The Scarlet Letter Scandal

by Mary T. McCarthy

  Maggie: Not bad news exactly just something I saw today that I thought you should know about.

  Wes: Oh Lord, just spill it already.

  Maggie: I saw Alfred this morning coming out of Starbucks with…

  Wes: With…?

  Maggie: Don’t know I mean maybe it was someone he works with?

  Wes: Or not?

  Maggie: Or not. I really couldn’t be sure.

  Wes: …but they looked cozy or you wouldn’t be telling me.

  Maggie: I’m sorry.

  Wes: Don’t be sorry. He’s a man whore. I knew it when I married him. Will need deets.

  Maggie: Shit. Wanna have lunch? I bitch slapped someone today if that will cheer you up.

  Wes: WHAT?! Perfect. I always want to have lunch with my best girlfriend. Will text when I get this thing done.

  Maggie: I love you.

  Wes: I know. Thanks for that. LYT

  Maggie and Dave were thrilled that their daughters were home for Thanksgiving. Even the old cats Steinbeck and Grizabella were out and about more, hanging around the kitchen versus sleeping somewhere in upstairs rooms. The big stone Victorian house seemed empty with the girls away. After they’d left for college, Dave had designed a small first-floor apartment that didn’t take away from the home’s grand scale, but allowed for a first-floor master suite. Once you reached age fifty, steep nineteenth-century stairs became a bad idea. Upstairs, each daughter literally had her own apartment when they returned home for visits, complete with updated bathrooms, sitting rooms, and two bedrooms apiece in case a friend visited.

  Erica had graduated from Western Maryland University and was a graduate student in marketing at the esteemed Wharton MBA program at the University of Pennsylvania. She lived in a cute Manayunk neighborhood with her boyfriend, Al, also a student there, and they were both here for the holiday. Lilith was a sophomore at Syracuse and had taken the train home for the weekend from New York.

  Dave and Maggie had spent the day getting ready for the family meal. The dining room with its enormous curved glass bay window held an antique sideboard adorned with candelabras and a mix of antique china Maggie had acquired at auctions over the years. She loved a table where none of the plates matched. The girls had set a gorgeous table, the house smelled like only Thanksgiving Day can, and the kitchen was busy with the sounds of meal preparation and laughter.

  Finally, everything was ready and Maggie, Erica, Al, and Lilith were seated at the table. Dave was the last to appear, entering the room with the giant turkey platter.

  “Wait!” said Lilith. “I have to get the Norman Rockwell shot! Mom, stand next to Dad while he puts it on the table!”

  Maggie laughed. “Oh, God, as long as it’s for a picture and not a painting—I’m starving!”

  She turned to look at Dave. He’d put down the platter and now he was holding a small, open, robin’s egg–colored box.

  “Our love is what I am most thankful for, Maggie Hanson,” he said, getting down on one knee. The girls squealed as Lilith quickly stood and moved around to the side of the table. “Would you like to marry me again?”

  Maggie gasped, her hand over her mouth, sinking into her chair. She stared at the enormous rounded-corner square diamond. She had no idea what that style was called, but she loved it instantly.

  “Tiffany!” Maggie exclaimed. “How could I say no to that?! I love us, too, Dave. YES!”

  The girls laughed and joined Al in a hearty round of applause. Dave slipped the ring onto Maggie’s finger. They hugged, and tenderly kissed. Erica stood and raised a champagne glass. Maggie admired the brand new bling on her left hand as she picked up her glass.

  “To our parents,” Erica said, “whose love we’re thankful will last forever.”

  Antique unmatched champagne glasses clinked and a tear slid down Maggie’s cheek as she felt the warm glow of her family, and the happiness she’d searched for but finally found in her own home.

  Cindy, who was never really thrilled to return to her hometown, pulled her Toyota Avalon hybrid into her older sister Jeannie’s driveway. She had been driving for twelve hours, stopped only a few times, and was exhausted. She dropped her daughter, Abbie, off overnight at her in-laws’ house upon getting Jeannie’s call, concerned that her sister had sounded more simultaneously depressed and panicked at the same time than she’d ever heard her. Cindy was used to Jeannie’s melodrama, her obsession with perfection, her coldness, and many other unpleasant things about her, but she was not accustomed to Jeannie asking her for help. In fact, she thought back over her thirty-eight-year life and could think of few times her sister had truly sought her assistance on anything, if ever. It was why Cindy had dropped everything and driven all the way from Maine to Maryland. Something was up.

  Cindy gathered things—a hastily packed overnight bag, the handmade quilted purse she’d bought from an artist friend at their local farmer’s market, and a tinfoil package of chocolate brownies. She grabbed them from her freezer after debating; they were pot brownies she’d made when her environmental book club had come over the week before—stored in the freezer so Abbie didn’t accidentally eat them. Cindy didn’t want Jeannie’s kids to eat them either, so she’d have to be careful. Her sister would kill her if she knew about the marijuana, but man, if anyone alive needed to chill out a little, it was Cindy’s sister Jeannie. Cindy also figured she’d need to be a little baked just to deal with her high-strung sister.

  Jeannie opened the door, starting a formal speech thanking her for driving down, and Cindy just walked over and hugged her. Jeannie stiffened. Cindy knew she wasn’t a hugger but intimacy was probably also one of her issues. She could really use to get stoned and laid, thought Cindy for the thousandth time in their adulthood.

  The sisters went inside, alone for two more hours until Jeannie’s kids came home.

  “Thanks so much for coming. I didn’t know who else to call,” said Jeannie. “I’m so sorry for…”

  “Stop,” said Cindy. “You don’t apologize or thank your own sibling for coming when you need her.”

  “There are just too many things going on for me to…” Jeannie hesitated, not at all used to admitting weakness. “I am just not familiar enough with computers and the Internet…”

  “It’s fine!” said Cindy. “I’m here! Now put on a pot of coffee. I have some brownies we can snack on.”

  “That was thoughtful,” said Jeannie. “I don’t want it to ruin our dinner though. How is everything with you?”

  Cindy pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, taking in the flawlessly clean room, so unlike her own messy dining area at home.

  “Great,” she said. “Abbie’s doing well, chickens are laying, farm stand is doing fantastic. Honeybee production is up, so we are making more beeswax products this year.”

  “Well, that’s all good. But I still don’t understand how you can homeschool her,” said Jeannie. “How strict are the state testing requirements?”

  “Look, let’s not get into all that,” said Cindy. She had vowed to avoid confrontation with her older sister no matter how much Jeannie, ever critical, might try to pick a fight. “We’re here to talk about you and what’s going on here.”

  Jeannie set about getting the coffee ready, and Cindy unwrapped the tinfoil, grabbed some paper towels, and placed a brownie each in front of their places, picking up an extra one and taking a bite. I need to pre-game this conversation.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” said Jeannie. “You know about the so-called swingers’ club in my neighborhood already since you brought it to my attention in the first place.”

  Cindy nodded her head, chewing a bite of brownie.

  “How’s that whole thing going anyway?” asked Cindy.

  Jeannie walked over to the table and put down the two cups of coffee. She looked at the brownie.

  “You know we’re going to eat dinner in a few hours,” she said.

  Cindy replied, “Oh, come on, sis, one brownie isn’t going to mess
up your entire diet.”

  Jeannie was too tired to argue. She’d never have eaten chocolate in the middle of the day like this, but she figured it was made out of some kind of organic gluten-free stuff knowing her sister, so she picked it up and took a bite.

  “Not bad,” said Jeannie. “Interesting flavor.”

  “They’re vegan,” said Cindy. “So come on, spill. I drove all day!”

  Cindy drank coffee and finished her first brownie while Jeannie talked.

  “I accidentally found a letter that said Chaz wanted to quit the homeowners association,” said Jeannie, swallowing down the bite of her snack with a sip of coffee. “It was mortifying. He hadn’t even told me he was going to try to resign. And in the letter he was really blasé about the sex club. And then the night of the sex club party I drove around the neighborhood even though the kids were sleeping and Chaz wasn’t home but his car was around the corner and Hank’s house was dark and…”

  Jeannie’s voice had gotten higher-pitched and slightly more hysterical as she spoke. Cindy waited for her to catch her breath, happy to see her sister take a sip of coffee and eat another bite of the brownie as though she needed to do something with her mouth other than keep talking.

  “Whoa, slow down, sis,” said Cindy, thankful to be feeling the buzz from the first brownie as she took a bite from the second. “Do you have a copy of this letter?”

  “No,” said Jeannie. “I didn’t want him to know I found it so I ripped it up and threw it out.”

  “Are you suspicious he is attending the swinger parties?” asked Cindy.

  “I don’t know,” said Jeannie. She was quiet for a moment, chewing. She hadn’t realized she’d been hungry but had already finished most of the brownie. She sipped her coffee for a minute, thinking.

  “Do you have any evidence that he’s been going there?” Cindy asked.

  “He’s never home,” admitted Jeannie. “He says it’s work or it’s homeowners association stuff or it’s hockey league stuff, but I know when all those things are. And so that’s why I asked you here—I need help figuring out what exactly is going on.”

  “Whoa, now. You want me to try to figure out…what—if Chaz is having an affair or something?” asked Cindy. “Is that what you think is happening?”

  “I hadn’t really thought of it that way,” said Jeannie. “But I guess that could be true. I mean since the kids came along we don’t really…”

  “You don’t really what? Have sex with your husband?” asked Cindy, stifling a guffaw in her throat by swallowing down the last bite of the second brownie and chasing it with a gulp of coffee. “Hey, I don’t mean to be blatant about it, but you can’t tell me you guys haven’t done it in the last six years since Kaylah was born?”

  “I certainly didn’t bring you halfway across the country to talk about my sex life!” said Jeannie. She was finished with the brownie but as she went to clear the paper towel, Cindy had already placed another brownie there. Instead of protesting, Jeannie found herself picking it up to eat another bite.

  Cindy sat back, taking a deep breath to relax, glad she was finally able to do so.

  “I’m here to talk about whatever you want to talk about, big sis,” said Cindy, and she smiled at her sibling. Growing up for nearly four decades with Jeannie in her life, Cindy knew better than to try to lead a conversation. It was better to just go along for the ride. Glancing at her phone, Cindy figured if everything went well she’d be home by tomorrow night, having done her sisterly duty, and she would enjoy the drive all the way back to her tiny farm.

  “I know you do a lot for your business on computers,” began Jeannie.

  “Ahhhh, okay. So you want me to hack into the hubby’s desktop and see what we can see?” asked Cindy.

  Jeannie blushed. She for some reason was having a hard time putting what she was thinking into the words she wanted to say, which seemed bizarre.

  “I don’t think… I mean maybe you could—or if you think there is any way?” said Jeannie.

  Cindy smiled. Jeannie’s demeanor had changed slightly. Having finished the second brownie (these were strong; she and her friends didn’t play), Jeannie was relaxed in her seat, her former perfectly straight posture now more slack.

  Cindy, much more accustomed to the effects of marijuana, was not outwardly affected by it, just enjoying its calming effects at a perfect time.

  “Let’s go into the office,” said Cindy, “and see what we can find out.”

  Jeannie stood up, finished off the last bite of her brownie, took a drink of her coffee, and followed her younger sister into the front room.

  “Why don’t you take a look through the filing cabinet while I see if I can get into his email?” said Cindy.

  Jeannie complied, opening the filing cabinet drawer, not exactly sure what she was looking for.

  Cindy first had to tackle the desktop password, trying each of the kids’ birthdays, and their wedding anniversary, then pausing to think for a minute. Chaz. Hmm. Well, let’s see, he’s not the smartest jock in the locker room… She instinctively tried Chaz070469, remembering his birthday was the Fourth of July and the year had seemed appropriate for someone Cindy always thought was a little smarmy. She wasn’t sure she was giving him too much credit remembering to capitalize a letter for his first name but BAM! She was in.

  She sat back. Jeannie asked if anything had worked. Suddenly Cindy realized that she had unlocked a door to a room she didn’t necessarily want to enter. Who knew what was on this computer? And she was going to have to sit here right next to her sister and see it?

  Jeannie pulled out two files from the cabinet, one marked “HOA” and one marked ”HOCKEY,” and a loose letter fell out onto the floor from between the files. It was on legal letterhead and was dated two weeks before. She didn’t remember seeing it come in the mail; she would’ve noticed. She sat down in the guest chair to open the letter and read it.

  “Oh my Jesus…” Jeannie said.

  “Did you just cuss, sis?” said Cindy, who was just opening Chaz’s email account page. The windows hadn’t been closed since he last used the computer so luckily no password was needed.

  “This…” she stammered, holding out the letter. She held it away from her body as though it smelled very bad. Her hand was over her mouth and just when Cindy thought she was about to cry, she started laughing.

  Jeannie laughed, long and hard, until tears were running down her face. It was the kind of laughter you couldn’t stop if you tried—a nonsensical, near-hysterical cackle that wasn’t happy but wasn’t quite insanity. To Cindy it was just…unfamiliar. Jeannie wasn’t much of a laugher, in fact was the most serious person she knew.

  Cindy waited, thankful she’d brought the magical brownies that had turned whatever horror there was in that letter into something Jeannie, at least for the moment, found hysterically funny. She took the letter from her sister and her eyes widened as she read and certain key phrases jumped out at her:

  “…our recent consultation about the embezzlement charges against you…met with the homeowners association attorney…police department gathering evidence…as I mentioned on the phone…don’t know whether we will be able to avoid an arrest…”

  Cindy dropped the letter onto the desk.

  “Oh, shit. Oh, honey. Oh my God, I don’t even know what to say,” said Cindy.

  Jeannie dried the tears from her eyes, her body still shaking with the efforts of trying to stop laughing.

  “All this time—nearly fifty years on this earth and all I’ve ever tried to do is the right thing,” said Jeannie. “It’s so funny now. Why do I do that? My perfect little life is going to shatter into a million pieces. I will not let myself be embarrassed by him.”

  She stood up, taking a tissue from a side table.

  “And the worst thing. Even worse than this. I hosted a jewelry party. One of those stupid damned jewelry parties that all these women are all having, because one of the hockey women asked me to. AND NO ONE CAME TO I
T.” Jeannie was laughing and crying at the same time, intermittently snorting on the edge of hysterics as her carefully constructed façade crumbled. “Just the hockey mom in her slutty blouse and her table full of cheap jewelry, and me. I bought three hundred dollars’ worth because I was so humiliated. That’s my life.”

  Cindy turned to the computer, thinking there weren’t enough pot brownies on the planet for this sobering cookie-cutter dystopian hell. Yet the computer screen in front of her held more bad news, and she figured all of it may as well hit her sister at once.

  “There’s an invitation,” said Cindy, “to a New Year’s Eve toga party at Rocks Lifestyle Club… It’s addressed to ‘All Our Members.’ But there’s a personal note from Kellie at the beginning: ‘Sorry I missed seeing you at the masquerade party. You know you don’t wanna miss this one! See ya there! xoxo Kellie.’”

  “He. Will not. Ruin me,” said Jeannie. “That slimy, conniving son of a bitch, I will not let him…”

  The buzz had indeed faded as the realities set in around the two sisters. Jeannie had stopped laughing and now quivered with what seemed a lot more like rage.

  “No, sis,” said Cindy. “We are going to get you through this. I don’t know how, but everything’s going to be okay.”

  “I did not do anything to deserve this,” said Jeannie. “This is not the sort of thing that happens to me. I WATER PLANTS and SWIFFER DAILY and DO HIS PAPERWORK and RUN A DAMN WELCOMING BASKET COMMITTEE. My SIDEWALK is always EDGED and there are NO KIDS’ TOYS IN MY LAWN!!!”

  Cindy turned off the computer. “Okay, Jeannie, look, I think we’ve had enough bad news for one day. Let’s take it easy. Why don’t we open a bottle of wine and…”

  “I don’t drink wine during the day or ever!” said Jeannie. Her breaths were coming in short spurts and her cheeks were flushed and Cindy was starting to get worried. “I let Kellie into my home. That lying whore.”

  “I brought wine,” said Cindy. “It’s organic, so it won’t give you a migraine. Why don’t I order a pizza for dinner and we can just sit with the kids and watch a movie?”