Elyse looked taken aback, realizing that Grace had a point. “Those guys are millionaires. Franklin and I are hardly in their league,” she finally said.
“So you don’t have a thirty-room mansion. You still live in one of the nicest suburbs in Lake County. Plus, I’m sure you mentioned that both your children live in campus housing down in Champaign,” Grace concluded. “A person doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that you’re no pauper. Kevin is an exterminator. You have to consider that his kissing you all of a sudden might be related to the fact that you’re well off and your husband is in failing health.”
Pat slammed her palm down on the table. “Grace, do you have to be so damn blunt?”
“No, Pat, it’s all right,” Elyse said quietly. She hoped that her two friends’ truce wasn’t about to go out the window, for she couldn’t deny that Grace had a valid point. “It’s something I have to consider.”
“You’d be nuts not to,” Grace said, casually buttering a roll.
“Do you get that a lot, Grace?” Elyse asked. “Guys with ulterior motives for dating you?”
“Yes, Grace, do you get that a lot?” Pat asked with a smile.
Grace’s suddenly stiff body language relayed that she didn’t enjoy having the focus shift to her. “Yes, it’s been a problem before,” she admitted. “As you well know,” she added, her eyes fixated on Pat, “that’s why I broke up with Eric. If he wasn’t asking for the keys to my car and my house so he could ‘watch’ them for me while I’m traveling, he was making really cutting remarks about my job.” She bit into her roll. “I just decided he wasn’t worth it anymore.”
“I think you made the right decision,” Elyse said gently. She felt rather sorry for Grace, who, with her two failed marriages and countless affairs, brought new meaning to the expression “unlucky in love.”
“He’s really no different than the rest. They all feel threatened by my education and my income.” She shrugged. “It’s hard to find suitable black men out there to go out with.”
“You’ve just outgrown him, that’s all,” Pat said. “You know, you can always see Glenn Arterbridge. He asked me about you just last week.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Not that again. He’s a nice man, good-looking and all that, but there’s no sex appeal. And without that, why bother?”
Susan watched the exchange curiously. “Maybe you ought to lower your standards just a little bit, Grace. Where there’s good looks there’s always sex appeal.”
“Yeah, somewhere in that fifty-inch waistline.”
Susan blinked. Fifty-inch waistline? Ugh. “Oh.” She turned to Pat. “Pat, I know you’ve got a boyfriend, but did you have as much difficulty as Grace trying to find good dates?”
“No, not really. But I never went out as much as Grace. I decided I’d rather be by myself than be with somebody just for the sake of being with them.”
“Well, la-de-da,” Grace said. “Elyse, Pat’s no different from me. She just goes out with white guys instead of black ones.”
“That’s not true, Grace,” Pat protested. “You make it sound like I date white men exclusively. I can’t help it if I have more in common with the white guys I come across. All the successful black guys are married. And I won’t go out with guys who don’t have a level of education and success that’s reasonably comparable with mine.”
“In other words, no moving-and-storage guys,” Grace said knowingly. “And no Orkin men, either.”
“I hate to sound like a snob, and I wish that wasn’t the way it is, but it’s a rare man who can handle having a woman who’s more successful than he is. I would have loved to have fallen in love with a nice black man, at least before I hooked up with Andy.”
“I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you finally bring him home to meet your mama and daddy,” Grace said. She caught Susan’s eye. “See what you’re missing out on by being happily married, Susan? All this men drama.”
“Um . . . Maybe I’m not so happily married.”
Three voices spoke a single syllable in unison. “What?”
“There’re some things going on in my life that you don’t know about, but I decided it’s time to talk to someone,” Susan said. She told her friends about how breast cancer had destroyed the passion in her marriage, and how she reached out to Charles Valentine and fell in love all over again. As she expected, her friends at first expressed shock at learning she was a cancer patient. It warmed Susan’s heart when they assured her how wonderful she looked.
“Thanks. I feel good. I just try to take it six months at a time.” But she didn’t want to focus on her illness, not with what Elyse was going through with Franklin. Instead she recounted how she and Charles had broken up after he continually pressed her to leave Bruce for him, and how she lost her temper and asked how he intended to support her and her children.
“Ouch,” Elyse said. “That’s probably the worst thing you can do to a man. Attack him in the pocketbook.”
“I couldn’t help it, Elyse. It wasn’t fair for him to nag me about leaving Bruce when he had no plans for what would happen after that.”
Elyse nodded. “True.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been having an affair,” Grace said. “You’d leave Bruce for Charles? You said it yourself, Susan. No way can he provide for you the way Bruce can.”
“And you said it yourself, Grace. You’ve got to have sex appeal to have a happy relationship. As far as my husband is concerned, I don’t have any.”
“Susan, it seems to me that you’re being hypocritical,” Elyse said. “You tell me not to have an affair with Kevin, but you slept with Charles.”
“And now that it’s over, I feel worse than ever. And Elyse, I truly believe that if you sleep with Kevin or anyone else while Franklin is on his deathbed, you’ll never forgive yourself. I think it will haunt you always. Nothing makes cheating right.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one being criticized all the time.” Her head was bent, and tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
“Elyse, if you sleep with Kevin, you’ll only be doing it to soothe your pride. You’ll hate yourself afterward. And you’ll always regret cheating on Franklin.”
“Yeah, well, did you regret cheating on Bruce?”
“No,” Susan admitted. “But I know he has someone else. Franklin is coping with a serious illness. That’s different. I know how that feels, too, and I think it’s even more difficult for men.” She tried a different tack. “Listen, I’m not saying not to have an affair with Kevin. I’m just saying don’t do it now, while Franklin is still your husband. At least wait until he’s gone.”
Elyse blew her nose. “I understand what you mean. I truly do love my husband. But lately I don’t like him at all.”
“I wish there was something I could do,” Grace said. “I’m in complete shock. I thought you two both had great marriages. And I never dreamed that you were ill, Susan. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because I wanted to keep it personal.” She wanted to smack Grace. Even as Grace had spoken, her eyes kept going to Susan’s chest, like she was thinking, Now, which one was it again? And Grace had the nerve to ask why she’d kept her condition secret?
“Franklin is the same way,” Elyse said. “I understand how you feel, Susan.”
“But what are you going to do?” Pat asked. “Will you just keep on living with Bruce?”
“No. I decided that if I can’t have a hundred percent of the man I’m with, I’d rather not have him at all, even it means being out there by myself. I was hoping you might be able to give me some pointers, Pat.”
“Divorce isn’t my specialty, Susan,” Pat began. “But have you considered talking to Bruce? You say there’s no real acrimony between you. Maybe the two of you can work out something between you without getting the court involved.”
“Of course, when I was married to Jimmy we didn’t have the proverbial pot,” Grace said, “but my divorce from Danny was
amicable. We sold the condo, split the proceeds, and I bought the one I live in now.”
“You and Danny didn’t have kids together,” Susan pointed out. “And you make a lot more money than I do. I’m an experienced accountant, but I lost eleven years. This job I have now only brings in pin money. I’d have a lot of trouble trying to run a household unless I could bring in a lot more cash.”
“Susan, do you really think that Bruce would allow you and the kids to live hand to mouth?” Elyse asked.
“That’s just it; I don’t know. Bruce has always been generous with money, but once I tell him I want a divorce his whole attitude might change. For all I know, he might want custody of Quentin and Alyssa, just to be spiteful.”
“Wisconsin is a community property state, isn’t it?” Pat pondered.
“Yes, it is. That means Bruce risks half of everything he has in a divorce.”
“In that case, don’t tell him you’re divorcing him until the very last minute,” Grace said. “You don’t want to give him time to hide assets. And don’t tell him about Charles. Even if it’s over between the two of you, he might use that against you.”
Elyse looked sad, and Susan knew she was thinking about the state of her own marriage. “I like to think that Susan and Bruce can end their marriage in a dignified manner,” she said quietly.
Grace plunged on, ignoring Elyse’s suggestion. “And if you think he’s cheating, Susan, get a PI to follow him and make a report.”
“Grace has a point, Susan,” Pat said reluctantly. “If you can prove Bruce is cheating on you, it’ll be great leverage for you in a settlement. He’s less likely to fight for custody of the kids or try to screw you out of your fair share. And since you’re not seeing Charles anymore, even if he has you followed, nothing will turn up that he can use against you.”
“I say tell the PI to carry a camera and catch the motherfucker in the act,” Grace said, pounding the tabletop for emphasis. “Then confront him about it with copies of the photos and take him for half of everything he’s got.”
“Grace, are you all right?” Susan asked. She didn’t know what to make of Grace’s vehemence.
“No, I’m pissed. I’m fifty years old and I can’t get a damn date.”
Susan tried to think of something positive to say. “You look great, Grace. Fifty really agrees with you.”
“Gee, thanks, Susan.”
Elyse frowned. Didn’t Grace realize Susan had just paid her a compliment? “I don’t know why you’re acting like Susan told you you’ve got bad breath or something. Hell, we’ll all be fifty by the end of the year.”
“Yeah, but I’m fifty now.”
“Consider the alternative,” Susan snapped.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Grace smiled. “But since you and Charles broke up because you were afraid to get a divorce, and now you’ve decided to get one, maybe you two can get back together again.”
Elyse and Pat both looked on, hope in their faces. But Susan shook her head. “I haven’t heard from him at all since I lashed out at him. I know he’s very upset with me. And don’t forget, this is the second time I broke things off with him. And nothing was solved about where or how we’d live. Charles kept saying he could take care of my kids and me, but frankly, I don’t see how. He’s lived in that one-bedroom apartment in his mother’s house for decades, and even if his place were big enough, Quentin and Alyssa aren’t really city kids. I think they’d hate living in Chicago.”
“Maybe his mother will trade places with him. She doesn’t need all those rooms anymore,” Pat said.
“And Hyde Park is considerably nicer than Dreiser,” Elyse remarked.
“First, Ann Valentine hates me, so she’s not about to go out of her way to accommodate me. Second, Hyde Park is still the city. Hell, just a few months ago Carol Mosely Braun got attacked at her front door by a man with a knife who’d been hiding in the bushes.”
“I hope you can work it out,” Elyse said. “That man loves you, Susan. I could see it in his eyes that night at Junior’s Bar.”
“I love a happy ending,” Grace said dreamily. “I still hope I’ll get to have one.”
A silence fell over the table as each woman thought about what would make her happy:
I wish that Franklin will recover, that things could be like they used to be....
I wish that my parents will accept Andy, and that Grace had left Ricky alone. . . .
I wish I could get my divorce, keep my kids, and be with Charles . . . if he still wants me. . . .
I wish I had a nice man to settle down with....
Chapter 51
Late October
Chicago
A familiar feeling of dread came over Elyse as she turned onto the street where she lived. She hated coming home these days, since Franklin had started acting so badly. She’d heard people in unhappy marriages say that, but she never expected to be one of them.
She got out of her car without hesitation. Her unhappiness with his attitude aside, it was her responsibility to take care of Franklin. Brontë and Todd were at home with him, but she wanted to check on him as well. Maybe he’d finally gotten over this foolishness. It had been a week already, the worst week of her life.
Seeing her friends had helped her spirits tremendously. At least she knew that there were people who cared. Between the coldness of Franklin and her stepchildren and her own children’s bewilderment, she needed to know she had allies. And it was best for any warm, tingly feelings to come from her girlfriends rather than from Kevin.
Elyse knew Susan had been right to warn her to stay away from Kevin. They had done nothing wrong, well, other than that kiss. Rebecca witnessed a perfectly innocent scene at lunch. Elyse felt falsely accused, but she knew, because of the impression they’d given, it would be foolish to spend additional time with him.
As Elyse walked into the living room Brontë looked up from the book she was reading. “How was lunch, Mom?”
“It was a lot of fun. How’s Daddy?”
“He’s okay. Todd is in there with him.”
“Did he eat?”
“Not a whole lot.”
Elyse’s heart sank. The more weight Franklin lost, the more strength went with it. He’d gotten so thin.
She entered the bedroom. “Hi, there! I’m back.”
“Hi, Mom,” Todd said. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes, I did. It was good to see the girls.”
Franklin merely grunted.
She laid down her purse and hung up her jacket before sitting on the bed. Franklin and Todd sat in the two matching recliners with a table between them. “Brontë tells me you didn’t eat much, Franklin. Can I fix something for you? You’ve got to eat to keep your strength up.”
“Too bad you can’t give me some of that extra fat you’re carting around.”
She drew in her breath. “Franklin! What an awful thing to say.”
Even Todd looked startled.
“There’d still be plenty left over for your boyfriend.”
“Dad—” Todd began.
“Stay out of this, Todd.”
“Damn it, Franklin, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m not cheating on you?” Elyse was near tears. She hadn’t been in the house five minutes and he was starting in on her already.
He looked at her coldly. “I guess he likes his women fat.”
A defiant Elyse returned the stare, determined that he wouldn’t see her crumble. “All right, then, don’t eat. Waste away to nothing! See if I care.”
“Mom!”
She turned on her heel and left, slamming the door shut behind her. Already she regretted what she’d said, but damn it, she couldn’t help it. What was she supposed to do, collapse in a crying heap and beg him not to say such cruel things? Damn Franklin for bringing out the worst in her.
She whizzed through the living room and up the stairs, too upset to respond to Brontë’s urgent, repeated question about what was wrong. In the privacy of the guest be
droom she fell across the bed, sobbing.
She’d been praying for strength ever since Franklin’s diagnosis. His terminal condition after such a promising start had nonetheless come as a shock, in spite of her having had months to consider the possibility. But why was he giving her such a hard time? Did he have no confidence in her love for him at all? She’d been so sure all these years that they had a strong marriage. Now he was dying, and she feared he would go to his grave and leave her nothing but cruel taunts to remember him by. Of course she had many happy memories of their twenty-six years together, but the bad ones had a way of taking center stage, especially if they were the most recent.
Someone knocked at the door, followed by the sound of the door opening. “Mom, I’m sorry,” Todd said.
Brontë, on his heels, sat on the edge of the mattress to the double bed. “Are you all right, Mom?”
Elyse struggled to control her tears. “I’m all right. And you have nothing to be sorry for, Todd. It’s your father who’s behaving badly.”
“I couldn’t believe the things he said to you. I don’t want him to die, Mom, but it’s not right for him to take out his frustration on you.”
She absorbed his words. “Do you think that’s what it is? That he’s angry at dying and is taking it out on me?”
“Mom, there’s no way Dad can believe you’re cheating on him. I don’t know what else it can be. Has he been this way since that incident last weekend?”
She nodded.
“I think Rebecca should have kept her mouth shut,” Brontë said.
“Are you going to stay up here tonight?” Todd asked.
She sighed. “I was thinking about it. But I don’t want to be too far away from your father. He might need . . . something.” She’d almost said, “me.” That was silly. She was the last person he’d need.
“I can stay in the room with him tonight. I think you deserve a break. As it is, I feel awful about having to leave tomorrow. But maybe I can talk some sense into him before we go.”
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