Afraid of Her Shadow

by Carol Maloney Scott

“When I got back from this afternoon’s wedding, guess who was at your door leaving a present?”

  “Well, who is it?” Gina is hopping with anticipation, probably thinking it’s Luke.

  After a couple of text exchanges, I look up and try to explain. “It’s my neighbor, Violet. She said Luke was at my house dropping off a present. A clock.”

  But that isn’t a present. I gave him that clock when we were dating. He bought it for me because it’s an antique. He could never get it through his thick skull that I like things that look old, not that actually are old. So I brought it to his place so he could have the ghosts tell time for him.

  I try to explain this to Gina, but she’s missing the point. “So you don’t want the clock?”

  “I don’t care about the clock! I don’t want him showing up at my house. That is very forward. How does he know I wouldn’t be home with Steve? Thank God he doesn’t know where Steve lives.” The phone beeps again.

  “I also may have mentioned where you are tonight. SORRY!”

  “Oh for God’s sake, what the hell is wrong with her?” My face is burning and now Steve is texting me, asking if I am alright in the bathroom. “We can’t stay in here. Steve will wonder what’s happening. At the very least men know we talk about them in bathrooms.”

  My phone beeps again. I should have left it in its rice cocoon or flushed it when it fell in the toilet.

  “Hey, Beautiful. Just dropped by your place with a surprise. Met a very hot little blond – LOL…she said you are at the Meetup. Looked at the site. I may make it there tonight. Would love to meet your man and friends.”

  “Oh, Holy Fuck!” I press the phone into Gina’s hands (so I don’t fling it at the tile wall), and start jumping up and down. She wrinkles her brow and I point to the phone. “Just read it!” I swear, single life is so much easier.

  She sighs and tries to give it back to me. “This is ridiculous.” She grabs my purse, which has gotten tangled on my arm. She calmly places my phone back in the bag and zips it.

  “There is no way you can avoid this man, and you especially can’t avoid Steve meeting him. What is the big deal? He moved back to town. You didn’t make that happen. Steve isn’t a jealous jerk. He’ll understand.”

  I open my mouth and she puts up a finger, wagging it at me as she talks. “And as for this ‘needing help with his writing’ crap, you know what you need to do there. Claire volunteered to help him and it is perfectly reasonable of you to recommend a colleague who is a professional editor. Well, at least she’s learning to be one.” She stares at me and waits for my reply as I study my cuticles. “Well?” She puts her hands on her curvy hips, encased in a very clingy black skirt. “I think this has more to do with you not trusting yourself around him and not wanting Steve to see it.” Wow, she’s sobering up fast in a crisis.

  “Duh!!! Obviously I don’t trust myself!”

  “Yes, he is gorgeous. I would like to slice him like warm butter, but you need to get a grip. Besides, if he meets Steve, he will see you with another man and back off. Or at the very least it won’t make you seem like you’re hiding something when Steve does find out about him.”

  “How is ‘slicing a man’ a sexual reference?”

  Gina mock strangles me and loudly huffs. “You are impossible! Just tell Steve the truth!”

  “Ooo, juicy gossip in here. What do you need to tell Steve, Rebecca?” Chris has appeared at a fantastic time. Shoot. Me.

  I start to respond and Gina jumps in. “Chris, mind your own fucking business.” She motions for me to follow her out the door. “And no one wears blue eye shadow anymore. We aren’t actually in the eighties.”

  We leave Chris standing in the ladies’ room with her mouth open. An outspoken Italian friend is someone I could have used a long time ago. However I am still concerned that Chris is learning too much about my problems in the bathrooms of Richmond.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The rest of the evening was uneventful. Luke did not show up and Chris kept her distance. I stayed close to Steve’s side all night so she couldn’t grab his ear, and I kept a close watch on the door. I decided that Gina was right. If Luke came in, I would just introduce them. I have done nothing wrong and it would be perfectly fine for them to meet. We both exist among friends that we have had relationships with, and it is totally fine. Not weird at all. Really.

  This is a small fucking town.

  At least I was able to lure Steve home with the promise of some action. FINALLY! Instead of waiting to go upstairs and performing the whole lingerie show, I just dragged him into the family room and we did it on the couch. I was not risking Elsa whining in the bedroom, or Steve falling asleep while I was making myself pretty. So he got a sweaty dancing machine and I think he was okay with that.

  I turned down the lights so I didn’t feel like we were being watched (I am not referring to the dog). However, I haven’t found a room here where we can leave the lights on. Maybe in the workshop with the tools, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there is a picture collage next to the wrenches and the table saw. Plus I don’t want splinters in my ass.

  Elsa was a little better, but Steve sees that we have a problem to overcome with her. Hopefully she’ll get used to her new surroundings and relax a bit. We did end up letting her sleep at the foot of the bed, which I wasn’t keen on, but was too wiped out from the previous night’s shenanigans to protest.

  I do need to stop at my house later to check on the cats. Violet is feeding them but I miss those furry monsters. And my house, to be truthful. But I will be back home Monday night, since Steve has a meeting. Gina asked me to take her Pilates class on Tuesday at the new women’s gym that opened up on my side of town. It’s her first night teaching at this place and I want to be supportive, so I’ll skip bowling and I won’t see Steve until Wednesday.

  So it’s Sunday and Steve is once again on a…get ready…yep, a bike ride. But I am not sitting in his house again today. Elsa will have to stay home alone for a while. I hope she doesn’t ruin the furniture (hee, hee).

  I am meeting Claire and Gina for pedicures and a little shopping. By late morning we are all lined up in our pedicure chairs, getting our feet soaked, rubbed and massaged.

  “This is the life. I can’t wait to get in my bikini and visit a nice beach with Brandon. We’ve had so much stress lately.” She sighs and closes her eyes, trying to figure out how to work the massage chair. “Oww, this thing hurts.”

  “That’s because you’re too bony. You need to eat more. There is no reason to be stressed. Everything will be fine. You’ve been married before.” Gina is so diplomatic and sweet. NOT.

  “Yes, I was married before and it was a nightmare, so I’m a little cautious. Even though I know Brandon is perfect for me, I still get nervous. Plus the planning is so much work. And I have school, too. All he does is write and play the guitar. Now he’s writing songs, but yet he wants to adopt a baby as soon as we get married. Presumably so the child won’t have an especially aged mother.”

  “All I’m saying is that you don’t want the man to have a bag of bones on his wedding night.” Gina pats Claire’s hand, as if her speeches are supportive and encouraging. “Everything will fall into place.”

  “I don’t want to hear anyone talk about being too stressed or too thin. I am way more stressed and to top it off, I am fat. How the hell am I going to wear a bikini this season? It may have to be my first year ever with a tankini.” I am disgusted at the thought.

  “So what? I wear a tankini all the time. But if you want to wear a bikini, just do it. Who cares? All these women at my gym torture themselves for this ‘bikini body.’ I say the best way to get a bikini body is to put a bikini on your body.” Gina winces as the nail technician apologizes for hurting her pinky toe.

  “The other way to get one is whatever Claire is doing. Such as not eating.” I peer at Claire over my reading glasses, which I must wear if I want to see the pages of my favorite celebrity magazine. Speaking of movie stars an
d weight loss, maybe I should try liposuction…

  Claire sits up straight and announces, “I do too eat! I eat like a lumberjack. It’s just the stress spiking my metabolism.”

  “Claire, if lumberjacks ate like you they wouldn’t have the strength to chop down Popsicle sticks. Paper would cease to exist.” Gina dodges the cotton swabs Claire is throwing at her. They earn an admonishing glare from the salon manager, who is no nonsense.

  “Would you two stop it? I guess I will try on my bikinis. I could get tan quicker if I go to the tanning salon. I’ve never done that, but it could be a good jump start, and since I never have time to be at my pool it may be my only option. Tan fat looks much better than white fat.” I pinch my thighs to see how much visible white gleaming cellulite I can grab.

  “Doesn’t Steve’s neighborhood have a pool?” Claire asks as she pulls out a Snickers bar and starts eating it voraciously, as if to prove us wrong about her starvation plan.

  “Are you kidding? It’s old and in the woods. He lives on a main road. It isn’t even really a neighborhood.” I take off my glasses and lay them in my lap. “Besides I don’t think Steve likes the water. Last summer he never came to my pool and I felt like he was making excuses when I said I wanted to go to the beach.”

  “How could a guy from New Jersey not like the beach? My whole life was spent at the shore.” Gina’s eyes are popping.

  “Steve is from the northwestern corner of New Jersey, remember?”

  “That’s really Pennsylvania. That’s your problem.” Gina nods her approval of the French manicure lines the nail tech has completed. “But you don’t need him to go to the beach. Come with me. We could go one day when all the guys are doing something else. Or better yet, we could take a day off from work and go when it’s less crowded.”

  “Count me out. I’m too busy with the wedding and…well, you know. But you should go with Gina. Try to relax a little.” Claire continues chomping on her candy bar.

  “I will. That’ll be fun. I think Steve prefers the woods. He wants me to go camping.” Both Gina and Claire stare in wide-eyed horror. “Don’t even get me started. Like peeing in the underbrush and showering with bugs is so much more fun than watching the waves roll in and sleeping in a nice hotel with indoor plumbing.”

  “The woods scare me. I always think about creepy movies.” Gina is a true city girl.

  “My life is turning into a creepy movie,” I mutter under my breath. My brother made me watch plenty of inappropriate scary films growing up. Ryan especially loved the paranormal flicks. Horror movies I can take. I don’t believe in vampires or werewolves, but ghosts seem like a very plausible idea. Especially people who died young or before…actually, it wasn’t all Ryan’s fault but I don’t want to think about all of that.

  “Hello, Rebecca. I am asking you a question.” Claire is waving her hands at me.

  “Sorry, I was daydreaming.”

  “Is the house really that bad? I mean, now that you’ve spent some time there?” Claire wants details and I don’t feel like getting into it right now.

  Gina seems to sense this. “I know what would be fun for you, Rebecca? Why don’t you get a manicure? I know you don’t grow your fingernails long, but you could get acrylic nails.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never done that before. Don’t they get in the way?”

  Both Claire and Gina show me their talons. Claire’s are natural, but I guess they’re both able to work and do whatever else they need to do.

  “I had these nails when my son was little. If I can diaper a baby with them, you can bang on a keyboard or text just fine.”

  I decide to go with a French manicure on my fake fingernails while Claire and Gina skip out to the mall. They both got their manicures recently and they aren’t due. They’ll be back in a little while and meet me for lunch. Claire will come back with bags of impractical shoes and Gina with many carefully hunted bargains. And probably underwear for her son. Or Tony. I need to stop having these thoughts.

  As I submit to the nail technician’s procedure, I hear my phone beeping. I ask if I can check it before I get too far along in the process, which will render my hands useless for a period of time.

  Luke. I am going to have to call him back later. It really wouldn’t hurt to see him. Just for the screenplay. I could help him. Maybe just one time. I could tell Steve the truth. I’m not doing anything wrong. Gina said it. Right?

  The nail technician tightens her grip on my hand and forces me to relax. It is impossible to get a manicure and fake nails with your fists clenched. Whew…I will practice deep breathing exercises as she works her magic.

  In no time at all my nails look beautiful! I just hope I can function. I pay and step out onto the curb. Gina and Claire aren’t due back yet, so I sit on a bench outside the salon. Just a quick call to Luke and I’ll feel better. I grab my phone. Steve will be home soon, but he knows I’m out with the girls.

  It’s not easy to dial the phone with these stupid nails. If I still had my old flip phone I could press the buttons with the nail tips, but with a Smartphone’s touchscreen this is a handicap. I decide to forego the nightmare of touching the phone and use a voice command. “Call Luke.”

  “Calling Luke,” my dutiful phone replies.

  “Hey, Beautiful. You’re hard to get a hold of.” His voice is warm and dark.

  “Sorry. I’ve been busy.” My eyes shift around, seeking my friends. Or making sure they’re not around.

  “Yeah, I was going to try to make it out dancing last night, but I got tied up.” He says the word “dancing” with a mocking tone. Luke was into salsa dancing, but I was not a good partner for him, either.

  “I don’t know that it would have been your crowd, but there were a lot of older women there.” I say this in a teasing manner, but I am more serious than not.

  He cracks up laughing. “Well, I will surely go next time. Rebecca, you are so silly. I don’t only like older women. You just happened to be older. And maybe a few others, but I love all women.”

  I am tingling from head to toe on the bench outside City Nails, watching families and shoppers and…I shouldn’t have called him.

  “That little blond…your neighbor…she is very attractive. She said she’s Dutch?”

  “Yes, so you talked to Violet?” I pause and stammer, “She told me you had stopped by.”

  “Yes, with the clock I gave you a long time ago. Remember that beautiful clock? I have kept it by my bedside, but I wanted you to have it back. So you can enjoy it.”

  “Thank you.” Little does he know I am bringing that to the nearest ghost reseller, I mean antiques shop.

  “I also wanted to see what you thought of the writing. I know it’s crude and needs tons of organization and editing, but I value your opinion.”

  “It was…interesting. I was thinking that since I am not a professional editor—”

  “That is not why I want your opinion. I know I need to engage a pro before I can even think of sending it to a studio. I want your take from an intimate perspective. When can we meet?”

  My hands are sweating so profusely, I may have to put my wet phone back in the rice. “Maybe you should come to my office.” Shit. Why did I say that?

  “Whatever you’re comfortable with. Why don’t you check your schedule tomorrow and let me know.”

  “Okay…no problem.” I sigh and agree to help him. I just keep digging a deeper hole.

  “And Rebecca?”

  My breath catches. “Yes?”

  “I didn’t fall for you just because you were an older woman. You were irresistible. Steve is a lucky man.”

  We end the call with me stammering a distracted goodbye. How in the hell does he know my boyfriend’s name?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Fake nails were not a good idea. They look nice, but my hands are rendered useless. I have the finger dexterity of a dead mule without nails, and now I can’t type at all. Forget using my phone. Touch screens do not register the tap of
a fingernail. How are all these women typing away on their phones all day? Claire and Gina are glued to their screens with their lethal claws.

  Speaking of lethal. The worst part is trying to touch people! I stabbed Steve in bed several times last night. He said it’s a good thing I don’t have to diaper any babies, or child protective services would be called. I didn’t mention Gina’s reported skill in this area.

  I also decided to keep any touching above the waist, to keep everything in working order. I think he kept his eyes closed the whole time to ward off a blinding attack.

  I would start wearing gloves, but it’s eighty-five degrees outside and they would look silly with a bathing suit.

  Bathing suits…I need to get some new ones and I’m scared. I know I have gained more than five pounds since last summer. Maybe ten. It is a remote possibility that I could be in denial about the actual number.

  I LOVE to swim. My mother said I should have been a fish or that little mermaid girl in the Disney movie. My niece dressed up as that character for Halloween. Ariana? Arabella? Something like that. I don’t watch kids’ movies. I liked Sleeping Beauty, but as I grew up I was disheartened to learn that men are sometimes bigger pricks than the one at the end of the spinning wheel. But not Steve.

  I tap on my keyboard, and luckily just the letter “V” brings up the Victoria’s Secret website. Their suits are pricey, but dazzling with lots of bright color, glitter and sexy cutouts and…who am I kidding? I pinch the roll of blubber that is spilling over the top of my skirt. I wish I could check the size. I bet it’s an old one I left out of the last Goodwill pile.

  “Hey, whatcha doin’?” Claire is standing in my doorway eating a chocolate iced donut.

  I glare at her breakfast choice and grimace. “Looking at swimsuits. How nice to see a blond pencil chowing down on a delicious, dreamy—”

  “Oh my God. Yesterday you accused me of starving myself and now I’m trying to bulk up and…okay, what’s going on?” Claire comes in and stands in front of my desk with her little hip jutting out while her hands cradle her sweet, yummy…