The Infidelity Pact
Page 5
“Two boys. Eight and six,” he said. “But what about you? Do you live here?”
She filled him in on her life, how she wrote for magazines, had two kids, lived in L.A. (“You can’t beat the weather”), and then they fell silent.
“Well, are you going in?” she said finally, motioning toward the men’s room.
“No, no, heading back to the table.”
“Okay, ’cause I’m gonna pop in here,” she said, motioning toward the women’s room. “But stop by on your way out. I’d love to meet your wife.”
“Sure, will do,” he said, his eyes remaining on Eliza. The music seemed to get louder and the lights darker, and Eliza was suddenly seized with the most incredible urge to turn back the clock and be back in high school, when you were allowed to have crushes and had no responsibility. But that was impossible.
“And Eliza, you look great. Exactly the same,” he said, before he turned and walked back toward his wife.
When Eliza returned to her table, Declan was in the middle of a story, so she sat quietly and let her thoughts travel. She was so curious about Mrs. Matthews. She couldn’t wait to see her. Was she blond? Probably. What if she was young and gorgeous? That would really be a bummer. She needed a visual. Who was the woman who captured the heart of Eliza’s first real love? The last time she had seen Greg, well, she couldn’t even remember what happened, really. But it had all ended terribly. Eliza’s boyfriend at the time, Danny, had found out that Eliza and Mr. Matthews were having an affair. In retribution for being cuckolded, he threatened exposure. So Mr. Matthews turned himself in and left the school, ending his relationship with Eliza. And now here he was.
She remembered the first time she knew that he liked her in a romantic way. It was subtle, but so exciting! Why couldn’t those beginning moments remain in relationships? She longed for the fluttering stomach, the heart leaping when the man comes into view. It was like that then. It had been a chilly fall night, typical weather in suburban Chicago, and she found herself leaving the library at the same time as Mr. Matthews. She sensed somehow that it wasn’t an accident. They were walking along, hands stuffed in their pockets, trying not to slide on the icy sidewalk, when he brought up something she had said in class:
“Why do you like T. S. Eliot?” he asked suddenly, looking at her with his head cocked to the side.
“T. S. Eliot? Oh, well, I don’t really like everything he wrote, but I like a lot. My favorite is ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’”
“What do you like about it?” he asked.
Eliza was about to give one of her pat answers, but then she stopped and thought before she spoke. He wasn’t the type of person you gave a standard answer to. He would understand. “I like that one part, just that one part, where he says, ‘I’m no prophet and here’s no great matter, but I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal footman hold my coat and snicker, and in short I was afraid.’”
Mr. Matthews stopped and looked at Eliza carefully. The wind blew a few wisps of her shoulder-length hair into her left eye, which she distractedly pushed back and hooked behind her ear. He gazed up at the sky, as if he was thinking about something hard, and then looked back at Eliza again.
“What is it about that part that you like, Eliza?” he asked finally.
It seemed as though he was asking a different question from the one he was actually asking. Eliza felt as if she had just revealed something so intimate to him, something that she never had told her family, her friends, or even Danny. Especially Danny. She somehow felt more exposed and naked than she had when she lost her virginity, and yet it was so much more exhilarating.
“It’s just a perfect way to say that we are all vulnerable…that life is ephemeral…that death is scary, and we are small,” she said, pulling up her collar around her neck. She suddenly felt chilled. “I like that when I read it, I feel like I want to do something different and special, and not live my life out in a generic suburb of a Midwestern city. There’s so much motion in that poem, ‘through the rooms the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo’…I mean, I know people ascribe all that latent homosexuality to parts and make a big deal about the peach, but I just like that it takes its time, and people are going somewhere.”
Eliza rambled, but she didn’t think she’d sounded dumb. She felt honest, and happy that she was finally able to speak her mind in front of Mr. Matthews. And there was something about the way he asked her what she was thinking or what she thought that was so different from the way Danny asked her. It was so much more mature and intelligent.
Mr. Matthews closed his eyes tightly and then opened them. His eyelashes seemed endless. “You’re right, Eliza.”
Before they could say anything else, they heard the cracking of leaves, and a large panting yellow Lab came up to them, followed by an elderly man holding its leash.
“Eliza,” she heard him say.
“Eliza?” asked Mr. Matthews again, and suddenly she was back in Brentwood, and married to Declan, and Mr. Matthews was at her table, standing next to a very thin, mousy, brown-haired woman who wore unfashionable glasses and had bad posture. Thank God—she was ugly! Was that so mean? Maybe, but if he had shown up with a fox she would have been tortured.
“This is Linda,” he said. “Linda, Eliza was my student.”
They made their introductions, and she was pleased to discover that Linda had a limp handshake, another mark against her. But why did she care? Eliza watched carefully as Greg leaned across the table to shake hands with Declan. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she sort of wanted Greg to pull Declan up and punch him out, to grab Eliza and say, “This is my woman!” and carry her off, but he did nothing, obviously. And with a blink, he had once again left Eliza’s life.
Declan returned to conversation with their friends, and Eliza was astounded that he didn’t even comprehend the gravity of the moment. She had never told him of her affair and was always secretly mortified by it. She’d slept with a teacher! She was supposed to be a good girl! But she realized with horror that she was now older than Mr. Matthews had been when they had an affair. God, time goes quickly! And it was disconcerting to see her old lover, because she didn’t especially feel anything for him—just for herself and all the years that had disappeared. The fact that most of life’s questions were answered for her made her sad. She knew who she’d be married to, what her kids’ names would be, where she’d live. Was that it? Was she never to experience love pangs again? And then she thought of the words of T. S. Eliot’s poem: I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal footman hold my coat and snicker, and in short, I was afraid. And she was. She was very afraid.
•• 8 ••
The second Girls’ Night Out that Victoria organized took place at Giorgio Baldi, a dimly lit celebrity-laden Italian restaurant right off the Pacific Coast Highway but with no view of the ocean. The food was delicious and the movie star spottings even more remarkable, which made it the perfect choice for a night away from husbands who always admonished their wives for gawking. (All except Justin, who actually stared at celebs even more than Victoria, who couldn’t care less about famous people the more she met them.) Since the restaurant was technically in Santa Monica, just down the hill from the Palisades, they decided to carpool, and Helen picked everyone up on her way.
They were shown to a table in the back corner, where Eliza and Leelee seated themselves on the banquette and Helen and Victoria took the chairs opposite. One quick scan of the room found Pierce Brosnan in the front, seated right next to the Spielbergs. The ladies discreetly noticed them but pretended not to, since being obvious would be tacky. They were now Angelinos, no need for ogling. Hell, their kids went to school with celebrities’ kids and they saw Golden Globe winners in the grocery store. Except, no matter how cool and casual they should be about their sightings, they were excited nonetheless. Fame was such a drug nowadays that every little hit made a difference.
“Okay, ladies, I have a plan,” began Victoria, watching with disapproval as Leelee broke off a piece of bread. She would never say anything, but she really believed Leelee needed to watch what she ate. She wasn’t fat, exactly, but she definitely had some extra pounds poking through that could so easily be shed if she would just take her up on her offer and come to kickboxing with her in Venice.
“We’re ready,” said Eliza, dusting some breadstick crumbs off the paper tablecloth in front of her.
“Hey, nice nails,” said Helen, grabbing Eliza’s hand. “Mademoiselle?”
“Fed Up, actually,” Eliza said with a smile, referring to her choice of nail color. “I finally had a chance to hit the nail salon.”
“Oh my God, I so need a manicure,” said Leelee, holding up her bitten-down nails. “But who has the time?”
“I ruin them the second I’m out the door of the nail place,” said Helen.
“That’s why I don’t do red anymore. Fed Up is natural,” said Eliza.
“I just remember when I was pregnant the first time, I’d get mani-pedis every week. I had, like, nothing else to do. And now it’s like a chore,” said Leelee. She always talked about how busy she was, how she was so overwhelmed and crazed, yet none of her friends could figure out what was so taxing. Sure, she had two kids, but they all had two kids (except Helen, who had one). But Leelee somehow seemed to have a harder time balancing—at least, that was the only thing they could come up with.
Victoria waited patiently while they all discussed their nails. She picked up the wine and started to refill glasses, until the waiter rushed over and took the bottle out of her hands to finish the job. The ladies stopped their discussion until he was done, then remembered that Victoria had gathered them there for a reason.
“Sorry, Vic, what did you have to tell us?” asked Eliza.
Victoria put her fingers on the edge of the table and pressed down lightly. Her bangles came clanging down her toned and tanned arm and stopped at her Cartier watch. “Okay, before I begin, I want to make sure that what I am about to say will be met with utter and complete open-mindedness and that you promise to hear me out,” she said sternly.
The rest of the ladies looked at one another and nodded. Victoria noticed Leelee suppress a slight giggle and felt her blood boil. Of all of her friends, Victoria was most worried about Leelee in terms of foiling her plan. Eliza was the hurdle, but once she was on board, she would be serious. Leelee, on the other hand, could be a problem. Leelee hid behind her humor, or maybe she was just incapable of anything more than topical conversation. It wasn’t that Leelee was always goofy and silly; it was that she wasn’t deep. Or at least she didn’t allow herself to be deep.
“Are you gonna tell us or what?” said Helen impatiently.
“Okay, but drink more,” said Victoria, filling their glasses up to the rim.
“Whoa, Nelly, I’m driving,” said Helen.
“I’ll drive,” insisted Victoria.
“Victoria, are you trying to get us wasted so that you can have your way with us?” joked Leelee.
“Sort of,” admitted Victoria.
“She wants to take us to bed!” Helen burst with a laugh.
“I knew it,” said Leelee.
“Come on, I need you to be serious, people,” said Victoria.
The waiter came over with a large plate of fried shiitake mushrooms with truffle-infused pecorino cheese, and the ladies paused to sample the fare.
“Oh my God, this is orgasmic,” said Helen.
“Amazing,” agreed Eliza.
Victoria watched as they oohed and aahed over the food and waited until they would return their attention to her. Finally, after several bites and moans of pleasure, they turned to Victoria.
“So what is this all about, Victoria?” asked Leelee. “Just spit it out.”
“All right, I will. Look, the other night we were talking about how unhappy we are. Don’t make that face, Eliza—we are…”
“I’m not unhappy,” protested Eliza.
“Look, I don’t mean we’re all suicidal, but I think there is a deep sadness going on with all of us. There’s an undercurrent of it. We are quote-unquote happy in our day-to-day lives, we have great, healthy kids, we have nice husbands—well, yours are—and we live a privileged existence where we can take nice vacations and go out to fancy restaurants. But the fact is, there is an unhappiness on another level—an existential level, if you will.” The last point was for Helen’s benefit, because that was the way to hook her. “We are closer to death. We know it. Didn’t we all discuss how after the birth of each of our children we had panic attacks at night about death? And we consoled each other by saying it’s the hormones, and we talked each other down, but the fear was very real.”
All of the women stopped eating and stared at Victoria. They remembered those attacks. They had all suffered from them. It was a combination of new motherhood, sleep deprivation, exhaustion, and hormones. Whatever the cause, they had all spent several nights alone feeding a newborn or two newborns, seized by the terror of how short life is. Eliza said that it was the horror of the realization that her brand-new infant would one day die that disturbed her the most. Victoria remembered waking up after she had the twins and realizing that all the frivolity of her life had ebbed away and now she was chained to other human beings. Leelee still felt like a young girl, and after the birth of each of her daughters it dawned on her that she had said “till death do us part” in her vows. Lauren’s birth had been traumatic for Helen. Her daughter was born with the umbilical cord around her neck, in a breech position, and it was touch and go for several hours. In fact, a resident was foolish enough to tell Helen not to get attached to the baby. Luckily Lauren had survived and was now a healthy young girl. But the resident’s words never left Helen, and she was somehow unable to bond with her only child.
“Okay, Victoria, you’re being really depressing,” said Eliza.
“I don’t want to be depressing. This is what I want to say. The other night when we were all complaining about being old and gray, I thought about how we are all in the throes of a midlife crisis. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, Leelee,” snapped Victoria.
“Midlife crisis? Isn’t that for forty-year-old men who run out and buy Maseratis?” asked Leelee, plucking a piece of bread from the basket and dipping it in olive oil.
“No, it isn’t. Because what is the average life expectancy? Isn’t it like seventy-something? So half that, and you get our age, early to midthirties. That is midlife. We’re halfway done,” said Victoria smugly.
“Okay, I thought we were going to have a nice, fun dinner, and now I need a razor to slash my wrists. Victoria!” wailed Eliza, taking a gulp of her wine.
Leelee patted Eliza on the hand. “Keep on drinking, honey.”
“I think it’s fascinating,” said Helen, who was still deep in thought, processing. “It’s true, we’re halfway done.”
“You see,” said Victoria, nodding. “I’m right.”
“So was this your big plan? To depress us?” asked Eliza.
“No, it’s not.”
The busboy came and took away the empty mushroom plate as the waiter placed each woman’s appetizer in front of her. Eliza had cannelloni beans with lobster, Helen had a mixed green salad, Leelee had the langoustines, and Victoria had beef carpaccio with Parmesan shavings.
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“Another bottle?” asked the waiter, holding up the empty wine bottle in his hands.
“Please.” Victoria nodded.
“Yes, we’re really going to need it,” sighed Eliza.
When the waiter left, Victoria looked at her friends. The mood had changed. They were no longer festive but pensive. Good. They were ready. “So here’s what I want to say,” she began.
“Pray tell,” said Leelee.
“Actually, for all of our morose whining about the state of our bodies and sexuality, we actually look really good. We’re still young, we’re fit”—she didn’t look at Leelee when she said the last part—“and we’re smart, sophisticated ladies. Yes, we have some cellulite and some grays, but in twenty years we’ll look back and kick ourselves because we never realized how good we had it.”
“All right, so you want us to be positive?” asked Helen. “This was just a little pep talk?”
“No,” said Victoria. She glanced at all of them and leaned in. “I think we each should have an affair.”
Leelee started to laugh, but when she saw that Victoria was serious she immediately stopped. Victoria hated to be laughed at. Eliza furrowed her brow in confusion, but only Helen took the news calmly.
“You’re joking,” said Eliza.
“I’m not,” said Victoria. And for the first time that evening, she took a bite of food. She savored the raw meat in her mouth as she watched her friends digest her suggestion.
“Okay, so many levels going on here,” said Eliza, smoothing the placemat in front of her. “Not sure I follow you. You’re saying we’re about to die, but we’re actually still young, or at least we look good, and we should cheat because we’re old?”
“First of all, I hate the word cheat. I mean, really, who invented that? I prefer the term ‘taking a lover.’ It’s very French. Look at Mitterand.”
“We’re not French,” said Eliza.
Victoria rolled her eyes. Eliza was such a goody-goody. “That’s irrelevant. The point I’m making is that marriage, as well as the laws of civilization, religion, and all of those ephemeral societal rules, are all relative. Things are in and then they are out. Like fashion. Every hundred years or so, it’s a new thing. Remember, Henry the eighth really modernized divorce.”