Chapter Fourteen
The morning of the company dinner, I woke to find the rash had grown. I ran my fingers over the bumps that dotted the undersides of my upper arms and wondered if it would be a good enough reason to not have to go to the dinner.
I played every excuse in my mind and realized that Henry would not accept any of them. But I wasn’t sure I could even get myself ready, not when I felt the way I did.
I hadn’t listened to Henry. He’d told me to go buy a dress and get to the salon, but I hadn’t done either. The salon used to be such a regular occurrence, but it had been months since I had been. It’s surprising how quickly we can slip out of routines.
I’d never been to a salon until Marian sent me to one before my bridal shower. Mama had always been the one to cut my hair, and until college, the only style required was one that kept my hair from my face as I fed the animals, ran through the fields, or swung in the tire swing. A braid worked just fine.
Once I got to college, I noticed that other girls seemed to put more time and effort into their hair. The first night of freshman year, as I watched my roommate, Doreen, take her one hundred brushstrokes before putting in rollers for the night, I wondered how she knew to do that. Had she taken a class I had somehow missed? And how did she sleep with those things on her head, pushing into her, pointing her neck at an angle? She always slept on her back, a snore escaping every few minutes. I wrapped the pillow around my
head, trying to dampen the sound. So far removed from the sounds of crickets and tree frogs, the silence was too loud, the snores disruptive.
I got used to it over time, as I suppose Doreen got used to the curlers as well.
“You’ve never used rollers?” she’d asked. She ran her fingers through my hair and decided to help me. “Do you have an old shirt? A rag of some sort?”
I gave her the closest I had to a rag, and she proceeded to rip it into strips.
She showed me how to comb, section, and wrap my hair around the strips of cloth. The next morning, I removed the rags and my hair hung in ringlets the likes of which I had never seen before. While the braid would add wave, it never achieved the curl the old cloth had.
That became my style for the rest of college, until Marian sent me to the hairdresser and I was educated on how to properly care for and style my hair.
Magazine subscriptions helped as well. Soon the practice became a routine.
Sometimes routine offers certainty, action without having to give thought, a practice that doesn’t require questioning. Sometimes it offers comfort.
Sometimes when we lose those routines, we lose ourselves.
The previous night I had gotten out the curlers and tried to remind myself of how to use them. Wesley joined me in the bathroom, watching as I stood in my slip in front of the bathroom mirror and rolled up one section of hair after another. He seemed delighted by the transformation, as intrigued as he was when he watched his favorite program, Howdy Doody. Henry walked in to find him puckering his lips and testing out my lipstick.
“You shouldn’t let him do that,” Henry said after he sent Wesley off to play. After he had wiped every bit of the Cherries in the Snow shade from his son’s lips.
“It’s fine. He’s not wasteful.”
“This isn’t about frugality,” Henry said. “It’s inappropriate.”
“He’s only four.”
“Yes. By this age, he can remember things. And he doesn’t need to see his mother half-naked.”
If only Henry knew of the days I spent sitting on the couch, nursing Wesley’s sister with my breast in full view as he played with the Lone Ranger and Roy Rogers figurines on the floor.
I told Henry that Wesley was only having a little fun. Then I reminded him that I was doing it because of him and the company dinner the next night.
After that, he locked himself in his office, and I handled the rest of the nighttime routine alone.
That night, I sat awake, eyes trained on the house opposite mine. Waiting for a light to trip on, for the woman across the way to appear in the window. I waited to witness her secrets, see her flinch again, knowing she was hiding something beneath that perfect veneer, but unsure exactly what. And as the hours ticked by, my brain slipped somewhere new, somewhere distant and dark. Until the conscious world disappeared.
When I woke under the weight of Luna in the morning, I smelled colors as soon as my eyes opened. I tried to go through the motions of the day. I even tried to distract myself by counting my stamps, but I couldn’t concentrate. In the afternoon, I removed the curlers, but I stood frozen in front of the mirror, my hands aching, my mind vibrating, my eyes throbbing. I made myself a drink and when that didn’t seem to help, I poured a second one. But as the clock ticked ever closer to when Henry would be there to pick me up, I did the only thing I knew to do: I forced myself to be the good wife he wanted.
Despite the heat wave that hung heavy that week, I chose a long-sleeved dress to hide the rash. Henry seemed to like my choice, because when he first caught sight of me, he smiled like he did when he used to notice me. As we pulled away from the house and out of the neighborhood, my heart began to pound, thumping in my chest, beating in my ears, throbbing against my
forehead. Heat rose in my cheeks, and I regretted not putting on more deodorant.
“You’ll be great tonight,” Henry told me. “And I can’t wait for you to meet Alice.”
Of all the duties I had that night, the one he focused on most was meeting the firm’s new assistant, the woman he had helped hire when I was too pregnant to waddle into the office and make her acquaintance. I had spoken to her a few times by phone, when she called to tell me Henry would be home late. She sounded young, probably one of those girls who went straight to secretarial school and into an office job, another way of finding a husband. A path I might’ve taken had it not been for Henry.
“I can’t wait,” I told him as I took a deep breath and tried to calm my pounding heart.
Before we got out of the car, Henry reminded me of why I was there. “Put in a good word for me with Jack, but don’t bring up his wife. She’s been off with relatives for a while. And save him a dance. You know he always likes that.”
As Henry walked around the car to open my door, I checked myself in my compact mirror. A different version of Lulu stared back. Someone who used to exist but had faded away over the last months, morphed into someone else.
Someone not used to updos and fancy dresses, mingling and dancing, making good impressions. Maybe I hadn’t morphed; maybe I had lost the mask and the middle-of-the-night Lulu was more real than the one who looked at me through the mirror.
The woman in the mirror was who Henry needed me to be that night, so I took his hand and let him guide me into the party. I smiled and waved at those I needed to. I shook hands when one was extended to me. I sipped champagne and welcomed refills. I didn’t even let the smile fade from my face when Alice, with the baby fat still rounding her cheeks, told me, “It’s so
nice to meet you, ma’am.”
I continued to smile as I told her it was nice to meet the new office girl, and I watched as she looked at Henry and blushed.
Thankfully, Mr. Ellis wanted to dance. I finished the rest of my champagne and let him lead me onto the dance floor. I placed one hand in his as his other wrapped around my waist.
“It’s so good to see you out and about,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have missed this,” I lied, but that was part of being a wife.
“Your boy’s been working hard.” So he had noticed. “I knew I made the right decision bringing him on board. He was young, but he showed promise.”
“And the promise is paying off?”
Jack slid his hand farther down my back so the tips of his fingers rested just below the waist of my panties. “I think so.”
He pulled me closer to him so his stomach pushed into me, and his plaid jacket smelled like mincemeat pie. He put his cheek against mine and hummed into my ear. His voice rattled deep, a low vibration thrumming like a hive active with anxious bees. He spun me around the dance floor, never loosening his grip. I looked for Henry, hoping he would cut in. It took a few more turns until I found him, in the corner by the bar, laughing with Alice.
The static of bees grew frantic, electric in my ears, as the room tilted on its axis.
I began to sweat, certain Jack would feel it against his cheek, or on his hand pressed into my lower back. But he gave no indication. He held tight, humming with the music as he moved us around the dance floor. I couldn’t look at Henry and Alice anymore. I shifted my gaze overhead to the chandeliers. But they swirled and so did I.
I tried to loosen his grip on me, create some space between us. Even with a lump in my throat, I forced out words, hoping if I got him talking, he’d slow
down the dancing. “He’s enjoying what he’s doing.” I swallowed before continuing, willing the bile and champagne to stay in my stomach. “But looking forward to what’s next.”
Jack had taken to me the first time we met, telling me that I reminded him of the one who got away. At the time, I had taken it as a compliment, but looking back, I thought of how his wife had looked away when he said that and then excused herself.
“Well, he’s got a future ahead of him.”
I breathed again, thankful to have something to concentrate on other than the spinning room. I pushed further, but knew I couldn’t speak too directly, even if Jack did like me. “I know he’s hoping that future comes soon.”
“Mmm,” his voice rumbled, as if he was thinking about what I meant.
“Well, he is still young.”
“Has he shown you the new plans?” He hadn’t shown me what he had been working on most every evening and weekend. I hadn’t asked either, but I needed to say something. “Works on them every night.”
“Does he, now?”
“Comes home for dinner and then straight into his office.”
“Mmm.” I gave him a minute to think, to consider what those plans might look like, how they might help the company, how Henry was putting in the hours that showed his commitment, the justification for the promotion that had been slow coming. But I should’ve continued, because in the pause, he began to consider someone else. “Did he tell you about Gary? Gary Betser?”
The bile climbed higher, burning my throat, threatening to escape. “He’s got a lot of experience. Nice guy, too.”
“Yes, lots of commercial experience, from what I hear. Seems like a different thing, designing for a business versus a cozy place to raise a family.”
“I’ve seen his renderings. He’s a good architect.”
“But he’s a project manager.”
“Maybe not anymore.”
I pressed my lips together and smiled as those words replayed in my mind.
Was he implying that Gary was going for the promotion Henry had thought was his?
Jack tightened his arm around my waist. I looked over his shoulder, trying to find Henry. I didn’t know if I could last much longer. After that song, I needed to get home. Jack continued the box step to his own rhythm, turning me despite my desire to stay still.
“You know what I always look for in an employee? Loyalty. Do you think Henry’s got that?”
I took a deep breath, willing myself to hold it together. The song ended and Jack let go of me. Over his shoulder, I caught sight of Henry and Alice, standing together in a corner as he leaned close to her and she said something into his ear. The bile rose again, but I pushed it down. I tried to keep my eyes on Jack’s, wanting more than anything to not smell the color of his jacket anymore. Through a painted smile, I said, “Absolutely.”
Walking off that dance floor and over to my husband took my last bits of strength. I remember in the days after Daddy died, watching Mama go through the motions—dress us kids, stand beside the casket, silent and still. I did as she did until the middle of the night, and then I wondered if she heard me crying through the floorboards. If she did, she never told me, but she didn’t talk a lot those days.
As I stood before Henry, I thought of her, and for the first time that I could remember, I told myself to be like her, to stand still. But instead of being silent, I spoke. “We need to go.”
Henry looked from Alice to me, his expression shifting to confusion as he asked, “What?”
“Alice, it was lovely to meet you,” I said as I extended my hand to her and
hoped she wouldn’t see mine shaking from the effort it took to keep myself together. “I’m afraid we need to call it an early night.”
I whispered to Henry that I wasn’t feeling well. Then I headed to the car and waited for him to say his proper goodbyes. I didn’t give him time to protest, to try to talk me out of it. I knew he was too well mannered to cause a scene in front of everyone, but his first question when he got into the car and slammed the door closed was, “What the hell, Lulu?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. I didn’t want to feel like that. I didn’t want to have to leave, to go home, to pull Henry away from what he needed to do to land the promotion, but my body had not given me a choice.
He pounded his fist on the steering wheel and said nothing to me, not even when he turned off the car and placed the keys in the visor. I didn’t wait for him to walk around and open my door, as he typically would, especially on a night out like that. We both got out at the same time, and he looked at me over the car.
“What is going on?” he asked me. “Ever since—”
“I don’t know.” I had a decision to make: I could keep my answer at that, or I could tell him how I’d been feeling. But I looked at him as the streetlight illuminated one side of his face, and I said the only thing I thought he wanted to hear: “I’m sorry.”
“God, Lulu. You don’t know what it’s been like.” That made two of us. “I needed to be there tonight to show Jack I’m ready for more than being a junior architect. I just needed a couple of hours from you. I didn’t realize that was too much to ask.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. He didn’t know that what he had asked was more than a couple of hours of me smiling beside him.
“I danced with him. Isn’t that what you needed?”
“You know it’s more than that.”
“And do you know he’s looking at Gary?”
“Yeah, to be a project manager. I introduced them.”
“No. Not a project manager.” I put my hands on the hood of the car, trying to steady myself as the night began to swirl around me. “It’s you or him; do you know that?”
Henry pounded his fist on the car. “Shit.” As he leaned over the hood, I saw Luna sitting at the corner of the house, ready to head to the backyard, to sit on the patio and wait for me to let her into the house. She didn’t come closer, as if knowing to stay only in my line of sight.
I lost her in the darkness as my vision began to fade. I should’ve had more than Wesley’s sandwich crust that day. The pounding in my head grew louder as the black of night swirled around me and my body fell to the driveway.
I think I was only unconscious for a moment. All I know is that as I came to, Henry told me not to stand. He picked me up in his arms and carried me into the house, like when he carried me over the threshold the day we moved in. This time, we didn’t laugh. He didn’t spin me around the living room.
Instead, he carried me down the hallway and placed me on the bed before he went out to the living room and whispered to a concerned Hatti.
I did the only thing I was capable of at that moment. With my hair still pinned in a chignon and while still wearing my sheath dress, I rolled onto my side. I didn’t bother to remove the red lipstick that, by the time I’d wake a few hours later, would be smeared across my pillow. Streaks of Revlon blood from the battle I’d lost.
