Authors: Joy Fielding
“Is that why you came here? To make amends?”
“I’m not sure why I came.”
“Have you talked to Jeff about this?”
“What’s there to say he doesn’t already know?”
“That you’re sorry,” Suzy said.
“I used to worship him, you know?” Will continued, as if a valve had been turned on in his memory and he was powerless to turn it off. “He was like this god to me. He was everything I wanted to be. Everything I wasn’t. Handsome, charismatic, athletic, talented. The girls couldn’t keep their hands off him. He’d cock his little finger and they’d come running. Me too. I used to run after him when I was little, which drove him absolutely crazy. He’d yell at me to get lost, call me a dork and a loser, and I’d just bask in all that fury. I finally had his attention. As much as he hated me, that’s how much I loved him. Except I hated him, too, hated him for being everything I knew I could never be, hated him for not loving me back. Shit,” Will said, feeling his eyes fill with unexpected tears.
Suzy reached for his hand. “I think you should tell him.”
Her touch sent shivers up his arm. “I think you should leave your husband.”
She smiled. Again, the corners of her lips turned down instead of up.
Smile, sucker,
he heard her say as strains of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” began emanating from deep inside her purse.
“Oh, God. That’s Dave.” She quickly extricated her cell phone from her canvas bag. “I have to take this.”
“Do you want me to wait in the kitchen?”
She shook her head, lowered the phone to her lap. “I want you to kiss me,” she said. “Like you did the other night.”
In the next second she was in his arms, his lips brushing tenderly against hers, afraid to apply any pressure to her bruised mouth.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I won’t break.”
Will kissed her again, this time harder, deeper. Once again, the opening bars of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” pushed their way between them.
Reluctantly, Suzy pulled out of Will’s arms, although he continued to hold on tight. She smiled her sad smile and flipped open the phone. “Hi,” she said.
“Where are you?” Will heard Dave demand. “What took you so long to answer your cell?”
“I’m just heading into Publix,” Suzy lied. “It took me a minute to find the phone.”
“You’re sure that’s where you are?”
Suzy’s eyes shot to the window, as if Dave might be standing there, staring inside. Will jumped to his feet, walked to the door, opened it, took several steps into the outside corridor, and returned shaking his head, assuring her no one was there.
“Of course I’m sure. I was thinking of making some chicken with Cumberland sauce for dinner, and we didn’t have any red currant jelly, so I—”
“I might be a little late coming home today,” he interrupted.
“Is there a problem?”
“Have dinner ready for seven o’clock.”
The phone went dead in her hands.
Suzy returned the phone to her purse. She sat very still for several seconds, her head down, her breath seemingly frozen in her lungs. When she looked up again, her eyes were clear, hinting at defiance. She looked at Will. “I have until seven o’clock,” she said.
THIRTEEN
“P
LEASE
,
TOM,” LAINEY WAS
saying, her hands in front of her chest as if she was trying to keep him at bay. “Don’t make a scene.”
“Who’s making a scene?” Tom asked, eyes sweeping the back of the salon as if there might be someone else present who was creating a disturbance. He glanced at the young man, whose hands were still full of lather. His black eyes were open so wide, they were threatening to overtake his forehead. “You must be Donatello. I’m Tom, Lainey’s husband.” He extended his hand.
The young man shook it warily, said nothing.
“This is Carlos,” Lainey explained. “He does shampoos. He doesn’t speak much English.”
“In that case,
vamanos,
Carlos,” Tom said dismissively.
Carlos looked to Lainey. “It’s okay,” she told him, nodding.
“What—I need his permission to talk to my wife?”
“What do you want, Tom?” Lainey asked, her voice low and radiating disdain, as Carlos disappeared around the curved wall to the front of the salon.
Her dark eyes were losing some of their fear, Tom realized, his fists clenching with disappointment. Who the hell did she think she was? He noted the wet hair plastered against her scalp like a bathing cap, accentuating the width of her nose. She was hardly a beauty, he thought, watching her push the hair away from her face and swipe at the soapy water running down her cheeks with the palm of her hand, as if aware of his silent assessment. What gave her the right, the
nerve,
to be acting so high and mighty, to think she was so much better than he was? “You know what I want,” he said.
“No, I don’t. I never have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t know what you want, and I’m tired of trying to figure it out.”
“You’re tired of trying to figure
what
out?”
“What you want,” Lainey snapped, obviously louder than she’d intended, her voice ricocheting off the walls and echoing throughout the shop. She lowered her chin, stared down at the narrow walnut planks of the floor. “Look, let’s not do this. I’m too tired to keep going around in circles.”
“You’re saying you’re tired of being married?”
“I’m tired of your attitude.”
“What’s my attitude?” Tom demanded.
“You use our home like it’s a hotel, somewhere you can visit whenever you don’t have somewhere better to go or something better to do. You have no respect for my time or my feelings. You don’t give a damn about what
I
want.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit.”
“I’m telling you it’s bullshit,” Tom said angrily.
“Okay. Call it whatever you want. I’m sick and tired of it.”
“So . . . what? You just leave?”
“I didn’t just leave.”
“I come home the other night, you’re not there, the kids aren’t there. What would you call it?”
“You’re missing the point.”
“What
is
the fucking point?”
“Please, Tom, can you keep your voice down?” Lainey looked anxiously toward the front of the salon. “Not everyone has to know our business.”
“Just the lawyers,” he said.
“What?”
“I know you’ve been talking to a lawyer, Lainey.”
“How do you know that?”
Tom noted the fear was back in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.
“Have you been following me?” she asked.
“You think I’m going to just let you take my kids away from me?”
“Nobody’s trying to take your kids away from you. Once things settle down, once you’ve moved into your own apartment—”
“My own apartment? What the hell are you talking about? I have a house. I’m not moving anywhere.”
“—and a settlement has been worked out,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “you’ll be able to see the kids.”
“I just told you I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t have a choice, Tom. You signed away your legal rights when my parents agreed to take on our mortgage.”
Tom shook his head. “I didn’t know what I was signing.”
“Then you might want to consult a lawyer of your own.”
“Oh, I might want to consult a lawyer of my own,” he mimicked. “Where am I supposed to get the money for that? Tell me that, bitch, since you seem to have an answer for everything.”
“Okay, Tom. That’s enough. I think you should leave.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“It’s obvious we aren’t going to settle anything here.”
“You think you’re entitled to a settlement?” he demanded, deliberately misinterpreting her remarks. “You think I’m gonna just hand you money for kicking me out of my own house?”
“I’m not asking for alimony,” Lainey said, a slight tremor rippling through her words.
“Well, aren’t you the generous one,” Tom sneered.
“Only child support.”
“Child support?” What the hell was she talking about? He barely made enough money to cover his own damn expenses. “With what?”
“A portion of your earnings. The courts will decide what’s fair.”
“None of this is fair, and you know it. I don’t care what the courts decide. You’re not getting a goddamn dime.”
“It’s not for me, Tom. It’s for your children, who you claim to love.”
“You’re saying I don’t?”
“I’m saying they have certain needs—”
“I’ll tell you what they need. They need their father,” he shouted.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before.”
A man peeked his way around the curved wall. His black hair was shaped into a high pompadour, and he was wearing a white T-shirt tucked inside tight black leather pants. “Is everything all right back here?” he asked.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Donatello. This is my salon,” the man said politely. Then less politely, “Who the fuck are
you
?”
“I’m the lady’s husband. We’d appreciate a little privacy.”
“Then perhaps you might consider lowering your voice.”
“Sorry about that, Donny boy,” Tom said. “We’ll try to keep it down.”
“I don’t think your wife wants to talk to you anymore,” Donatello said, looking to Lainey for confirmation.
She nodded.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” Donatello said.
“And I’m afraid I’m going to have to knock you on your fat little ass.”
With that, Donatello spun around on the heels of his black leather boots and returned to the front of the shop.
“Stupid faggot,” Tom muttered, turning back to Lainey, watching fresh resolve harden in her eyes.
“I want you to leave,” she said.
“And I want you to come home.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Look. I’m sorry. Okay?” Tom said, hating the whine in his voice. “I didn’t mean to create a scene. It’s just that you have no idea how frustrating this whole thing is for me.”
“Trust me. I understand exactly how frustrating it is.”
“You don’t understand a goddamn thing,” Tom snapped.
“Fine,” Lainey said.
“Fine,” he repeated. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You think you’re in the driver’s seat. That you can just order me around. That you can say, ‘Jump,’ and I’m gonna say, ‘How high?’”
“I think we haven’t been happy in a very long time.”
“Who hasn’t been happy?
I’ve
been happy.”
“Well, then, I guess that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“You’re telling me you haven’t been happy?”
Lainey looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “Where have you been the last couple of years, Tom?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ve been telling you I’m not happy till I’m blue in the face. It’s like talking to a brick wall.”
“All you ever fucking do is talk,” Tom said. “That, and complain. Nothing’s ever right. Nothing I do is ever good enough.”
“That’s because you never do anything!” Lainey shot back.
“And you’re so fucking perfect?”
“I never said I was perfect.”
“Oh, you’re a long way from perfect, sweetheart. I can tell you that. Take a look in the mirror if you want to see exactly how far from perfect you are.” He grabbed her elbow, spun her around, forced her face toward the wall of mirrors across from the sinks. “You think you’re some sort of prize catch? You think once you dump me, they’re gonna start lining up for you? In case you haven’t noticed, you look like shit. You still haven’t lost the baby weight, and Cody’s two fucking years old. And I’m supposed to want to come home? I’m supposed to want to spend time with you or take you out, show you off to my friends? Lose a few pounds, get your nose fixed and your boobs done, and maybe I’ll feel like spending more time at home.”
Tears filled Lainey’s eyes. Her cheeks reddened, as if she’d been slapped. “You know, I think I always knew you didn’t love me,” she said quietly.
“You got that right,” Tom said.
“But I don’t think I realized until right now how much you actually hate me.”
“Right again, sweetheart.”
Lainey took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping with the effort as she turned away from her reflection. “Then what are you doing here, Tom?”
“I want you and the kids to come home,” he said, as if this was the logical explanation.
“I’m sorry. We can’t do that.”
“So I don’t get any say at all?”
“I think you’ve said more than enough.”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.”
“I’d say you’re pretty much finished,” Donatello announced, returning to the back of the salon, although he maintained a comfortable distance between himself and Tom.
“Get lost, jerk-off.”
“I’ve notified the police. They’ll be here momentarily.”
Tom groaned. “Shit. You gotta be kidding me.”
“I recommend you leave before they get here.”
Tom spun toward Lainey. “I’m warning you, bitch. You’re not kicking me out of my own house. You’re not taking my kids away.”
Lainey said nothing.
“This isn’t over,” he said. Then he pushed past Donatello, knocking him against the curved wall as he fled the salon.
THEY’D BEEN LOCKED
in each other’s arms for the better part of an hour, talking, giggling, exchanging soft kisses and tentative caresses, like nervous teenagers afraid to proceed too quickly, when they heard footsteps running along the outside corridor. The footsteps came to an abrupt halt in front of their door. A loud banging followed immediately.
“Oh, no,” Suzy whispered, pulling out of Will’s arms and staring at the door in horror.
“Open up in there,” a voice demanded, followed by more banging.
“Tom?” Will said, jumping to his feet.
“Open the goddamn door!” More pounding. “Will, is that you? For shit’s sake, open the fucking door!”
Goddamn it, Will thought, signaling Suzy to hide in the bedroom. “I’ll get rid of him as fast as I can,” he said quietly, grabbing her as she was about to leave and kissing her again.
“Could you just kiss me for a while?” she’d asked, and he’d been happy to oblige. Hell, I could spend all day kissing her, he thought now, watching her disappear around the corner. What the hell was Tom doing here?
“Do you always come busting in here?” he asked, opening the door.
Tom’s arms were flailing about wildly in all directions at once. “Where’s Jeff?”
“He’s at the gym.”
“Shit. Of course he’s at the gym. Where else would he be? Shit,” he said again.
“Is there a problem?” Will asked reluctantly.
“Is Kristin home?” Tom looked toward the bedroom.
“She had some errands to run,” Will said quickly, prepared to throw himself between Tom and the bedroom should Tom take even one step in that direction.
“So, it’s just you. That’s what you’re trying to tell me.”
“I’m not trying to tell you anything.”
“Oh, man. Not you, too,” Tom said, groaning audibly. “I had enough of that bullshit today from Lainey.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lainey went to see a lawyer this morning.”
“I’m sorry,” Will said, although he couldn’t have cared less. He just wanted Tom out of the apartment so he could go back to kissing Suzy.
Tom plopped into the leather chair across from the sofa, stretched his long legs out in front of him as if he wasn’t going anywhere. He pointed toward the glass on the floor. “What are you drinking?”
“Water.”
“You got something stronger?”
“It’s a little early, isn’t it?”
“Who are you—my mother?”
“I think there’s some beer in the fridge.”
“Sounds good,” Tom said, without moving.
Will walked into the kitchen, thinking of Suzy in the bedroom. How long would she wait? How long before she lost her nerve and ran home to Dr. Dave? He opened the fridge door, found a bottle of Miller Light, opened it, and carried it back to the living room.
“What? No glass?” Tom said.
“Help yourself.”
Tom raised the bottle to his lips. “This’ll do.” He threw his head back, took a long sip. “That’s better. It’s been quite the morning.”
“Look, I’ve got things to do.”
“So who’s stopping you?”
Will sank down on the sofa, said nothing. Just finish your beer and get the hell out, his eyes told Tom’s.
“You know what that bitch said to me?” Tom asked. “She said I have to pay child support. She gets the kids, but I gotta pay to support them.”
“They’re your kids,” Will reminded him.
“I’ll rot in jail for the rest of my life before I pay her one fucking dime.”
You do that, Will said silently. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” he asked out loud.
“I’m quitting that motherfucking job. If Lainey thinks she’s gonna take half my paycheck, she’s got another think coming.”
“That’s kind of like cutting off your nose to spite your face, isn’t it?” Will said, then immediately wished he hadn’t.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you talking about—cutting off my nose to . . . what?”
“Cutting off your nose to spite your face,” Will repeated. “It’s something my mother used to say.”
“Yeah? Sounds like the Wicked Witch all right. That’s what Jeff and I used to call her, you know. The Wicked Witch of West Buffalo.”