“I don’t think so. Libraries are such different places from what they were twenty years ago.”
“How so?”
Gretchen shrugged. “They’re more like community centers now, busy and noisy, at least the public libraries are. The Southwood Library is private, funded mostly by an endowment and current donors rather than the town. So it still has the feel of the libraries of days gone by.”
“So work in a library like that.”
“Those jobs come up every half century,” said Gretchen. “I’d get the degree and then have to commute seventy miles every day to use it.”
“Not an option, right?”
“Definitely not an option,” said Gretchen. “But I have to find something to do.”
“It sounds like the empty nest is a challenge for you, too?”
They purchased two lipsticks each and then moved on to the eye section. Joan had black, thick lashes that matched her hair, so she hardly needed mascara, a feature all the Howard women had at one point or another remarked about and openly envied. Gretchen picked up a silver Bobbi Brown mascara case. “It’s more the papa bird,” she said, unscrewing the top and brushing her lashes.
“Elliot can be pretty high energy,” said Joan, a smile on her face in case the remark needed softening. “Is something new happening?” She picked up a case of gray and taupe eye shadow promising a smoky look, which reminded Joan, like many things did, of the casino. She put the case down.
“He’s high energy, and he’s high maintenance,” said Gretchen, studying her eyes in the mirror on the glass countertop. “He says that I can devote all my time to him since the kids are all gone.”
“What kind of devotion is he looking for?” asked Joan.
Gretchen looked at Joan. “Let’s see. He wants all his meals made from scratch using organic ingredients,” said Gretchen, using the index finger of her left hand to push back the pinky of her right hand, counting. “He wants the house to look as neat and ordered as a museum. And, he’s thinking I should put in a garden next summer, now that our neighbors are dropping off squash and tomatoes. He doesn’t have enough to do in his life? He has to dictate what I do with mine?”
“It sounds like you’ve moved from Southwood to Stepford,” said Joan, laughing. “What’s brought on this change?”
Gretchen gave one of Sandi’s hundred-dollar bills to the cashier. “Who knows? But he is up in my business, and I don’t like it.”
“Who would?” said Joan. “But now that I think about it, Raymond Senior is kind of like that with Sandi. He likes everything just so.”
Gretchen gasped. “You think Elliot’s turning into his father?”
“No, no,” said Joan, reassuring her sister-in-law. “But he might be less invasive if he knew you were out of the house and working at something you both found interesting. It might mitigate his urge to control you.”
“You really think so?” asked Gretchen.
“Maybe,” said Joan. “When Stephen was out of a job, he was like that for a while.”
“And you think my getting a job would change this behavior?”
“It’s worth a shot,” said Joan, paying the cashier.
“Maybe I will,” said Gretchen.
Joan knew that very second—even though Gretchen didn’t—that Gretchen would not explore this option. And as much as Joan liked Gretchen, this was the reason, she instantly realized, that she hadn’t called Gretchen to have coffee—because Gretchen was afraid to voice her own opinion, to break out of the mold for Howard women. Underneath her layers of fine, fitted clothing and perfectly applied makeup, she had no confidence, in herself or in her ability to do anything that she was not told to do. How different she was from Alice and Ellie. Sure, Alice’s grandstanding routinely annoyed Joan, but at least she stood for something. And Ellie, who had her own bookkeeping business and was considering coming out at almost fifty, was an inspiration. They, and women like them, were whom Joan wanted to spend her free time with. Joan removed the silk scarf from around her neck, similar to the scarves worn by Jill, Sylvia, Sandi, and Gretchen, and tucked it into her handbag.
CHAPTER 46
Alice suggested they go to the beach for lunch. She had been just once since the shooting, and she wanted to get back, to reclaim what she thought of as her territory. After they ordered their foot long dogs, the Wednesday special at the beach snack shack, they pounced on the last table on the deck of the pavilion, Ellie scurrying back to the crowded food window to ask for a washcloth to wipe up the dribbles of mustard and ketchup. Table cleaned, they all settled in under the large umbrella that provided the only available shade. Five minutes later, their number was called, and both Joan and Ellie stood to retrieve their order. When they left, Alice shifted her chair into the sun and closed her eyes for a moment, picturing Daisy. The puppy had been just what she needed to keep her mind away from the fact that she had pumped a bullet into another human being whom she had decided at the last possible moment not to exterminate. The events of that afternoon sometimes visited her in the night. More than once, she had awoken with a drenched nightshirt. She had not talked about it much, after the first rush of filling in the details for everyone she ran into in town who had read about it in the newspaper. And at this point, Ellie and Joan talked about it only when Alice brought it up.
Their conversation that day was, instead, about their youngest children returning to school, and the fact that the three women hadn’t seen much of them over the summer. Tim had been away at choir camp—visiting just once for a long weekend—but Liz and Linda had lived in their parents’ houses. And yet Joan and Alice had not spent anywhere close to the amount of time with their daughters that they had thought they would.
“I expected this great reunion,” said Alice, who had returned her chair to its original space under the umbrella. “You know, hanging out, eating dinner together. She was out more than she was in. And when she was in, she was on her phone.”
“Imagine that,” said Joan, breaking eye contact with Alice briefly to look at Alice’s cell phone on the table.
“I was, like, five hundredth on her list of people to be with,” said Alice, oblivious to Joan’s slight. “And poor Dave was even lower on the list.”
“It’s amazing what can happen in one year,” said Ellie. “We knew that Tim was going to be away, of course. But we thought he’d call once in a while. We got quick texts about how busy he was and how much fun he was having, but not much else.”
“Because they’re grown-ups now,” said Joan, smiling as she sipped a Diet Coke through a plastic straw.
“Oh, you got that grown-up thing, too?” said Alice. “What is that, actually, supposed to mean?”
“It means,” said Joan, “that they’re mature, independent adults and can make their own decisions. After all, that’s what they’ve been doing all year at school.”
“Give me a break, right?”
Joan laughed. “Yes! I’ve had to stop myself from telling Liz that as soon as she’s paying for everything in her life, then she can claim independence.”
“And just a year ago, they were still under our roofs and scared to death about the next step,” said Ellie, “even though they wouldn’t admit it.”
“Oh, Linda admitted it all right,” said Alice. “She wanted to stay with her mom forever.”
“Wait,” said Joan. “Did she say that before or after you bought her the car?”
“Very funny, smarty pants.”
Joan held up her hands. “You set yourself up for that one,” she said, grinning at Alice. “But you’re right. The huge transformation in Liz between this summer and last summer was something I didn’t expect, even though I’d gone through it with Cassie. I somehow thought the baby would be different. The nice thing though? Now that Cassie is twenty-five, she’s circling back around.” Joan took a deep breath, which attracted the attention of Alice and Ellie. “And speaking of Cassie—she’s engaged.”
“What?!” said Alice. “And you�
��ve waited how long to tell us? Wow, what great news!”
“It is great news,” said Joan. “Stephen and I really like her boyfriend, Jay. I guess I was hoping she, they, would wait a little longer.”
“They’ve been dating, what, four years now?” asked Alice.
“Yes, since they graduated from college. Now Jay has been offered a job in Portland, Maine, and he wants to take Cassie with him.”
“She wanted a ring to move from Massachusetts to Maine?” asked Alice.
“No,” said Joan. “I think she would have gladly moved there with him without a ring. It was his decision. He wanted to give her a ring.”
“Well, then, that’s kind of sweet,” said Alice.
“Congratulations,” said Ellie, in a tone that did not match the word.
“El?” said Joan.
Ellie started to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really happy for Cassie and Jay. And I’m happy for you and Stephen. But talking about marriage makes me realize what trouble I’m in. I’ve got to get out of my marriage, and I don’t know how. And I’m sorry to be such a self-centered idiot to bring this up when you’ve just shared some lovely news with us.”
“It’s okay,” said Joan, meaning it. “I will be talking about this wedding for the next six months, so we don’t need to dwell on it today. We can talk about you. How was your session with the counselor?”
“It was okay,” said Ellie. “She is encouraging me to move forward. She thinks it is the only option for me, now that I know who I am, if I want a shot at true happiness. And it is definitely the only way, in her opinion, to end my stomachaches.”
They ate quietly for a minute—Joan concentrating on the large order of French fries that she was splitting with Ellie, who wasn’t eating them, and Alice overchewing the bite of veggie dog in her mouth. “Look,” said Joan. “I have an idea. What are you guys up to for Labor Day?”
“Laboring,” said Ellie. “We’ll be cleaning out the garage.”
“Any time for socializing?” asked Joan.
“What do you have in mind?” asked Alice.
“A cookout at my house. Cassie and Jay will be home, and I thought it would be nice to have a small gathering. We’re doing a big thing with the Howard family on Saturday night. This would be a small gathering on Monday afternoon, with just our three families.”
“With our husbands?” asked Alice.
“With our husbands,” said Joan.
Alice looked at Joan. “Do we want to do this? Do we want to let them into the club?”
Joan laughed. “You’re joking.”
“I am joking—but I’m kind of serious, too. I like having my own thing with you two.”
“I know what you’re saying,” said Joan, “and I agree. But Stephen does ask me about you. He’s the one who suggested it.”
“No kidding,” said Alice.
Ellie took a small bite of her otherwise untouched hot dog. She wiped the relish from her lips and then said quietly, “What if I don’t have a husband by Labor Day?”
“You will still have a husband,” said Joan. “But maybe you will be able to talk to him by then.”
“I need to talk to him. I need to let this out,” said Ellie. “Things with Diana are . . . progressing, which I love and hate at the same time. I’m so confused.”
“Does this mean she wants to be with you, too?” asked Joan.
“Maybe,” said Ellie, making eye contact with her hot dog instead of with Alice or Joan. “She told me yesterday that she is open to the idea of dating.”
“Oh boy,” said Alice.
“Oh boy what?” asked Ellie, looking up from her lunch.
“This is going to sound harsh, especially since I know about all the turmoil you are going through. But, Ellie, you don’t want to start dating a woman until you get out of your current relationship with a man.”
Ellie sat back in her chair. “Number one: You don’t think I know that? And number two: I would have to get out of whatever relationship I was in—whether it was with a male or a female—to start dating again, whether I was interested in dating a male or a female.”
“Well said.” Joan closed her right hand into a fist and raised her thumb.
“You know what I meant,” said Alice. “First things first. You have to tell Chris.”
“Of course I do,” said Ellie. “I just don’t know how to do it.”
“There is no good way to tell him, Ellie,” said Alice. “You just need to sit down with him one night after dinner and tell him you’re a lesbian.”
“Just like that.”
“I know I’m making it sound easy—and I know it’s not easy. But if you are determined to change your life, you need to take steps to actually do it.”
Ellie dipped the corner of her paper napkin into her paper cup of water and wiped at a spot of mustard on her shorts. “Maybe I shouldn’t let it out,” she said, eyes on her stained shorts. “It’s going to hurt too many people.”
“It will hurt Chris,” said Joan. “But he may understand more than you think he will. And the same may be true for your boys.”
“What about my mom, my dad, and my brothers?”
Joan shrugged. “Hey, I’m sorry you are part of a homophobic family. But they are just going to have to suck it up.”
Ellie smiled at Joan’s comment, her first smile since they sat down. “I don’t think they know what that means.”
“Tell them your secret,” said Joan. “And they’ll figure it out.”
CHAPTER 47
In spite of the conversations she’d had with Joan and Alice and with Diana, and in spite of the promises she’d made to herself, Ellie had not been able to tell Chris. She had come close that morning, when the two of them were sitting at their kitchen table drinking coffee and talking about the day ahead. Chris worked for Kilcullen & Sons Construction in the summer months, a company owned and operated by Ellie’s Uncle Jack. This year, they were building houses in a new subdivision off Route 1. Chris loved the work—two of Ellie’s cousins had taught him everything they knew about carpentry in the fifteen years he had been a part of their summer crew—and he loved being outside all day. He came home every Monday through Friday thoroughly worn out, but also entirely satisfied with his day. No bureaucracy. No recalcitrant teenagers. And his good mood carried over into the next morning, which deterred Ellie from doing or saying anything to dampen it. She questioned whether telling him when he was in a bad mood made any sense—and it didn’t. Plus he was hardly ever in poor spirits. But confessing her secret to him, which would erase the permanent smile he wore on his face from the end of the school year until the beginning of the next one, was something that Ellie could not will herself to do, no matter what she told herself when she was alone with her thoughts.
She had never been good at confrontation—so unlike her mother, who didn’t kowtow to anyone, well, except for her father. Pat Kilcullen was a mostly measured, often quiet man, but he had expectations of his sons and his wife. The boys were to excel professionally, keep their marital bed sacred, and do their messiest merrymaking in private. Public drunkenness, in Pat’s opinion, was a sign of weak character. Brigid was allowed to do whatever she wanted to do, as long as it would not disgrace the family or the Roman Catholic Church. Pat was proud of Brigid’s fiery spirit and activism. But he came first. He was allowed these expectations because his sons and his wife didn’t challenge him. Sure, the boys had found their share of trouble when they were teenagers. But Pat, still six foot, three inches at eighty-two, had always straightened them out, bloodying their noses if necessary. He’d had expectations of Ellie too, but they were softer in nature: find a good man, make a good home, come to dinner when invited. He didn’t mind her working. Of course, he didn’t view her business in the same way that he looked at his sons’ professional lives. But he was pleased with the way that Ellie had been able to help with the household expenses while she raised her sons. Ellie knew that she had won her father’s affection mos
tly because, in one way, she was very much like her mother; they both carried ninety percent of the family weight without ever complaining.
Ellie brewed herself another cup of coffee and put a slice of bread into the toaster. When the toast popped, she covered it with peanut butter and grabbed the yellow legal pad she kept handy for jotting down groceries needed or things to do. She took the pad, toast, and fresh coffee back to the kitchen table, and reached for a pencil from the label-less soup can at its center. The can had sat there since her boys were in elementary school and did their math sheets and book reports under Ellie’s supervision while she cooked dinner. Repeating an exercise she had done several times already, she wrote Pros on the left side of the paper and Cons on the right side and started her list.
Pros:
1. I will finally be true to myself.
2. I can love someone I am meant to love.
After failing for five minutes to come up with a third Pro, Ellie shifted her attention to the right side of the paper, the easier assignment.
Cons:
1. I will break my husband’s heart.
2. I will break my sons’ hearts.
3. I will break every heart in the Kilcullen family.
4. I will lose every relationship that means something to me.
Ellie, realizing that she was weeping, as she had almost every day since she had told Diana her secret, put down her pencil. She was low again, even though she had been high twenty minutes ago when Diana called her. Ellie’s mood swings had become drastic and sudden, and she was having an increasingly difficult time hiding her emotions from Chris, Alice, and Joan. Her counselor—what Ellie called her even though she was a psychiatrist—had offered to prescribe antianxiety medication for Ellie. But Ellie had declined, preferring to think that her exercise regime, healthy eating, and adequate sleep would get her through this. But she had not been doing two out of the three for the last few weeks, food having lost its appeal and sleep impossible.
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