On This Day (18 page)

A
s I exit the bar, I spot Ingrid coming up the stairs. She’s walking slowly, looking down, so I know she doesn’t see me. I wait for her to reach the landing before I say hello.

“Oh!” she says, starded to see me there.

“How’s it going?” I ask.

She sighs, then shakes her head. “I’m not quite sure.”

“I noticed you and Jason down by the lake …”

“Yeah, I’m sure we were a hard act to miss. Could you hear me yelling at him?”

I make a weak smile. “Sort of. Do you need to talk?”

“I don’t know …” She searches my face. “I know I need to pull myself together for the rest of the evening.”

“Come to my room with me,” I tell her. “I’m just going for
my shawl. It’s not long before dinner, but maybe you can unload on me.”

“Im kind of in a state of shock,” she says as we walk down the hallway. “I mean, I guess I should be relieved, but I feel totally stunned.”

I pause to unlock the door and say, “Uh-huh,” to show her I’m still listening.

“Jason broke off our engagement.”

I turn to look at her, drop my key back in my purse, then reach out and give her a big hug. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That
must’ve
been shocking!”

I hear her give a little sob, then mutter, “Yeah.”

We step apart, and I lead her into the room. “Have a seat.”

She flops down into the easy chair, her pale pink skirt billowing about her like a parachute. “It’s just so weird, Elizabeth. I’m not even sure what to think.”

I hand her a tissue. “Seems a case of bad timing, if you ask me.”

“Jason is involved with another girl—”

“Men!” I pick up the soft cashmere shawl and drape it over my arm. “Who needs them, anyway?”

“Huh?” she looks at me with surprise.

I force a small laugh. “Well, they can be real jerks sometimes.”

Now she sort of laughs. “Some of them. At least you have a good one, Elizabeth. And your sons both seem very decent.”

“I don’t know.” I weigh my words now. “That Conner has broken a few hearts in his day.”

She nods. “Well, no ones perfect, right?”

“Right.”

“But I never expected Jason to be the one to break up with me.”

“Meaning you thought you’d break up with him?”

Her cheeks seem to glow a darker shade of rose now. “Sort of …”

“Oh, so you were thinking of breaking it off, but he beat you to it?”

“Exactly.”

Now I actually have to laugh. “Then, really, Ingrid, what’s the problem?”

“It still hurt.”

I nod. “Yes, I can see how it would. Especially on your best friend’s wedding day. Not exactly what you were hoping for, I’m sure.”

She takes in a deep breath, then slowly lets it out. “But it
is
for the best.”

“Yes. And as hard as it is, I’m sure you can put on your party face for just a couple more hours.”

“I really was looking forward to the dinner—you know, relaxing a little after all the work I’ve put in these last few days. And I was even looking forward to dancing tonight too, just letting loose and having some fun.”

“No reason you can’t still do that.”

She seems to consider this. “No, I guess not.”

“There are a few available men to dance with, even if Jenny’s
brothers are married. I happen to know that at least one of my sons isn’t spoken for, and he’s not a bad dancer, either.”

Ingrid glances down at her lap now, almost as if she’s avoiding my eyes. And I actually begin to wonder if she has some sort of interest in Patrick. She’s been around my boys for years. But who knows? I turn to the mirror and touch up my lipstick.

“Patrick seems like a genuinely nice guy,” she finally says.

I turn around and smile at her. “I’d have to agree with you on that.”

“I mean, both your sons are nice.”

I laugh. “Are you ready to go back down there now?”

She stands and smoothes her skirt. “I think I am. Thanks for the pep talk.”

“No problem.”

“But what do I do?” she says suddenly as we’re walking down the hall.

“About what?”

“About Jason and me? I mean, do I tell anyone? Or do I act like everything’s just fine?”

I consider this. “Well, you know Jenny will probably notice he’s not here. And she’ll probably ask about it.”

“I know …”

We pause at the top of the stairs. “You girls have been friends a long time, and Jenny’s good at sniffing out a lie.”

“I know.”

“So why not just tell her? But let her know that you’re okay and that you were about to break it off anyway.”

“You think? I don’t want her worrying about me, not right before her honeymoon. You know how sympathetic she is.”

“How about this?” I say suddenly. “Why don’t you tell her you’ve already got your eye on someone? You could even pretend it’s someone here at the wedding, perhaps one of the groomsmen. It could even be my Patrick. I’m sure he’d be happy to play along with you. Then Jenny would see you having a good time, and she wouldn’t think twice about silly old Jason.”

“That’s a fantastic idea, Elizabeth. But I don’t want to impose on poor Patrick.”

I pat her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. He wouldn’t play along unless he was enjoying it too. Why don’t you let me put a little bug in his ear for you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It would give this mother great pleasure,” I assure her.

As we go down the stairs, I can tell by the spring in Ingrids step that my little plan appeals to her. I could be imagining things, but I think Ingrid and Patrick would make a delightful pair. And wouldn’t it be nice if at least one person in my immediate family came out ahead after this painful weekend?

I
tried to give her the bottle,” Jamie says as I burst through the door. “But she wouldn’t take it. And then she just started screaming like this.” She thrusts Amy at me. “I didn’t know what to do. I was about ready to call the desk and have someone go after you.”

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” I say in a soothing voice as I jiggle Amy with one arm and try to reach for the zipper in the back of my dress with the other.

“Do you need help?” asks Jamie.

“Thanks,” I tell her, waiting as she pulls the zipper down. Then I head for the easy chair by the window. Amy’s crying has softened just a bit, but it’s obvious she’s hungry.

I glance up at the flustered teenager. “I’ll be fine; you can take off now.”

“Do you want me to come back later?”

I consider this. “No,” I finally say, “I think we’ll be all right. I’m taking her down to the dinner, and then I might just call it a night.”

“Sorry she got so wound up.”

“It’s okay,” I say in that soothing voice again. I hear the door close, and I focus all my attention on Amy now. Thankfully, she is easily appeased, at least when you’ve got what she wants. And I most certainly do!

There is something incredibly satisfying about feeding a baby from your own body. Something so basic and down-to-earth that it makes other troubles and worries pale in comparison. And that’s how it is as I quietly sit in the chair, taking a deep breath as Amy begins to eat, first hungrily, then with more leisure as her little muscles relax. Finally, exhausted from her crying jag, she falls asleep at my breast.

I hold her for a while, making certain she’s sound asleep. Then I set her in the portacrib and go into the bathroom to clean up a bit. I take time to freshen my makeup and touch up my hair, and to my surprise, I feel very calm and almost ready for the rest of the evening. Still, Amy is enjoying a nice little nap, and I know I would be foolish not to take advantage of this quiet time myself. So, with my dress still on, I stretch out on the bed, careful not to get too many wrinkles, and then I just float away.

“Honey.” I hear David’s voice and wonder if it’s a dream. But then I open my eyes, and there he is, standing over me. “Sorry to
wake you, especially when you looked so peaceful and pretty But it’s about five minutes until dinner. Are you girls coming?”

I blink, sit up, and look at the clock. I can’t believe I slept that long. “Yes,” I tell him, getting up.

“I’d stick around and help, but I want to be down there in time for the first toasts.”

“Of course,” I tell him as I get Amy’s little pink dress out of my suitcase. “Go on ahead of us. We’ll be down shortly.”

He leans over and pecks me on the cheek. “You really did look like Sleeping Beauty just now, Laura. I wish we could stay in this evening.”

Surprised, I look up at him. “Seriously?”

He nods, then winks. “See you later, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll hurry.”

I feel guilty waking Amy, but she seems cheerful and relaxed as I change her diaper and put on her little dress, tights, and the tiniest white satin Mary Jane shoes. I hold her up and smile. “You are absolutely adorable,” I tell her. “Next to your aunt Jenny, you’ll be the prettiest girl down there.”

I take a moment to check my own appearance, but nothing seems changed since I took my nap. And I know it will do no good to spend too much time in front of the mirror, since chances are, I’ll only focus on my flaws and then obsess about them once I’m downstairs, back among the
beautiful
people.

“Don’t even go there,” I warn myself as I put a lacy white baby shawl around Amy. And then I decide it’s about time I gave myself
another little lecture or pep talk or whatever I’m calling it. Even if I’m already late, I don’t want to go down there and fall right into one of my stupid pity parties again. So I step in front of the mirror on the closet door and begin to speak.

“Okay, Laura, maybe you’re not the hottest girl down there,” I tell my reflection. “But you’re not exactly chopped liver, either. And you have this beautiful baby girl.” I hold up Amy so she can see into the mirror too. Not that she’s looking. “And if David’s parents can’t appreciate all this, well, then who cares?” Now, in all fairness, I know that Alex adores his granddaughter. And Catherine, in her own way and when she’s not obsessing over wedding details, is fairly fond of Amy too.

“So quit feeling sorry for yourself,” I say, determined to master this thing. “Lighten up and have some fun.”

I shove a few baby essentials into my purse, then take a deep breath and head downstairs. I know I’m a few minutes late, but people should cut you some slack when you have a newborn, right?

I continue my pep talk as I go down the stairs. I am a decent, valuable, caring human being. David loves me dearly. Amy loves me dearly. We’re a happy family, and nothing is going to change that. And money doesn’t buy happiness.

Even when I see some of the more elegant wedding guests moving through the lobby, being fashionably late although they don’t have babies, and even when I notice the expensive gowns, the exquisite shoes, the costly jewelry, I continue with my mental pep
talk slogans.
Money does not equal happiness. Love cannot be purchased. The best things in life are free
. And as trite and cliché as these may sound, I am holding on to them like diamonds. Because somehow I’ve got to make it through this evening with a bit of dignity and grace.
God, help me!

I
can’t believe that Jim never came back, that he left me in the bar to rot and grow old by myself. First I look in our room, thinking he may have ducked in to catch a quick catnap, but there’s no sign of him. I take a few minutes to touch up my makeup and hair, but as I apply a new coat of iced peach lipstick, I’m wondering why I even bother. Why do I care anymore? Will he even notice? Does it really make any difference?

For all I know, he’s with her right now, doing who knows what? And why not be honest? Why kid myself? Although it was only thirty minutes before dinnertime when he dashed out of the bar, well, that’s still plenty of time for good old Jim boy.

Sometimes that man just totally disgusts me. Sometimes our life totally disgusts me too. Especially when I’ve had a bit to drink. Like tonight. I pause in front of the mirror, taking a moment to
really study my reflection. Despite what should be the blurring effect of alcohol, my features look harsh and sharp. Every line and crease seems to stand out in this poorly lit bathroom. And my hair color is all wrong. When did it become so brassy and cheap looking?

I go out to the full-length mirror now. This dress that I thought was so perfect earlier really doesn’t look like much today. And my figure … Well, I don’t even want to go there. How did I get like this? Why did I let myself go?

I remember when I was Jenny’s age. When I looked young and fresh and alive. When I was the kind of woman who turned heads. Now I just look old and tired, ready to be replaced by a newer model. I know he’s with Nicole now—Im certain of it. And it makes me absolutely livid. I am furious. Why do I put up with his stunts anyway? Maybe Elizabeth is right; maybe it’s just not worth it!

Just thinking of Nicole, looking so cool and calm in her pale blue suit, pretending that she hadn’t been watching Jim, probably plotting her next move, makes me want to scream! I’d really like to take that girl out. I’d like to jump on her, scratch her pretty face with my fingernails, and pull her hair out in big brown hunks. Well, not really. I wouldn’t want to make a spectacle of myself. Maybe I can just have her killed.

I remember when I was thirteen and a girl jumped on me like that. Right there in the hallway next to the cafeteria. Her name was Cynthia Arnold, and she claimed that I’d been flirting with her boyfriend. And maybe I had, but did that give her the right to
attack me? But the weird thing was, when she lunged at me, completely taking me by surprise, I didn’t just play the victim and take it. I fought back. I can still remember the frightened look in her eyes when I laid into her. It was like an animal had been unleashed in me, and I kicked and scratched and pulled hair. I screamed like a wildcat. Cynthia Arnold took a beating that day. And no one ever jumped Suzette Floss again.

I can’t believe I’m thinking about this now. Why go there? I’ve worked hard to put all that behind me. Even Jim has never heard the truth of my lackluster childhood in the Midwest. I told him that my parents were killed in a car wreck when I was nine and that my grandma raised me after that. The truth is, I’m ashamed, always have been, of my unimpressive family. My alcoholic father and his dead-end job at the factory. My overweight mother who thinks shopping only involves a store that ends with the word “mart.” I grew up with hand-me-downs and put-downs, and after I graduated from high school, I blew out of town faster than a tornado. And I’ve never looked back. In my mind, my parents, my family—they are all dead and buried.

“Forget about it, Suzette,” I seethe at myself. “Let the past go. Move on.”

But it’s like I’m stuck. Like I’m trapped, and somewhere deep inside, I’ll always be that pathetically poor little Suzette Floss with the crooked teeth. That pitiful secondhand girl from the wrong side of town. A loser who will never really make anything of herself. I can’t shake it.

That’s how I know I’ll give in. I know that despite the way Jim cheats on me, despite how much he hurts me, I can’t walk away from him. I need him too much. I need his prestige. I need his money. I cannot survive without him. And that’s how I know that no price is too high to pay for this marriage. No matter what it takes, I must hang on to Jim. I must make this work.

I’m just not sure how. I glance at the clock and realize that I’d better go downstairs. Perhaps Jim is already seated at the dinner and waiting for me. I’d much rather make my entrance by his side, my hand on his arm, and have him pull the chair out for me. But beggars can’t be choosers, right? That’s what my mother used to tell me. I guess it’s still true today.

I give myself an expensive squirt of perfume, take one last look in the mirror, pick up my purse, and go.
You can do this, Suzette
, I tell myself.
Just hold your chin up and smile
.