by Joan Boswell
Looking at Caroline that mellow spring afternoon, the sun spilling across her hair and face from the coffee shop window, I noticed the spidery lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there on our last meeting the summer before, for even though we lived at opposite ends of the city, we met infrequently. Caroline spent a great deal of time travelling, especially during the winter months, and we’d fallen into the habit of corresponding by e-mail, even when she was home. I preferred it that way, since I was able to control how much I revealed to her about my life. I’d been somewhat surprised, therefore, to get her message the day before asking me to meet her.
“I thought you’d given up smoking,” I said, watching her shake a cigarette from a packet that she threw back into her purse. Head bent, she jerkily rummaged around in her bag until she pulled out a silver lighter with her initials engraved in flowery script. She lit her cigarette and sucked in a deep draught, sitting back as the tension left her shoulders and smoke spewed from her nostrils.
“God knows, I’ve tried.” She shrugged and turned up her palms on the table. “Phil had a real thing about my smoking, if you remember, so I pretended I’d quit. Maybe, that’s what you remember.”
Phil. Husband number three. Caroline had met him on a Club Med holiday and married him a month later. He’d been a lean, loud man with a receding hairline, if memory served. Caroline was currently working on number five.
“How’s Gerry?”
“Oh, all right. We haven’t been getting along so well lately. I’m considering my options.”
That could only mean she’d spoken with her lawyer. Caroline never came out of her marriages without a chunk of money. She was amazingly mercenary for a product of the hippie generation.
“Will he go quietly? As I recall, the others weren’t too happy about getting the boot.”
Caroline tilted her head and squinted at me through a veil of cigarette smoke. “He’s lucky I’ve given him this long.”
“You must be seeing someone else. Anybody I know?” Caroline hadn’t lived alone since turning seventeen. Collecting men was her hobby.
She laughed, low and throaty. “I didn’t call you to discuss my love life, although it’s a subject of endless fascination, I know. I actually wanted to talk something over with you.”
“Oh? Should I be bracing myself?”
“That depends.”
I was tired of the evasive word games that she’d always used to make herself appear mysterious, and I irritably changed the subject. “Mom asked about you the night before she died. Why couldn’t you make it to see her again?”
Caroline raised her hand and signalled to the waitress for more coffee. A silver ring encircled her thumb, while emeralds and diamonds sparkled on her middle finger. “My stars weren’t lined up. It was a bad karma time, and I didn’t want to bring my bad energy into mother’s sphere.”
I looked across at her, my mouth gaping. “My God, Carol—she was dying. Your bad karma wasn’t going to make matters any worse.”
“How was I to know she was going to die? She always pulled through before.”
“Because I phoned you and said, ‘Mother’s dying.’ How much plainer did I have to make it?”
“Let’s not quibble about what you may or may not have said. Anyway, you’re so much better at handling tragedy. I’d just have fallen apart.”
The helpless card—it always exasperated the hell out of me when Caroline played it, even while I marvelled at her ability to get people to do what she wanted. I’d been more like a bulldozer, demanding my place and pushing forward until I’d become a successful executive in a high tech company. I was the only woman to make vice president, and I could hold my own in any boardroom. The real pain had been in my personal life. Caroline seemed to read the direction of my thoughts.
“Any word from Rick? He’s been gone, what? Two months now?”
“We’re talking about a vacation in Mexico to see if we can patch it up.” I tried to sound offhand. I wouldn’t let her know that Rick’s departure had me sleepless and distracted. Too many times, I found myself sitting in my car outside his new residence, sobbing into the steering wheel.
Caroline’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I thought you were happy it was over? That’s what one of your e-mails said.”
I shrugged. It wasn’t in me to expose my underbelly, especially to Caroline. “So what did you want to talk about? I really have to head back to work in a few minutes. I have a big presentation tomorrow and need to finalize the handouts.”
Caroline pulled her streaked blonde hair away from her face and let it ripple over her shoulders. She leaned closer. I smelled her familiar musky scent. “I think I’m being followed, Lucy. I have this feeling... I’m scared to go out alone any more. I don’t know what I should do.”
I searched her face. “Who would be following you?” I was highly skeptical of Caroline’s words. She’d never been all that grounded in reality.
“I don’t know. It’s just so spooky. Every time I talk on the phone, I hear clicks, and I could swear someone follows my car whenever I go out. You know how you feel when someone’s watching you? Like creeped out?”
“Surely, you’re imagining things? It’s not like you’re involved in anything illegal.” I tried to laugh. It came out a sharp bark of disbelief.
Caroline pushed back against her chair. “I knew you’d think it was ridiculous. I can always count on you to be practical and...clear-sighted.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them and looked at me, she had put away whatever else she was going to say. “It would be nice to see you again soon, Lucy. Don’t be a stranger.”
I was happy not to have to dig any deeper into Caroline’s psyche. I swallowed the dregs of my cold coffee and stood to leave. “Sure thing. Next time, I suggest we go for something stronger than coffee.” I looked down at her bowed head and hesitated. She was my only sister, after all. I couldn’t deny that we shared a long history. “If this...feeling of being followed doesn’t go away, you should call the police.”
Caroline raised her sky blue eyes to mine, managing to look martyred and brave at the same time. “Thanks, Lucy. I’m sure it’s just my imagination, like you said. I won’t give it another thought.”
I inwardly cursed her ability to manipulate me. “Just call if you need anything, okay? I’m a phone call away.”
April and May were busy months for me, and I didn’t think about Caroline and her imaginary stalker at all. Rick and I spent our holiday together in Puerto Vallarta, and while we wandered its cobblestone streets and sunbathed next to the jewelled water of the Pacific, we somehow reached a marital truce. When we returned home, Rick moved back into our house, and I made every effort to keep regular working hours. He would have preferred that I give up my career to have a family, but I wasn’t wired for motherhood. My biological clock had all but expired, and therein lay the biggest rift in our marriage.
One afternoon, I received a call from Caroline as I was packing up my briefcase to go home. I’d found that I could secretly work an hour or so in the evening when Rick went out for his after-supper jog. At first, I didn’t recognize her voice.
“Caroline? Is that you?” I had to strain to hear her words.
“It’s me. I wonder if you and Rick would like to come over Saturday for a party I’m throwing to celebrate Gerry’s fifty-fifth. It won’t be anything elaborate, but I’d like if you both could come.” She sounded down—her voice shaky.
“We’ll be there. Can I bring anything?”
“No, I’ve hired a caterer. Come around six, and we’ll have a drink before dinner.”
“Is everything okay, Caroline?”
“Of course. I just haven’t been sleeping well, and the sleeping pills make me a bit groggy. See you Saturday.”
“See you then.”
It wasn’t until I was home leaning against the fridge while I waited for a packet of chicken to defrost in the microwave that it occurred to me that Caroline’s sleeping pills sh
ould have worn off long before her late afternoon call to me. Was she adding sleeping pills to her repertoire of soft drugs? My flower-child sister was never far from her stash of weed, but as far as I knew, she’d outgrown the stronger drugs that she’d experimented with in the seventies.
Saturday night arrived all too soon. I would have preferred to skip Gerry’s party and spend the evening at home with Rick. He’d been working out a lot at the gym and seemed to be avoiding alone time with me. The week before, he’d said I’d become more possessive since he’d moved back in. I knew it was true, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself I hadn’t liked living without him for the few months when he’d gone to stay with his brother. His departure had been a wake-up call—he wouldn’t wait forever while I built my career. Rick looked over at me as he turned off the car. His jaw was set, and his black eyes were unsmiling.
“Who would have thought Gerry’d be turning fifty-five? Time sure flies,” I said, reaching over to touch his cheek.
“We’re all getting older, Lucy.”
I dropped my hand. “I hope this party goes okay. Caroline’s awfully stressed lately.”
“Are you crazy? She’s one of the happiest people I know. She takes life in stride and never seems to have any regrets. We could all take a page from her book.”
“Maybe.” I was already pushing myself from the car seat. Rick’s defence of my sister had me shaken. He’d always talked like she was from another planet, yet he seemed to be aligning himself with her against me. Tingles of jealousy began to snake upwards from my belly, and I turned my face from Rick to hide the hurt he’d see in my eyes.
Caroline was beautiful that evening. A black silk blouse and leather pants showed off her figure, while her hair hung loose and shimmery. Next to her, I felt frumpy. Without much forethought, I’d put on a conservative navy pantsuit that I usually wore to work. I was trying to grow my own blonde hair longer, and it was at that unattractive in-between stage.
Gerry stood beside Caroline, holding a glass of red wine. He looked completely at ease, his stocky body dressed in a white madras shirt and black corduroy jeans. “How are you, darling?” he asked, and I leaned into him to receive a kiss on my cheek. His beard scratched my face.
“Oh, can’t complain,” I said. “You’re looking gorgeous at fifty-five.”
Gerry chuckled. “Your sister keeps me young. She wouldn’t stand being married to an old bugger.”
I looked over his shoulder and saw Rick giving Caroline a long hug. He was whispering something into her ear. I strained forward, trying not to look obvious. Gerry turned his body sideways and followed my line of vision.
“How’re you and Rick doing?”
“Pretty good.” I forced a smile. “And Caroline? Has she been depressed lately?”
“I wouldn’t say depressed exactly. More like preoccupied. She’s out a lot. Tells me she’s joined a gym or something. Maybe I should join too.” He patted his belly that hung over his belt and chuckled.
“Working out’s for sissies,” I joked, while my chest tightened. Had Caroline joined the same gym as Rick?
“I’m with you, kid. I’ve lasted this long without it. Let me get you a drink. White wine?”
“Lovely, yes,” I said, moving with him toward a bar set up in the dining room, trying to shake my unease. A smorgasbord of hot and cold food lay spread before us on the table surrounding a vase of red roses. On the hutch sat a large chocolate iced cake, crowned with blue candles. I accepted the cold wine glass while Gerry looked over my head.
“Hi, love. The food looks wonderful,” he said.
Caroline stepped past me and kissed Gerry on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”
Gerry grinned at me and said, “I’ll go mingle and leave you two to do some catching up.” He tenderly squeezed Caroline’s shoulder before leaving us. I could hear his booming voice greeting guests in the living room.
Caroline turned to face me. “So?” she asked. “How’ve you been?”
I stubbornly marked my territory. “Rick and I are working on our marriage, and we’re doing better.”
Caroline glanced at my face then looked down at the floor. “I’m asking Gerry for a divorce,” she said, finally raising her eyes to mine. “I’m waiting for a good time. The days leading up to his birthday party didn’t seem appropriate. Telling him would have been a damper.” She laughed and reached for a shrimp, dipping it in seafood sauce before popping it into her mouth, running her tongue around her red glossed lips.
“Does he have any idea?”
“I don’t think so. He’s amazingly thick sometimes.”
“Like all men,” I said. Was I amazingly thick too? I felt a pang for Gerry. I wanted to probe Caroline’s reasons for leaving, but others joined us, and I never had another chance to get her alone. I spent most of the party hovering near Rick, attentive to his food and drink needs and making certain that I was part of his conversations. If he was annoyed by my ministrations, he never let on, and to everyone at the party, we appeared the perfect couple.
During the drive home, Rick drove without speaking, his black eyes unreadable. As soon as we got inside the front door, he disappeared into the basement to play a video game. The effects of too much wine were starting to wear off, and I dragged my exhausted self off to bed. Still, it took a few hours before I could relax enough to fall asleep. I didn’t hear Rick come to bed.
It was a week after the party when I began waking in the middle of the night, the sheets wrapped around my legs in a sticky, damp shroud and my nightgown soaked through. Mornings, I was so tired that I had trouble concentrating at work, and I was often overcome by moments of flu-like heat that flushed up from my spine and covered my head like a skull cap.
“Hot flashes,” my doctor informed me. “You’re about the right age—maybe a bit young. Welcome to the beginning of the change of life.”
More like welcome to the end of Rick’s fatherhood dreams. I didn’t dare tell Rick, and for days, I moped around, thinking what it meant to be getting old.
One hot June day after work, Rick arranged to meet me at Chez Moi—a neighbourhood bistro that we’d frequented when we were dating. I got caught in a meeting and had to rush to make our rendezvous.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, trying to gauge his mood as I slid into the booth next to him. He looked cool in a white T-shirt with his sunglasses tucked into the collar. The black stubble on his cheeks made him attractively rugged. I slipped one foot out of my high heel and rubbed my foot up his calf.
“We should meet like this more often,” I said. I felt Rick shift slightly so that his leg moved out of reach.
“This isn’t working, Lucy,” he said. “I moved my stuff this afternoon while you were at work to make it as easy as possible. I haven’t been happy for some time, and...”
A throbbing began in my right temple. “It’s Caroline, isn’t it?” I couldn’t get the image of the two of them hugging at Gerry’s party out of my mind, and a red haze clouded my vision.
“Caroline?” he seemed surprised, but I knew he was a consummate actor. Hadn’t he hidden their affair from me all this time without any slip-ups?
“I can’t believe this is happening.” I shook my head, trying to shake out my panic. “How could you do this to me?”
“I’m not doing anything to you. You can’t tell me that you’ve been happy either. Let’s just end this like two mature people. We want different things out of life, and we both deserve to at least have the opportunity to make our own dreams come true. I’m sorry, Luce.” His voice softened, and I thought maybe he’d change his mind if I could just convince him of my love. I grabbed his hand.
“Please Rick. I’ll make it better,” I begged, but he stood and looked down at me, a flicker of pity playing across his face.
“I’ve taken care of the bill. Stay and eat if you like, but I’ve got to go. Don’t follow me this time, Lucy,” he said and left so quickly that I didn’t have time to react.
I
sat for a long time afterwards, drinking Scotch and running images of Rick and my life through my memory bank. We’d loved each other once; I still loved him. It couldn’t be over. I’d win him back from Caroline if it was the last thing I ever did.
A cruel epilogue to Rick’s announcement arrived without premonition, the way evil has a way of sneaking into your world unannounced. This time, it came disguised as a Manila envelope in our mail box. I tore open the flap without hesitation and stood wide-eyed as the pictures spilled onto the counter—photos of Rick and Caroline together in a bar, holding hands, talking with their heads close together, holding each other. Their betrayal lay spread before me, blown up in black and white. I felt like I was looking at their faces from far away, my heart a jackhammer in my chest, all that made my life worth living slipping away, for I had never given up the foolish hope that Rick and Caroline weren’t together. I was back on the outside, looking in on my sister and my husband mocking me with their smiles. My pain was too great to care about who’d sent me this evidence of their betrayal. I did the only thing one can possibly do when faced with the end of sanity—I cut the photos into a million pieces with the kitchen scissors before drinking a bottle of Glenfiddich and mercifully passing out.
If I’d been a workaholic before, now I was twice as obsessed. I put in fourteen-hour days, seven days a week. Those who expressed concern soon stopped bothering me with their invitations and offers of shoulders to cry on. I did no crying. Instead, I left conciliatory, then long, pleading messages for Rick on his cellphone and waited for him to come to his senses.
One day, I found a message from Gerry on my home voice mail, reporting that Caroline had left him. His normally jocular voice sounded small and sad. He said that I wouldn’t believe who she’d moved in with and to give him a call when I had a minute. I erased the message without calling him back. I didn’t want to share Gerry’s pain or to let him into mine.