Country (22 page)

The Fourth of July party at Brad and Alyson's house in Ross was the epitome of everything Stephanie had been afraid her life would be like as a widow in San Francisco, with all the people they had known, in the familiar world where she now felt like a misfit. And everything people said that night just made her feel worse. They all told her how “sorry” they were for “her loss,” like a mantra they had to say the moment they saw her. Then they asked how she was “doing,” as though she were in treatment for a terminal disease, which it was in a way. Widowhood was the end of life as she knew it, but it was inconceivable to them that there was any form of life beyond it. Their pity for her radiated from their eyes like gentle daggers that pierced her heart. She had never missed Bill more than that night, and she didn't even know why. He would have hated the evening, complained about going, made her leave early, and told her how stupid Fourth of July parties were and that they shouldn't have gone. She always wanted to stay at parties longer than he did, and he always made her leave early because he had a meeting the next day, or an early golf date on a holiday or Sunday.

The party was held in Brad and Alyson's beautifully manicured garden at their house in Ross. All of their neighbors were there, most of whom Stephanie knew, and even those she didn't were sorry for her when mutual friends told them about Bill's death on the ski slopes nearly five months before. She felt as though she should have worn a black veil or widow's weeds to the party, but she didn't need to. They treated her that way anyway. She was “Poor Stephanie” in their eyes, and nothing was going to change that. And while feeling sorry for her, the wives were slightly suspicious of her, as though she were dangerous now, and the husbands were much too friendly and a little too cozy, which proved their wives right. There was no way to be herself or a normal person in their midst. Alyson was nervous throughout, worried that the caterer wasn't doing things right, and she went inside several times to check on the kids. Brad was too jovial and acted like he'd had a lot to drink. The waiters were passing trays of margaritas, and no matter how many Stephanie had, she felt painfully sober throughout the evening, even if slightly sick.

And Brad had kept an arm around her for a little too long as he asked how she was doing, and he said they didn't see enough of her now. He asked what she'd been up to but didn't listen to what she told him, and she had the feeling that if she'd read the Yellow Pages to him as an answer, he would have smiled and listened in the same sympathetic way. He told her she looked great, but she didn't feel it. Jean and Fred were there too. Jean was flirting with several men after too many margaritas, and Fred fell asleep in a chair before the buffet dinner. Stephanie felt disconnected from everyone there although she had known them for twenty years.

They talked about nothing, and just talked at each other while they ate and drank all night, asked about one another's kids but didn't listen. The fourteenth time someone asked her, after telling her how sorry they were about her loss again, she wanted to tell them that Michael was in jail, Louise was turning tricks in New York, and Charlotte had gotten knocked up in Europe. She didn't, but they wouldn't have heard her anyway. It was the most depressing evening she'd spent in years, and Alyson asked her solicitously if she'd had a good time, somehow conveying the message that she knew she couldn't possibly since she'd come alone, and no longer had a husband.

Stephanie quietly called a cab to take her home, since she'd arrived in one so she could have a drink or two. The others had driven themselves, and would be driving home drunk all over Marin, as they always did. She wanted to scream on the ride home, and she watched the fireworks from the cab on the Golden Gate Bridge. They were pretty, but the evening had been morbidly depressing. And she couldn't even call Chase to tell him about it, since he was on stage in Nashville at that moment. She was happy to know that her son was there and wished she were too. She had slipped away and only said goodbye to Alyson. She just couldn't face all the others to say goodbye in her new role of “Poor Stephanie.” It was the first party she'd gone to since Bill died, and it had been unbearable for her.

She paid the cab and went inside to the dark house and silence that were familiar now. There was no one to talk to about the party, and she didn't want to anyway. She put on jeans and an old sweater, and she didn't want to go to bed, so she finally tackled the project she had dreaded most, knowing she couldn't get more depressed than she already was. She started emptying Bill's closet, and laid his jackets and trousers one by one on their bed. She and Michael had already discussed it, and he was much taller than his father, and thinner, there was nothing he could wear or wanted to keep. And his feet were three sizes larger than his father's. So she was going to give it all away.

She had put boxes aside in the garage for the project, and she brought them all upstairs. It was nearly four o'clock in the morning when she finished, and all of Bill's suits, slacks, sports coats, shirts, ties, shoes, underwear, and everything he'd ever worn, including his tuxedo, was neatly folded in boxes, and taped closed. She didn't even feel the tears running down her cheeks. And all of his drawers and closets in his dressing room were empty. There was no sign of him at all except in the photographs of him around the house in silver frames. He was a ghost now. He was gone.

She fell asleep on the bed with her clothes on, too tired to change, and she walked around the house the next morning, as though seeing it for the first time. She moved some chairs around, and a table. She pushed her desk to the other side of the room, and she was surprised by how much better things looked when she was finished. She even rehung some paintings in the living room and dining room, and took down one Bill had loved and she didn't. They'd bought it in London, of a hunt with the hounds tearing a fox apart. She was going to put it in a storeroom they had downstairs, she didn't want to see it anymore. She took out some silver bowls she'd put away, and a small statue she loved that Bill had hated, and the house started to look more feminine as she moved things, and put things away. She was desperate suddenly to make it her own, and no longer theirs.

And that afternoon she moved some of her clothes into his closet. She felt like a traitor doing it, as though she were burying him again. But she didn't want to live in a shrine. It was her house now, for as long as she chose to live there, and she had a feeling he would have done the same thing.

She carried all the boxes down to the garage to give them away, and Jean called as she was coming back up the stairs. She'd been busy all day. And she hadn't heard from Chase yet, which was unusual for him, but she was glad she hadn't. She needed to do this alone. She was relieved that it was Jean.

“Great party, wasn't it?” Jean said happily, and Stephanie hesitated for a long moment, not sure what to say, and decided to tell her the truth.

“I hated it. I felt like a freak all night. ‘Poor Stephanie…I'm so sorry for your loss…what have you been doing?…oh poor you…and how are the children doing?' It's like I have no identity anymore except as whatever is left of Bill. I felt like I was on furlough from a mental institution. And why was Alyson so nervous all night? She looked like she needed a Xanax or a Valium or something.”

“You know how Brad is. He wants everything perfect, so she gets nervous. But I thought she did a great job. I'm sorry you had a tough time, Steph. It was the first time you went out. It'll be better next time.” Not unless she got new friends, Stephanie thought to herself. The prospect of going through that again made her want to scream. She'd felt like a whole person in Nashville, where no one knew her, but the night before had been her worst nightmare come true. She felt buried alive with Bill.

“I emptied all his closets last night when I got home. I just couldn't take it anymore. I was suffocating. I feel like I've lost my identity. It's like they think I'm nobody without him. And I think so too. No job, no career, no kids anymore, no Bill. There's nothing left of me. That's all I ever was, the service department for all of them with no identity of my own. I need to do something with my life, but I just don't know what. There's no me.”

“Yes, there is,” Jean said soothingly. She could hear how upset she was, and she understood. “You were a great wife, and you're still a great mother. You didn't have time to be you when they were all here. You were taking care of them. The same thing would happen to Alyson if Brad died. Good wives don't make themselves known, they're too busy nurturing other people, unless you're a bitch like me.” Stephanie laughed at what she said, but Jean had a definite personality, was true to herself, and took care of her own needs. Stephanie knew she hadn't. She had always been quiet and discreet and done what Bill wanted and what worked for him. It never occurred to anyone, least of all him, what she needed or what worked for her.

“Maybe I was too scared to speak up,” she said to Jean. And she thought Alyson was too. She was so terrified to lose Brad, or piss him off, that she had stopped being anyone except the person he wanted her to be, not who she had been. “What's wrong with us, acting like that? And then they die, or leave us, and there's no us left, just the shell of what we once were. That's not who I want to be anymore,” Stephanie said firmly, “I want to be me. I just don't know who that is yet.”

“You'll figure it out,” Jean said calmly. “I'm proud of you, Steph. You've grown up since Bill died.” And her drive across the country had been a rite of passage of some kind, as much as the trip to Nashville with Chase. She had been brave enough to enter and explore new worlds, which she could never have done with Bill. And Stephanie had the strange feeling that if Bill had returned from the dead at that moment, she wouldn't have wanted to be married to him anymore, even if she was lonely now. She was beginning to like who she was becoming too much to ever give it up. She was never going to let anyone do that to her again.

They talked for a while, and Chase called her late that afternoon. He apologized for not calling sooner, but they had left the concert and gone out to all the bars with live music, so he could show Michael, and they had done the same again that day. Chase said they'd had a ball. It was what Nashville was all about, and they were going to the Grand Ole Opry that night, which Michael wanted to see too.

“Don't let him wear you out,” Stephanie said
apologetically.

“He won't. This is what I love. And he knows a lot about country music. I was surprised.”

“He loved it when he was a kid. How are he and Sandy doing?” She was dying to hear about that. She was so excited about his being there with her, and breaking up with Amanda. She was so relieved for him.

“They're getting along like a house afire. He's so sweet to her, it's really cute to watch. She's never known anyone like him, except me.” He laughed. “The boys she meets around here are a little rough around the edges, especially on the music scene. Or they're sucking up to me. Michael is a man, and he acts like one. He's very protective of her.” Chase loved what he had seen, and it was easy to see how attracted they were to each other. They were always kissing and holding hands when they thought no one was watching. “I think we have a real romance on our hands here.” He was happy to see it. Her son was a lovely person, Chase trusted Sandy with him completely, and they had been very well behaved the night before. Michael had said goodnight to her in the garden, and had breakfast with Chase in his kitchen that day.

He couldn't stay on with Stephanie for long because they were going to the concert at the Grand Ole Opry, but she was thrilled with the report, and it boosted her spirits as she continued to change things around the house. And she ate dinner alone in the kitchen at ten o'clock, and sent Alyson an e-mail, thanking her for the party. She wondered what Chase and the others were doing at that moment, and wished she was there.

Michael told Chase that the Grand Ole Opry was everything he had expected and more, although he had enjoyed Chase's concert even more the night before and loved watching Sandy perform. Just as it was for his mother, it was a whole new world for him. He met Randy Travis, Tim McGraw, Carrie Underwood, and Alan Jackson when he went out with Chase and Sandy afterward, and Chase's son Derek had come for the night from Memphis and was staying with friends, and Michael enjoyed meeting him too. He was a smart guy, and good to talk to. And it was obvious how much he and Chase liked each other and enjoyed each other's company.

But the highlight of the weekend for Michael was Sandy. He was absolutely dazzled by her, and was mesmerized by her solo at Chase's concert. She had a powerful voice that soared on the high notes like a gospel singer. Chase had taught her how to maximize the range of her voice. The crowd had gone wild when she finished, and so did he. And when she wasn't working, they laughed and talked and had a great time together. It was so different from everything he'd experienced with Amanda, who was so much more intense than he wanted to be. Sandy was like a summer breeze, gentle on his cheek. And when he kissed her, it drove them both to the edge of passion, but they managed to stay within sane boundaries for the entire weekend, although with some difficulty. His body ached for her every time he touched her, and hers did the same. But Chase was impressed by how reasonable they were and how well they behaved. Michael was a responsible young man, and Chase wasn't sure he could have done the same at his age.

“I was a lot wilder than he was,” Chase told his mother. “You've got a good boy, Stevie.” She was proud of him too, and slightly concerned for Sandy. She was only eighteen, and Michael was seven years older. She had a long way to go, and a big career ahead of her, before she could settle down, no matter how in love they were, and Chase agreed.