wonder whether those “good” days had all been in her imagination. What was happening to him? Where did all the sweetness go? Tonight was supposed to be a new beginning, she thought as he moved quickly and mechanically on top of her. She just wanted it to be over.
Later, as they lay in each other’s arms, Weslee struggled to maintain a cheery disposition, but her disappointment fought back. Things had kind of gone in the reverse of the order that she had planned. But it was OK. They could go backward.
“Babe, we should go eat now.” She nudged him.
He yawned. “OK.”
She set the food before him, and he attacked it as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
She loved it when he ate like that. She was so glad she had honed her cooking skills in college. More than anything she had accomplished, it was a talent she was especially proud of.
She sat across from him and ate her salad. “Oh, honey, didn’t you have something you wanted to talk to me about?” She looked at him.
He looked up from his plate and then quickly looked down and kept eating. “Let’s talk about it later.”
She felt a pang inside. He was going back to London. She could feel it. He couldn’t even look at her. At least tonight wasn’t a total bust, she thought as she picked at her garlic mashed potatoes.
They ate in silence until his cell phone rang. He looked at the display and turned it off.
“You’re not going to take it?”
“Nah. I think it’s a wrong number.”
“Duncan, I’m really sorry about what happened the other day. I didn’t mean to accuse . . . rush you. I don’t know what came over me.”
He looked at her for a few long seconds. What came next was sudden and painful and hit like the crack of a baseball bat hitting a ball.
“Wes.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?”
“This. This thing. You. You and me. It’s just too much. I just have too much going on now. It’s just all too much. I can’t breathe.”
“Duncan . . .” She looked at him incredulously. “What are you saying?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She stared at him, waiting for him to explain, clarify, put it in plain English.
“I’m sorry,” he said, a final look in his eyes.
Her hand covered her mouth as she sprinted off to her bedroom and slammed the door.
He didn’t leave just then. Ten minutes later he knocked on the door. He knocked for two or three minutes. He didn’t hear anything when he put his ear to the door. He knocked again. She didn’t answer, so he walked out of her life.
Once she was sure he’d left for good, she walked out of the bedroom slowly. She felt numb. There was something, she assumed it was a knot of tears, stuck in her throat, but she couldn’t get it to rise. So she gulped and stood in the middle of her dining room. She looked around. It hadn’t been enough. None of it. Not the clothes, not the weekly spa treatments, not learning the names of all that awful sushi that he liked, not drinking those bitter wines, not the new sheets, curtains . . . It didn’t change the one thing that needed changing. Herself. I’m still the kind of girl that gets dumped, she thought. Michael, and now Duncan. She sat on the sofa, and the tears began to spill out of her eyes. She cried silently at first, and then the sobs sent tremors through her body until she lay on the floor, exhausted. What is it about me?
An hour later, she sat up and clenched her teeth. Her eyes felt leaden and painfully irritated. Can’t sit here and cry. Can’t. She walked slowly to the closet in the bedroom. There were price tags sticking out of blouses, dresses, pants, scarves, belts that had yet to be worn. She moved closer, smelled the leather, the newness of expensive fabric, and it repulsed her. She began to gather them in piles. Piles for Saks. Piles for Neiman Marcus. Piles for Max Mara. One small pile for Escada. Another for Versace. They would all go back. When she finished, she surveyed the room and took stock. Her heart and seventeen thousand three hundred and fifty-five dollars’ worth of clothes and shoes lay on the floor.
She undressed and put on her old worn-out track suit, laced up her Sauconys. She had to get out of that overdone, overpriced, sweet-smelling, creamy, cloying, and deceptively comfortable life that had brought her so much pain. She hit the pavement and ran into the night, not stopping until she had exhausted all the feeling from her mind and body.
Chapter 21
Weslee was glad she had brought what she called her second bible with her to Boston. She never thought she’d need it again once she knew for sure that she was over Michael and in love with Duncan.
Heal Your Heartache had gotten her through those interminable sleepless nights spent crying into her pillow after Michael left. It had kept her from calling him and begging him to take her back. It kept her from doing the crazy, desperate stuff that people do when they joined the ranks of the jilted.
It had been a whole week since Duncan had broken things off. He had called once to find out if she was OK. She had heard his voice on the answering machine but refused to pick up the phone. Part of the healing process was acceptance and no contact with the source of the pain. Acceptance was far down the road, but she was taking a shortcut. She really didn’t want to know the real reason why Duncan “couldn’t breathe.” What she wanted was to feel better. Hearing his voice just turned the knife in the wound.
The day after he had left, she actually went into a liquor store and bought a bottle of whiskey. She poured it into a glass but gagged on the first swallow. It was still sitting on the kitchen counter, almost full.
Sherry had come over and tried to drag her out to movies. That didn’t help. She had gone to class bravely, trained her clients at the gym, her thoughts about going out on her own now way in the back of her mind. She apologized to Marie as the opportunity for her to start building her client base came and went. Weslee only did what she had to do. She didn’t have the energy or the will to start anything new.
She imagined things. That Lana knew about the breakup and was intentionally baiting her. She ran into her more often now, Lana always in the company of two or three other women. They would whisper things and laugh. Weslee thought, For sure they are laughing at me.
On her one hysterical nig
ht, she had called home sobbing into the phone. Her father couldn’t calm her down. Her mother, worried, had offered to come to Boston. Her sister had told her to come home. She accepted neither offer. She also refused the advice that she should see a shrink or at least get a prescription for antidepressants. She would ride this out.
The first Friday night after the breakup came. And she supposed that she could have gone out dancing or to a movie with Sherry. But that was not the game plan she had in mind.
It’s OK to do crossword puzzles on a Friday night, she told herself.
The phone rang. And Weslee let it. It was Sherry.
“Girl, I’m worried about you. You need to get out of that little hole you’re in. Weslee? Weslee? Your family loves you, your other friends love you, and I love you, OK?” Weslee heard Sherry sighing on the machine. “Listen, hon. This guy did you a favor, a big one. You can do so much better than that selfish, arrogant . . . Oh Lord. Let me stop before I say something I’ll have to ask forgiveness for. Weslee? You OK? Call me if you need to talk.”
Weslee almost laughed out loud at Sherry’s persistence. But she just couldn’t take another pep talk. She had had enough.
The pain of losing Duncan was so unbearable that Weslee felt numb. She had cried for three nights straight and then nothing.
All she felt now was this hollowness inside and somehow strangely detached from herself. It was like she was watching herself go through the breakup and the aftermath. She kept waiting to find out what her next move would be. She kept waiting to break down again or to start screaming. Or to start acting crazy. But so far those things hadn’t happened. But she was waiting.
She Who Shops Page 16