“Talking.”
“Well, who is that?”
“I don’t know.” Victoria snapped.
The whole thing was ridiculous. Why did she care? Catherine handed Victoria her portion of the bill and put her wallet away. She scooted to the end of the booth and her eyes glided to their corners to peek at Heather.
They sat face to face at the bar, the leather and brass nailhead-trim on their stools touched. Their legs interlocked on the bottom wood rungs, her muscular calves sandwiched by his. Heather placed her hand on his knee and he arched in never taking his eyes off her. Their grins mirrored one another.
Peter used to gaze at her like that. Now he barely caught her eye as he flew from room to room and then out the door again. The last time they made love was two years ago, when their daughter Emily turned five.
Heather suddenly looked different. Not the Heather Catherine worked with for the past six months, always angry and moody. Even from across the room she noticed the difference.
A roar expelled from Heather’s mouth that spewed a laugh across the entire restaurant. The bartender looked up at her and smiled. The two men from his table perked their heads up too. They pointed and nodded with sheepish grins. Why hadn’t any of them approached Catherine? She was attractive too.
Heather massaged her cheeks as if to release the ache from smiling for too long. That’s what it was. Heather was smiling. Cheerful, jubilant, and laughing. She was even more gorgeous when she smiled, her true beauty revealed, she absolutely glowed.
“We should interrupt them,” Catherine said. “It’s getting late.” Catherine rose, flung her large bag over her shoulder with the expectation of Heather noticing, but nothing interrupted her lock on him.
He lifted his hand and repositioned the long brown strands of Heather’s flowing hair away from her face. His right hand slid down her cheek. Heather closed her eyes and placed her hand over his.
Victoria grabbed Catherine’s arm, guided her to the front entrance and then nodded to Heather. Heather’s smile plummeted. She looked at them puzzled, as if she forgot where she was and that they were here with her.
They pushed open the doors to exit the restaurant and once outside, Catherine strained to see through the tinted double doors. The man wrote something on a napkin. Was he giving her his number? Catherine’s body tensed, her teeth grinded. Who did Heather think she was taking his number? She was married. She drew in slow steady breaths as heat flushed through her body. This had gone on long enough.
“Are you listening to me?” Victoria barked.
She jerked back. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“I said, let’s go.” Victoria plodded to her car and glared back at Catherine. “And not a word about this when she comes.”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s none of our business. If she wants to tell us she will.”
“That’s silly, she’ll tell us.”
****
Catherine and Emily entered the dance studio and headed to Room C for her five-thirty ballet class. Odessa Steenburgen and her enormous purple patent-leather handbag secured the space in front of the three-by-three window. Her purple leopard-print jacket needed the matching boots and then she could have passed for
Barney
’s mother.
Emily leaped into class like the pied piper, happy and enthusiastic. She changed into her ballet shoes while Catherine squeezed her head into the four-inch space left for her to peek in. Odessa waved at her daughter Madison as if attempting to flag a celebrity down for their autograph. Her hand came down hard on Catherine’s head.
“Oh, sorry Catherine, I didn’t see you. Is Emily here?”
“Yes, she’s standing right next to Madison.” Obviously. Why else would she be here.
“Yes, I see her now. No time to put her hair in a bun?”
“It is in a bun.”
“I guess she did it herself.”
“No, I did it. Her hair’s just very thin.”
Odessa’s lips pursed. “Perhaps a hairnet or hairspray next time?” She pivoted back to the window and her handbag’s buckle struck Catherine’s shoulder. Catherine tumbled to the right, no longer able to watch her daughter.
Class began and Odessa pulled herself away from the spotlight and plowed her bag into Catherine’s chest. “Madison will be doing competition next year. She’ll have dance class five days a week.”
Madison’s mouth opened wide, her eyes drooped.
“Don’t you think that’s a little too much? They’re only seven.”
“Oh no, not at all, it’s good for her. I’ll drop her off at three-thirty, she’ll do her homework for a half hour by herself and then the back-to-back classes begin. When we arrive home, she’ll eat dinner and be visibly exhausted. Then right to bed, it’s perfect.”
Perfect for her. How could this possibly be good for Madison? “That doesn’t leave much time for you to interact with her. When do you play with Madison?”
“Play with her?” She chuckled. “That’s what her friends are for. We pay big money to tire them out so they crash as soon as you get them home.”
Catherine shook her head. “Emily is just taking one ballet class next year. I feel it relaxes her after a long week in school.”
“Just one class? Is that all you can afford?”
Catherine raced home pushing the speed limit, driving close to 43 in the 40 mph zone. That woman infuriated her, who did she think she was? She clutched the steering wheel tighter.
A woman with long brown hair climbed out of a Jeep Cherokee. Heather popped into her head.
She’s another one. Heather’s secretive visit with that man enraged her. Was she jealous? Ha! Silliness. Was it that Heather looked ecstatic? Such a rarity for Heather. She should be thrilled for her but the vision of Heather in the back seat of Victoria’s car gazing out the window like some cartoon character shot with Cupid’s arrow stirred her blood.
Emily scrambled into the house. Catherine wrenched her handbag from the passenger seat but then sprang back banging her head on the door frame. The handle had caught on the gear shifter. She tugged fast to release it but its contents dropped between the seat cracks. “Darn, Darn, Darn!”
She struggled to reach for her ChapStick, a small tube of toothpaste and a Tide to Go pen. After cramming everything back in, she slammed her car door, stormed into her house and found Peter lounging on the couch smoking a cigar. “Did the boys do their homework?” She snapped, hurling her bag onto the floor.
Peter’s face contorted. He threw the TV remote control across the room knocking over the picture of their three children, then followed his cigar out and into the garage.
“Bentley! Colton!” Catherine screamed. Where were they?
“They’re in the basement watching TV.” Emily popped up around the corner, her ballet outfit still on.
“Why are you still wearing that? Get in the shower, you’re filthy.”
Emily leaped away and Catherine followed. Loud sprays of water shot out from the showerhead.
Bentley, the older of her two boys, sauntered by.
Catherine charged out of the bathroom and stopped him before he entered his room. “Did you do all your homework?”
He glared back at her, not answering.
“I asked you a question, Bentley, and where’s Colton?”
Bentley retreated down the hallway and Catherine chased after him. She stopped at his doorway. A huge Shaun White poster hung over his bed.
He didn’t.
“Please tell me you did not shove push pins into your wall. Or worse, tape!” But before Catherine could enter the room, he slammed the door shut. It shook the walls.
Colton appeared from behind her and attempted to sneak into his room before Catherine noticed.
“Colton. Colton! Get back here. Why is your backpack thrown all over the floor? Your lunchbox isn’t still in there, is it?”
She reached down to unzip his Iron Man backpack.
“Hey don’t touch that. It’s mine. Why are you always touching our stuff?” Colton ripped the bag out of her hand. “It’s mine. Get out! Get out of my room! I hate you.”
She recoiled from his words. Not the first time he uttered them but still heart breaking. “Okey dokey.” She tried to win him back. “How about some nice kiwi slices to sweeten you up?”
“What?” His mocking tone cut through her. He shook his head. “Go away. Leave me alone.” Colton grabbed his new
Diary of a Wimpy Kid
book and slumped into the corner of his room.
Catherine left, placed her hand on the wall outside his door and crumpled. Think positive, be happy, smile, keep it all together. You can do this. Look upbeat at all times.
****
Catherine slicked her butterscotch hair back into a tight ponytail like tense piano strings. She sprayed the sides with an extra coat of hairspray incase the gel failed. She reached for her beige dress, but stopped to stare at herself in the mirror. Her pale skin matched the color of her bra and underwear. Hard to tell where one stopped and one started.
A naked mannequin tossed in the back of a store. A discarded Barbie doll, nude and forgotten.
Pathetic. No wonder Peter didn’t initiate sex anymore. She did lose all the baby weight after each child, though, and kept her weight at exactly one hundred and twenty-five pounds. Her clothes ironed with a little added starch, hair perfectly groomed, no globs of slutty makeup, just some concealer and a dab of lip-gloss.
Catherine glimpsed at her breasts. Just for a second. Disgusting. They had grown so large with each pregnancy and with each breast feeding responsibility. She had hoped they would return to her peppy B cup but they loomed at the current DD size. She attempted to wear sports bras, bulky sweaters, loose fitting turtlenecks, and even buttoned her lab coat to the top. Anything to conceal them.
Embarrassed by them.
She pulled the front of the bra down and gazed at her two breasts. The nipples were dark and large too.
Gross.
Catherine swept her crème colored dress over her head and then tugged it down. It cleared her breasts and then hung on her like a Barbie doll wrapped in beige toilet paper. Even expensive clothes from Talbot’s could not transform her. She had hoped the other moms would be impressed by all her name-brand clothing and accessories, but they avoided her at the school functions.
“Are you almost ready?” Peter hollered from the kitchen.
“Yes, one second.” Catherine looked away.
No one wanted her. She tossed smiles at the doctors on her floor but they only tossed pitying grins back. The witty riddles and jokes Colton shared with her had failed with the doctors as well.
If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, what does garlic do? It keeps everyone away.
She thought they were funny.
Maybe she needed a little sparkle. A drop of jewelry to brighten up her ashen color. Catherine slipped on her mother’s pearl earrings.
Chapter 3
Victoria
“Victoria, have you completed the particulars for the Tough-Love 10K race?” Noreen Emberton, the Chairman of the Long Island Cancer Prevention Foundation, leaned back in her chair directing her attention to Victoria.
“Yes, it’s to be held on Saturday, September 22nd, beginning at nine in the morning at North Meadow Ridge Park in Overton Hills. Six hundred participants registered last year and we’re expecting a larger turnout this year.”
“Have we procured any sponsors?” Noreen’s emerald green suit out-colored the rest of the black suited board of directors.
“Gym Addiction, Cloveridge Water Company and Robust Protein Bars are all currently on board.” Victoria flipped the page on her yellow lined notepad. “I’m currently working on Jameson Popcorn and,” she paused, “The Amorous Baroness Inn.” Victoria tensed as she spoke the name, seeming unprofessional in the current setting. Noreen’s intimidating manner was overwhelming tonight.
“Very good. Promotional material? Press release? Local media coverage?”
“I’m coordinating with Sylvia and plan to work on that piece this week.” The yellow notepad shook in her hand as she filed it inside the folder and eight pairs of eyes focused on her. Her euphoria hid beneath blankets of self-doubt, fueled by lack of support. It didn’t matter how much she accomplished in her lifetime, each new ambition met with uncertainty.
Today though, her bliss stirred under the cloak, peeked out, then danced around the room. She knew she did well and attempted to hide her smirk. Victoria heaved a sigh louder than she planned and her childish act caught the attention of two elderly board members. They weren’t actually elderly, probably only a few years older than her, but it appeared that every man her age had let themselves go. The one on her right had more ear hair than the other one had on his head.
The board meeting adjourned. Victoria collected plates of leftover food and empty cups to toss into the garbage. Not her job as the Director of Special Events and Fundraising Coordinator, but the thought of leaving it for someone else pained her. The bitter scent of coffee lingered in the room, half eaten plates of sandwiches and cookies appeared abandoned.
She valued her position as the oncology dietitian at Norlyn Plains Hospital. Fifteen years of employment brought a great sense of achievement to her life. Her desire to do more for the cancer community prompted her to join the Cancer Foundation.
She also needed an escape from her monotonous life.
Victoria scooped up Noreen’s plate. One cookie, with a tiny nibble missing from the corner. A dry Royal Dansk butter cookie, no less. Why bother? As much as she admired her, the woman obviously needed to have sex.
Who was she kidding?
She
needed to have sex. When was the last time she and Ed did it? Too many years to remember.
Victoria deposited the empty pitchers of water back on the tri-level serving carts and their clinking echoed in the deserted boardroom. The hasty departure of the members crushed her spirit. She stroked her arms, but her posture wilted anyway.
Victoria trudged up the walkway and entered her home after 9 p.m. Her hunched posture continued, head drooped. The thump of her pocketbook onto the foyer table competed with fierce snoring emanating from the living room. Ed sprawled out on the sofa, pillow clenched under his arms like a teddy bear, his beer can standing guard beside him.