by Britney King
“And you know what else? I bet when that woman came out empty-handed to find that she couldn’t easily get away after being stood up…I bet she felt at least a hint of shame about what she was doing. To have to explain your tires being slashed in a parking lot—well, it makes you think, doesn’t it?
I look away. I roll my eyes. If this is what having an affair with a woman is like, count me out. This is more bullshit than I can take in a day.
“Well, I bet it made her husband think. Why would a person do such a thing? But you see, Sadie, she knows why— and I bet you it will make her think twice the next time she tries to sleep with someone else’s man.”
I don't say anything. Although, when she asks me to look at her, I do. I want to tell her people aren’t property. You can’t own a person. But I know this isn’t true.
Ann takes my chin in her hand. Her eyes search my face for understanding. “The next time you decide to eat shit—or let yourself go—you’ll think about this moment, Sadie.”
She isn’t wrong.
“And with any luck— maybe— just maybe— you’ll make a different choice. The truth is,” she says, earnestly, “I can’t see myself with you…intimately…not with you like this. Not unless we make some changes.”
Tears fill my eyes. But not for the reason she thinks. She isn’t telling me she hasn’t made another move toward me because of Paul or because she’s worried about messing up our friendship. She’s saying it’s because of the way I look. I’m momentarily relieved. Fat is far easier to get rid of than a husband.
At the same time, she’s made another thing clear. I’ve been a fool. Ann is a liar. She wasn’t avoiding me because she was busy. Or preoccupied with her book. Or because of Paul. She was avoiding me to prevent the inevitable letdown on my part. She was avoiding me because she only finds certain aspects of me attractive. The parts that benefit her.
“What’s this?” she asks. There’s an edge in her voice that gets my attention. In her hand she’s holding the paperwork I’m supposed to get signed at DUI education class. Before I can stop her, she’s reading it aloud. “I asked you a question,” she says when she’s finished reading. “What is this?”
“A mistake.”
“Driving under the influence?” She shakes her head slowly. Then she closes her eyes for what feels like a very long time. “Really, Sadie? Please tell me I’m imagining this. Tell me this is not happening.”
“It’s—”
She paces the length of my not-good-enough kitchen with my not-good-enough food while analyzing my not-good-enough life. “I thought more of you than that…”
“I know—”
“And worse—you kept it from me. I’ve been a complete fool.
That makes two of us.
“I thought we were friends—I got you a job at my children’s school, for God’s sake. I hired you to help people in my business! I fell for you, Sadie.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry.” Her eyeballs nearly pop out of her very pretty head. And I realize this was the wrong thing to say. “Sorry? Really. That’s all you’ve got?”
I shrug and try again. I realize how inexperienced I am. If only someone had warned me. Fighting with a woman is so much more treacherous than fighting with a man. One has to employ every weapon in their arsenal. You can’t just skate by on sex appeal alone. “I should have told you.”
“Damn right you should have. Here I am trying to help you, and you haven’t even been honest with me. What do you think people are going to say when they find out?”
What I’m about to tell her is going to make everything so much worse, and still, I can’t stop myself. “I’m pretty sure they know.”
This does it. Red flushes her cheeks. Ann waves the form violently. “How could you? You let me believe you were something—something that clearly you are not.”
“It’s really not what you think.”
She braces herself against my kitchen counter and hangs her head, and maybe this is what winning looks like. “I let myself care about you…I vouched for you!”
“It was just a misunderstanding,” I promise. “I’m not an addict.”
She motions toward the trashcan, which has been filled to the brim with the things I’m not supposed to want to eat. She draws her claws and bares her teeth. “Could have fooled me.”
I watch her carefully as she takes a deep breath in and holds it. It’s amazing how one breath can last an eon. Finally, she says, “And I’m disappointed to say you did.”
The realization only skims the surface. The rest will come later. I’ve ruined things with her. Same as I did with Ethan. Which is a real problem, because it takes two players to finish a game. Solitaire this is not.
Before I can come up with a proper response, she storms out. When she leaves, she takes the last of my dignity with her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
SADIE
The fight with Ann helps me lose five pounds in three days. The fact that she threw out all of the food in my house didn’t hurt.
Nevertheless, time has a way of making you see things clearly. Should I have told her about my past, about the DUI charge, about…other things? Maybe. Do I regret my decisions? Not in the least. We are more alike than we are different, the two of us.
What has transpired would not have happened if she knew the real me. Now, she thinks she does. How can a person regret a thing like that? Clarity is a fine gift.
Maybe it was inevitable, maybe it would have happened anyway. But the day I finally decide I’ve had enough—enough moping around—the day I decide to get up off of the couch and take the steps that Ann says in her book will change my life— is the day Ethan calls.
He wants to know if he can drop by later in the week to grab a few more of his things. He doesn’t mention the renovations or bring up putting the house on the market or say which things it is he wants. I know his short-term rental is fairly compact, but it doesn’t matter. I’m already convinced his visit is contrived. My suspicion is further confirmed when he tells me how good it is to hear my voice.
It’s fine if he drops by, I say. It is his house, after all.
It isn’t until after we hang up that I realize his visit will mean missing Ann’s dinner party, and that I’ll have to reach out and let her know. Truthfully, I’m not sure she wants to see me anyway. We haven’t spoken since she walked out, and I didn’t want to be the first person to break the silence. So, Ethan’s call is timely. I’m not ready to face her, and now I have the perfect excuse. One she’ll like. I can tell his name makes her crazy.
If only she knew what a big fan he is.
When I text her, she rings me back immediately. “Call him back,” she tells me before I’ve even had a chance to say hello. “Do not change your plans for him.”
The way she says it, the way she speaks, it is as though nothing has happened between us. Partly, this is a welcome relief, like salve to a burn. Grace incarnate. Actually, hearing her voice feels like the first time I can truly breathe in days. I need her. And here she is, offended on my behalf and offering advice. This means that she still cares, and if she still cares, there is hope. “If I do that—he’ll come by when I’m not there.”
“So?”
“So, I want to see him.”
Her voice lowers. “This is what you do. Are you listening?”
“I’m listening.”
“Turn off the automatic garage opener. Lock the dead bolt and exit through the garage.”
“Yeah, but then how will I get in?”
“Simple. Leave a window open. He won’t know that, and when he asks, just mention you had to step out. Say you’re sorry you forgot about the lock—but now that you’re living alone, you’re taking a little extra precaution.”
I can’t help but smile. Ann always thinks of everything. Life is so simple for her. The rest of us just miss the obvious. Little does she know I have claws too and I’m sharpening them by the minute. “But I want to see him.”
“I’m sure you do. But you, Sadie, you are not the kind of woman who breaks plans for a man.”
I consider what she is saying. For a second, I think about contradicting her. I want to tell her I am exactly the kind of woman who breaks plans for a man. I am the kind of woman who revolves her whole life around said man. But I don’t say any of this. I still want to win. “You’re right.”
“Repeat after me,” she says. “I am not the kind of woman who breaks plans for a man.”
“I am not the kind of woman who breaks plans for a man.”
“Perfect,” she tells me, and I swear I hear her clap her hands in the background.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SADIE
There are fifteen of us in attendance. Paul is out of town again; it was a last minute thing. Transplants almost always are, Ann says.
She seems disappointed, although, I can tell she’s trying not to let it show. I feel the same way. I feel myself being drawn to her bay window where I can get a glimpse down the street at my house and with any luck, at Ethan’s car.
Ann’s three-course dinner, however, does not disappoint. Everyone agrees—even me, who hardly ate any of it. I could feel Ann’s eyes on me, warning me. I was not to enjoy the butternut squash ravioli she served as an appetizer with the rosemary browned butter, not even the salad with the baby kale, Asian pear grapes, candied walnuts and gorgonzola honey vinaigrette. I pick at the lamb chops, barely. But the honey yogurt panna cotta with the blood orange sauce is totally off limits.
I am aware I am being punished. It comes in many forms. Love is wise to the wounds upon which to press. Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, Ann whispers to me.
I beg to differ. But then, it’s been a long time since I could pass for what’s considered skinny.
Eventually I can’t take it anymore, so I excuse myself to use the powder room. I check my phone for any missed messages. Naturally, there aren’t any. So, I have to give myself a bit of a pep talk before going back out to the party. I pop an extra Ativan to see me through.
As I round the corner, toward the kitchen, I run into Amy. Literally. The hall is dark, and I’m not expecting her to be there. She knocks the wind out of me, forcing an audible gasp. She reaches out and grabs my forearm to steady me. “Sorry,” she whispers. “Are you okay? I thought you saw me.”
“I’m fine,” I say rubbing the spot where our heads bumped. I scoot to the side to allow her room to pass, but she doesn’t move. “Actually,” she tells me, her voice strained, “I was looking for you.”
“Well, you found me.”
She leans closer and lowers her voice. “I was just wondering…” she starts to say before she trips over her words. “Have you noticed…”
She tests my patience. My head throbs. I help her out. “Have I noticed what?”
“Well,” she says hesitantly. “I was wondering if you’ve noticed anything odd about Ann?”
“Ann?”
“Yeah…I can’t put my finger on it, but something seems off.”
“I hadn’t noticed. No.”
She leans into the wall. “I’m sure I’m just being silly…it’s just, I know you two are close, and well, I was just looking for—”
“What were you looking for?” Ann asks, appearing like a magician. It’s her specialty.
“The ladies’ room,’” Amy says nervously, the way you do when you’re caught red-handed talking about someone behind their back.
“It’s there,” Ann points. No one says another word. Not even me, who realizes there’s truth in Amy’s question. I have noticed something about Ann. She hasn’t invited me here because all is forgiven. She invited me here to keep an eye on me. Same as Darcy.
LATER, after the table has been cleared, and the women have cordoned themselves off in the kitchen, Ann clinks a knife against a glass to gather everyone’s attention. “I’m so glad we could all get together,” she says. “Especially in light of what happened.” Slowly, she dries her hands on a dishtowel. God, I love her. Her hands especially. “It’s important to be there for one another.”
Most of us nod our agreement.
Amy, Darlene, Kathryn, Lisa, Heloise, and Denise do, anyway.
Personally, I’m not so sure. I just want her alone.
Either way, the result is the same. She keeps talking. She keeps stalling what is inevitable. “We should do this more often,” she suggests. “Make it a regular thing.”
“That’s a great idea,” Lisa says.
Ann smiles. “I think we should make it official.”
“Like a club?” Denise asks.
Once again, Ann is all smiles. “Like an alliance.”
“This isn’t one of those multilevel marketing deals is it?” Kathryn jokes. “Where you’re going to try and recruit us…”
“No,” Ann asserts. She has that devil-may-care look when she says it. But I can tell she means business. “This is something to make our lives more fulfilling.”
“Those lamb chops were certainly fulfilling.” Kathryn laughs.
Ann ignores the lame attempt at humor. “I’ve seen the way you ladies look forward to my parties. And there will definitely be more where that is concerned—but—I don’t know…I want more. And—correct me if I’m wrong,” she says, glancing around the group, from woman to woman. But never at me. “I think we all do.”
A couple of them shrug. Some glance at the person standing next to them. No one knows what to say, so just like in the rest of their lives, they look to someone else from whom to take a cue.
Ann goes on. She may be addressing us all, but she’s really only speaking to me. “No one looks up from their phones these days. Everyone’s reality is based on somewhere they aren’t. We have friends, sure. But how many of them do we actually ever spend time with?”
“Not many,” Heloise admits.
“Who has the time?” Amy wants to know.
Ann presses her lips to one another and hesitates momentarily before continuing. I love her speech. It all seems so well thought out, so well rehearsed. “Well, I’ll tell you who doesn’t have the time, and that’s Darcy.”
Suddenly, everyone is staring at Ann’s Brazilian Spruce flooring. Everyone except her. And, me, of course. We’ve all heard the story of its import, and how lucky they were to find that much in the exact color of cherry they desired.
“Maybe Darcy was depressed—I don’t know.”
There’s a rumbling of agreement.
“The truth is—none of us know what happened that night—or at any time previously. And that’s what bothers me most. We were supposed to be her friends.”
“She seemed distracted at the party,” Amy says. “I could tell something was bothering her. And she mentioned once that someone—that another mom at the school—had been harassing her.”
“Harassing her how?” Kathryn asks.
“She wouldn’t say,” Amy tells us. “But I told the police.”
“What did they say?” I can’t help but ask. I’m careful not to look in Ann’s direction, although I’m dying to see her expression.
Amy shrugs. “They didn’t seem to make too much of it.”
“We should have been there for her,” Darlene says like a confession.
“Let this be a lesson,” Ann says. “We can do better. We have to do better.”
“I thought she was happy. She seemed happy,” Heloise offers.
No one looks up from the floor this time. Not even me.
“How about you Darlene?” Ann asks. “Would you say you’re happy?”
I watch as Darlene shifts her weight from foot to foot. I know her truth better than anyone. She lives directly next door. My days are long and boring, and I had time to observe her in action. Or rather, they used to be, but people don’t change that quickly. “Happy? Define happy.”
“I mean, are you fulfilled in your life? Does it have meaning?”
Darlene’s discomfort at being put on the spot is palpable. “I don’t kno
w…I guess.”
“Who is happy?” Lisa demands coming to her aid.
“I am,” Ann says. “And I want that for you too.”
“What exactly is it that you are suggesting?” Kathryn chimes in, and God, I wish she’d shut it. She doesn’t realize how abrasive her tone is. Ann hates that. I worry for her.
“There are women, women in this kitchen, women in this very room, who are going through things,” Ann says to Kathryn and everyone. “Some who have done things, things they aren’t proud of.”
“What kind of things?” Amy wants to know.
Ann sighs long and heavy and slow. She leaves room for them to draw their own conclusions before offering an answer. “Terrible things.”
The women inhale as a collective. Ann’s breathing remains steady. The stage is set. All eyes are on her. “But we can help them. Because if we’ve learned anything from losing Darcy, we’ve learned that helping others helps us all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SADIE
A few weeks after the dinner party, Ann shows up on my doorstep late one night out of the blue. “I’m sorry,” she says. I haven’t even gotten the door all the way open before she’s brushing past me. She’s wide-eyed and scary and fascinating all at once. “It’s just that I have to go out of town, and this can’t wait.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No, Sadie. Everything is not okay.”
“What is it?”
“Something is going on with Amelia.”
My stomach lurches forward into the future without me. “What?”
“I don’t know,” she says, answering none of my questions. “But it’s bad. I have a feeling it’s really, really bad. I caught her sneaking out of the house. Not only that—she’s been lying to me—I think she’s seeing someone. Someone she knows I won’t like.”
“How do you know?”
Her eyes narrow. “Call it mother’s intuition.”
“I—”
“Anyway,” she says, cutting me off. “I need you to keep an eye on her while I’m away.”
“Of course.”
“I have to know I can trust you. This is the most important thing I’ve ever asked anyone.”