by Elle Casey
Her phone rang and she looked at the caller ID. Jack again. It was to the point that it was almost harassment. He was calling her several times a day and always angry for no reason.
“Hello, Jack.”
“What are you doing?”
She pulled the phone away from her head and looked down at it, annoyed. She put it back to her ear and replied, “None of your business, Jack. Why are you calling? Do you need something? Have you finally decided to pay my support?”
“Aimee, I’m tired of playing games with you. I want to know what you’ve been up to, and I want to know where my golf clubs are. I’m going golfing tomorrow, and I need them.”
This was Jack’s newest thing. For some reason, he’d decided that he had a right to know what she was doing at every moment of the day, just like he’d done when they were married.
“Jack, we’re not married anymore. Well, technically we are, but we’re separated and almost technically divorced. You have a new girlfriend or fiancée, or whatever she is, to harass and boss around. Just stay out of my business. And forget the clubs. They’re gone.”
She had to hold the phone away from her ear because of the screaming coming from Jack’s end. She looked for the red button and pressed it, cutting off his call.
“I’ve had a lifetime of that crap, Jack, and I don’t have to put up with it anymore,” she said out loud, looking at her boxes. She smiled at her newfound confidence and stuck the phone in her back pocket, heading back to the kitchen. She had a batch of cookies in the oven, a new recipe she was trying. She’d been working on it off and on for days, trying to get just the right combination of flavorings and ingredients. She was pretty sure this one was going to be perfect.
The front doorbell rang. Aimee grabbed the cookies out of the oven and set the sheet on the cooling racks before rushing down the hall and looking through the peephole. She was always worried it was going to be Jack, there to cause trouble again. She felt reasonably safe during working hours, though. He rarely left his office between nine in the morning and six at night, especially with his soon-to-be wife Tiffany there. The girl wasn’t that dumb. She knew he was a cheater, so she kept a close eye on him.
Betty was standing out on the front porch.
“Betty! Come in!” Aimee threw the door open wide.
“Hello, sweetie, how are you?”
Aimee smiled and leaned in, giving Betty a kiss on the cheek. Betty smelled of lotion and powder, just like an older lady should, in Aimee’s opinion. “I have your cakes all ready. I even found a cute little platter for them at the dollar store. Come see.”
Betty followed her into the kitchen where Aimee led her over to the granite-covered island. Among the baking pans, potholders, and other evidence of recent baking, was a pink platter with a two-inch high rim, filled with gorgeous cakes and tarts, just as Betty had ordered for her mahjongg club.
Betty clasped her hands together in glee, her shiny bone-colored purse swinging on her forearm. “Oh, those are just lovely. Absolutely perfect. Madge is going to be furious.” She looked at Aimee with bright eyes and a devious grin.
Aimee smiled back. “I’m glad you’re glad. But are you sure you want to get Madge so upset?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely.”
“Okay, then. Let me get them wrapped up for you, and then I’ll help you get them out to your car.”
Aimee went about wrapping up the cakes and finished just as a voice came from the doorway.
“Who’s she? The cleaning lady? Since when can you afford one of those?”
Aimee turned with a gasp, her joy disappearing like a puff of smoke. “Jack! What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Cleaning lady? Did he say cleaning lady?” asked Betty, a frown spreading across her face.
Aimee put her hand on Betty’s arm. “Ignore him. He’s not a very nice person.”
“I asked a question, and I expect an answer,” he insisted. “Who is this person and why is she in my house?”
Aimee sighed, stepping in-between Jack and Betty. “This is a friend of mine, Jack. And she was just leaving.” Aimee turned to Betty and said in a lowered voice. “Let me carry this out for you. Come on.”
Before Aimee grabbed the platter, she quickly picked up her spatula and used it to put a few of the still warm cookies in with the pastries, carefully readjusting the plastic wrap once they were settled in nicely. She kept her eyes down and moved with the platter in her hand to leave the kitchen, praying Jack wouldn’t cause any more trouble. She could feel her face burning in humiliation as it was. She was so embarrassed that Betty had seen him and heard how nasty he could be. And this was Jack being nice, actually. Please, please don’t let him get crazy in front of Betty.
Aimee left the kitchen, Jack stepping to the side to let her pass. She had expected Betty to follow, but Betty had other ideas.
“Young man ... didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”
“Excuse me?” was Jack’s surprised response.
“You heard me. Manners. I’m pretty sure you’re not as stupid as you look, so let me give you a little piece of advice.”
“I don’t need any advice from the cleaning lady, I can assure you,” he said arrogantly.
“Ha! I wouldn’t clean up after your messes if I were on welfare and eating cat food right out of the can. Your kind of dirt doesn’t clean, if you catch my drift.” She looked over at Aimee and gave her a nod. Then she turned back to Jack. “Now shut up and listen, because I’ll bet you don’t do that as often as you should. Remember the adage – as you sow, so shall you reap. One day you’re going to look back on all of this, if you’re a very lucky man, and regret the things you’ve said and done. Change your ways, before it’s too late.”
“Go to hell,” said Jack in a low, menacing tone.
Betty sucked her teeth, staring Jack down, even though she was nearly a foot shorter than him, and then said in a sunny voice as she turned and left the kitchen, “Have a nice day, asshole!”
Aimee stood in the hallway, frozen in place and unable to move.
“Come on, sweet pea,” said Betty, “let’s get that platter out to the car. I have some friends waiting for me who are getting closer to death’s doorstep every minute. Can’t waste any time. I want to see the looks on their faces when they see these treats you made.”
Aimee felt Betty gently push her shoulder to get her moving, which woke Aimee up from the living nightmare she had just watched unfold in front of her. She walked, Betty still behind her keeping up her prattle all the way back to the car.
Aimee had to force herself not to look back at the house. She half expected Jack to start throwing her boxes out the front door. No, he’ll probably want to go through them first before throwing them out, to see if there’s anything in there he or his girlfriend might want.
Betty opened the back door so Aimee could place the cakes on the seat. When Aimee finished settling them in and stood up, Betty put her hand on Aimee’s arm.
Aimee looked down at the little old lady who was looking up at her with a very serious expression.
“Aimee, honey, do you have a gun?” Betty asked.
Aimee looked at her confused. “A gun? No. Why?”
“Because if I were you, I’d get one. Soon. That man is a keg of dynamite ready to blow. And I have a feeling he’s wanting to blow on you.” She emphasized her point by poking her finger into Aimee’s shoulder.
Aimee nearly crumbled. She felt so terrible that Betty had seen all that. “Jack’s a jerk, I know. And I’m super sorry he was so rude to you. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. He was always bossy, but the last couple weeks ... I don’t know ... ”
“I can tell you what it is,” said Betty, getting into her car and rolling down the window. It was one of the old hand-crank kind. “He’s jealous of you.”
“Of me?” laughed Aimee. “That’s a good one.”
“You’re happy. He’s not. That’s obvious. Mis
erable people despise happy ones. It reminds them how worthless their lives are.”
Aimee thought about that for a second. “Well, I’m not miserable, but I don’t know that I’d call myself happy, happy.”
“You seem happy to me. Always smiling, always positive-minded. That man in there doesn’t like it. That’s as plain as the nose on his snobby face.”
“I have been happier since I started going to the book club meetings. Even though there’ve only been two, it’s made a difference in my life. Doesn’t that sound crazy? My life must be pretty pitiful.” She looked down at the ground, embarrassed about how weak she felt.
“No, it’s not crazy at all. Women need connections with other women. That’s how we’re wired. That’s why I play mahjohngg, even though I have to suffer through Madge’s jello molds the whole time. I’d bet my false teeth that man in there never liked you to have women friends. Am I right?”
Aimee searched her memory, digging up past moments of friendship. “I never really thought about it much before, but all the friends I had were wives of Jack’s friends.”
“And where are these so-called friends now?” asked Betty, starting her car.
Aimee answered in a soft voice. “They’ve all pretty much disappeared. It’s as if we were never friends.”
“They weren’t. Glad you’ve figured that out. And I’ll tell ya, I don’t know that man in there from Adam, but I know for a fact, he’s the reason you never had friends. There’s nothing wrong with you, girly. You’re as sweet as a gumdrop and as gentle as a lamb. There’s a million women out there who’d love to call you friend, like me and Elizabeth and Kiki, if I’m not mistaken. Don’t let that man take your fire from you. You can do much better.”
Aimee smiled tremulously, finding herself very close to tears over Betty’s kindness.
“Now I have to get going, or I’m going to be late. One more thing – I saw those boxes. Are you moving out?”
“Someday. I don’t have a place yet.”
“Well, take my advice. It’s free. Go find yourself something today. You’re not safe here, and I hate to see good girls like you get hurt. I’ll see you at the next meeting, and I’ll be expecting you to tell me that you have a new place to live then.”
Aimee smiled through the haze of the tears floating in her eyes. “Okay, Betty. I’ll see what I can do. I appreciate your advice.”
“Oh, shoot! I almost forgot to give you the money for the cakes!” Betty reached over to the passenger seat and unsnapped her shiny, vinyl purse, pulling out a twenty and a five. “Here you go. Your first dollar made in your baking business!” She handed over the money and waved as she backed out of the driveway, smiling big and only going into the grass a little.
Aimee waved back, staying outside until the car was gone from sight. She wasn’t looking forward to going back into the house. She walked up to the front porch and sat down on the swing. Betty’s advice was weighing on her.
“Aimee, where are you?” came Jack’s voice from inside.
“I’m on the porch.”
Jack came out and stepped over to where she was sitting. “I need to talk to you.”
Aimee shrugged, looking out at the street. “So, talk.”
“Inside.”
“No. I’m not going back inside with you, Jack. If you need to talk, do it here.” Where it’s safe and I know you won’t get violent in front of the neighbors.
“I’d prefer to talk inside.”
Aimee looked up at him, angrily. “I’m sure you would. But I wouldn’t. So either talk here, or leave.” She could tell by his reaction that he was surprised and not happy.
“What’s gotten into you lately, Aimee? You’ve become suddenly very unreasonable. All I want to know is what happened to my clubs. And I need to talk to you about our life insurance.”
“What’s gotten into me is I’m sick of your attitude and the way you treat me. You sent me to the emergency room, Jack, in case you forgot. I had to have stitches put into my head. So forgive me if I’m not in the mood to just follow your orders, as usual.”
“That was your fault, not mine.”
“Whatever,” said Aimee, disgusted with him. She was starting to wonder what she’d ever seen in him.
“I’m serious about my golf clubs.”
Aimee said nothing in response. She decided she was better off playing dumb in that department.
“And about the insurance, I want to put Tiffany on as the beneficiary. With the baby coming, she needs it more than you do.”
Aimee was angry that he was taking this from her too, since he was perfectly capable of getting a new policy for his new girlfriend. And Aimee knew she would need the money if he died and stopped paying support, at least until she got on her feet. She tried not to let his cut about the baby slice her open, but it did. And he knew it too; she could tell by the look on his face.
“Why don’t you just change it yourself?” He’d managed to take whatever he wanted without consulting her before. She couldn’t see why this should be any different.
“Well, I just need you to sign a paper for it. Just a technicality.”
“Do you have the paper?”
“No, but I’ll bring it over to you.”
“Mail it. I don’t want you to come here anymore.”
Jack sighed loudly in irritation. “This is my house, not yours. I’ll come here whenever I want to.”
She could tell he was starting to get angry again. It was interesting to her that he had acted all nice when it came to the insurance paper, but now he couldn’t pull it off anymore.
“Are you done?” she asked, looking out at the street. She couldn’t even stand to look at his face anymore.
“You’re pitiful, you know that?” he spat out. “You just sit here all day, feeling sorry for yourself, doing nothing but wasting time in the kitchen. You know you can’t cook. That’s why we always had to hire caterers when we had a party. That’s why we had to eat out all the time.”
Aimee said nothing in response. She battled with the inner demons that wanted to rise up and agree with him. She thought of her friends at the book club and how they had raved about her cakes. And she thought of Betty who’d just paid her twenty-five dollars to take her cakes and use them to bring down Madge’s jello mold strangle hold. The demons and memories of Jack insulting her cooking for ten years disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Aimee turned her attention to Jack, looking him right in the eye. “Go to hell, Jack.”
He took one step toward her, a furious expression on his face, but then stopped when a voice reached their ears.
“Hello, Aimee, how are you today?” asked the postman, approaching them from the front walkway. “Beautiful weather, isn’t it?”
Aimee smiled brightly. “Sure is. How have you been, George?”
“Never better.” He stepped up onto the front porch, nodding perfunctorily at Jack. They had never met. “Got some mail for ya,” he said, handing it to Aimee.
“Thanks for the personal delivery,” she said, smiling and standing up to take the stack of envelopes from him. “Have a good one. Say hello to Sally for me.”
“My pleasure. Will do. You have a nice day too, now.” He left, continuing on to the next-door neighbor’s house.
“You and the mailman are on friendly terms.”
“Yeah. We sleep together every Wednesday. In your bed.”
Aimee was totally unprepared for his reaction.
He shoved her hard, sending her to the porch floor. She banged her knee on the chair that was in the way. A small scream of surprise left her lips.
“Whore,” he growled, before storming off the porch, getting into his sports car and squealing his tires as he left.
Aimee sat up carefully, slowly picking up the envelopes that had scattered around her. She stood gingerly, keeping the weight off her injured knee as much as she could. She knew she should probably be upset right now … crying too. But all she could do was smile through the pain. Today was th
e first time she could remember ever standing up to Jack, and it felt good. No, it felt wonderful.
She limped back into the house and glanced at the boxes that had been cut open and rifled through. Betty was right. She needed to get the hell out of there and fast. She could see the laptop computer screen on the kitchen counter from where she stood. It was open to an apartment listing service.
No better time than the present. She made herself a bag of ice for her knee and sat down at the computer, determined to find a new place to live before the day was out.
Chapter 11
KIKI CAME IN FROM HER back porch where she’d been trying to catch some of the afternoon’s dying rays for the tan she liked to maintain. She’d sworn off tanning booths after reading a scary article about them online, but she couldn’t make herself stay out of the sun.
“What to do, what to do?” she said out into the open space of her living room. She hadn’t realized when she’d started this whole unemployment thing that she’d be so bored all the time. She’d already read an entire book that day and two the day before. But she was tired of being a hermit.
She walked over to her laptop set up at the dining room table and sat down, glancing at its clock. “Five o’clock ... let’s see who’s up for a drink.” She tapped out an email, leaving the To field blank.
I’M BORED. WHO’S INTERESTED IN GRABBING A DRINK OVER AT O’MALLEYS?
She stared at the email, wondering who she should send it to. Not Cindi. She’d spend the entire time talking about her pimp, and that would just piss Kiki off. It was one thing to complain, but a totally different thing to do it and then go back to him. She had no patience for that tonight.
Shawnda wasn’t going to be on the list either. She was too busy with her new job and her old job. Another one of those complainers who didn’t have the guts to get out of the rat race.
She considered her other option for a second and couldn’t think of a reason not to do it, so she quickly typed Aimee’s and Elizabeth’s email addresses into the empty space and clicked Send. They’d never met outside of the book club before, but what the hell. The worst they could do is say no, right?