“Chris?”
He clears his throat. “I went to fill the car up with gas. Then I ran into the office for a minute.”
Chris watches as I sit down on the bed and carefully pull the stockings on. I slip my pump inside one of them. I take my dress off its padded hanger and step into it. It’s knee length, fitted, and black, with a bit of shimmer. It hangs open as I step into my shoes and locate my earrings. Chris walks across the room and stands behind me. He zips me up, slowly, and rests his hands on my shoulders. “You’ll be cold,” he says, his voice husky.
His touch stirs something inside of me, and suddenly I can’t breathe. “I’ll wear a wrap.”
His hands slide down my shoulders, along the bare skin of my arms where they linger. He finally steps back. “I’ll let you finish getting ready.”
“It won’t take long.” Chris retreats and I grab my evening bag and spritz myself with perfume. I pull the wrap off the hanger and drape it around my shoulders. Downstairs, Chris and I shut off lights and lock the door. In the garage he holds the car door open for me and we go.
• • •
The evening begins with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres outside the banquet room of the Westin Crown Center in Kansas City. Chris brings me a flute of champagne and then fills a small plate of food for us to share; in his other hand he swirls whiskey around in his glass, the ice clinking. I scan the crowd, admiring the fancy dresses. Soon, the doors to the banquet room open and we make our way inside, finding the place cards with our names at a table elegantly set for eight.
A tall, gray-haired man makes his way toward us and Chris leans down and whispers in my ear, “This is Jim, my boss.”
Jim beams when he reaches us and we both stand. He shakes Chris’s hand. Turning to me, he introduces himself and then says, “You must be Claire. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Perhaps it’s just banter, but Jim’s heard my name enough to remember it, and his expression is sincere. It never occurred to me that Chris might talk about his family at work. There’s no hiding the warmth that emanates from Jim as he shakes my hand. “Your husband has become an invaluable member of my team. We’re lucky to have him.”
Jim’s sentiments are shared by others, and throughout the evening, after the meal is served and the plates have been cleared away, several of Chris’s coworkers congratulate him on his latest accomplishments. His direct reports flatter him, and I marvel at the posturing going on around me. This necessary hierarchy, and the relentless pursuit of the next rung on the corporate ladder, never fails to both amaze and exhaust me. It has the opposite effect on Chris. He draws incredible energy from it, and I can see why its absence has had such a negative effect on him. The golden boy radiates with happiness; it’s Chris’s night.
There’s a dais near the front of the room, complete with a microphone stand. Chris does not receive an individual acknowledgment, but he’s asked to rise when his team is honored. I clap loudly and smile for my husband. When they’re done handing out the awards, a DJ begins playing a variety of music suitable for this kind of occasion. There are plenty of slow songs: Frank Sinatra, Etta James. Michael Bublé for a more modern selection.
“Do you want another glass of champagne?” Chris asks.
“No thanks.”
“Then let’s dance,” he says. He leads me by the hand and we join the swirling couples on the dance floor. Chris clasps my left hand with his right and rests his other hand on my waist. We move to the music; he seems happy, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen him this way. He looks into my eyes and says, “You look stunning tonight. You always do.” He puts both arms around my waist and pulls me closer, and I rest my head on his shoulder. When the music ends we walk back to the table. The evening is winding down and the crowd in the banquet room is starting to disperse. “Are you ready to go?” Chris asks.
“Yes.”
He holds my hand as we walk outside and wait for the valet to bring the car. He used to hold it all the time, but he stopped holding it during the months he was out of work. Maybe because we didn’t go many places together or maybe because we just didn’t feel all that loving toward each other. But I’ve always loved the feel of his hand holding mine. I still do.
My wrap is worthless against the freezing temperature, and my feet are like blocks of ice. Chris notices my shivering and takes off his tuxedo jacket and places it gently over my shoulders. “Put your arms in.” I do as he says. He stands with his arm around my shoulders, impervious to the chill in his white dress shirt. My eyes are drawn to his wrist, and the onyx cuff links I gave him for our tenth wedding anniversary.
On the way home I say, “Your boss seems really nice.”
Chris turns up the heat another notch and the warm air blows, filling the interior. “He’s a giant asshole. You saw the good side, but believe me, I’ve seen the bad. It’s unsettling. I’m just waiting for him to turn on me the minute I make a single misstep, which is why I don’t.”
“Seriously?” I try to envision Jim without a smile on his face. His tone harsh instead of welcoming. He had me snowed, that’s for sure.
“Oh, yeah. It’s like watching an anger bomb detonate.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
Chris shrugs slightly, hands firmly on the wheel. “What difference would it have made? I can’t do anything about it.”
“Because I would have known what was going on. You would have had my sympathy, Chris. All this time, I’ve thought that the job was going so well, and that you loved it.” That the sacrifices our family made were worth something.
“I should never have taken this job, but at the time I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t think they have any intention of bringing me in from the field. They know that in this economy there aren’t many of us who can afford to make waves. I’ve been networking again, surfing job sites late at night in my hotel room. So far nothing has come up. There just isn’t much out there.”
Why, why couldn’t he talk to me like this before?
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “We’ll get by.”
“You keep saying that, Claire, and I appreciate it. But it isn’t okay.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look over at me. “I miss my family. I miss you.”
His words warm me like nothing else can. “Try and hold on a little longer. It’ll all work out eventually.” I have no idea if it will, but I don’t know what else to say.
At home, Chris locks up and sets the alarm. I leave my phone tucked inside my evening bag and for the first time in a long time, Chris doesn’t disappear into the office. Instead, he lets Tucker out and tells me he’ll be up in a minute. In our bedroom, I put on my warmest pajamas in an attempt to offset the lingering chill, then remove the elaborate makeup and brush my teeth. I burrow into the bed feeling drowsy, the warmth and softness lulling me into a state of relaxation.
Chris makes his way upstairs. He doesn’t turn on the lights but the water runs and the toilet flushes in the master bathroom. Silently, he pulls back the covers and slides between the sheets. Before I drift off completely I’m aware of a shifting of weight, of movement that encircles me. I teeter at the precipice between wakefulness and sleep, and then I fall, wrapped tightly in the arms of my husband.
46
chris
I close my eyes and hold Claire in my arms, replaying the events of the evening in my mind. The first image I revisit is Claire standing naked in our bedroom. Even the antidepressants and their unwelcome side effects couldn’t dampen the way I felt when I walked into the room. To see her standing there like that took my breath away.
I watched her turn heads tonight, and I realized that I’ve been so wrapped up in my own life I never once thought about what she’d do if another man hit on her. I’m thinking about it now, and I don’t like it.
I’m worried about what will happen if I stop taking the antidepress
ants. I don’t know if I can handle the pressure. Maybe they’re just a crutch, and I don’t really need them anymore. Then instead of holding my wife I could make love to her.
If I’m wrong, I might lose everything I’ve gained.
But if I’m right, I might be able to have it all.
47
claire
I’m driving home after dropping off Josh and Jordan at their respective after-school activities when my cell phone rings. A quick glance at the screen brings a smile to my face. “Hey,” I say when I answer. “I was just thinking about you.”
“One of my fellow officers just pulled over a friend of yours,” Daniel says. “The one who drinks a lot. Julia.”
“What?” I’m confused about how Daniel knows this information. “Where?”
“A couple of miles from your neighborhood. A neighbor noticed her swerving and called the police. She failed the field sobriety test and the Breathalyzer. Her kids are in the car.”
Oh, Jesus.
Daniel continues. “She tried to talk him out of arresting her by giving him my name. She said I was ‘Claire’s friend.’”
“Where is she now?” I ask.
“She’s still there. The officer is waiting to take her in because he needs someone to come get the kids. How far away are you?”
I give him my location and he tells me where Julia is.
“How long will it take you to get there?”
“Less than ten minutes.”
Daniel stays on the line until I reach the flashing lights and the two cars parked on the shoulder of the road. It’s heavily traveled and the cars in front of me slow to see what’s going on. I pull up behind the police car.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Just take the kids home with you. Call her husband and tell him he’ll need to post bail. Are you okay, Claire? Can you handle this? I can come meet you if you need help.”
My stomach does an odd flip. I want no part of this drama I’ve been unwillingly pulled into, but I think of Julia’s girls and how scared and confused they must be. “No. I’m fine. I’ll take care of it. I’ll call you later,” I tell Daniel and disconnect the call. I get out of the car and the officer approaches me. Julia is in the back of the police car but her girls are still in the backseat of her minivan.
“Hi. Thanks for coming. I’m Officer Hill.”
“Claire Canton.” I shake his proffered hand. “Can I speak to the girls first?”
“Yes. That’s a good idea.”
I open the door to the minivan and stick my head inside, a comforting smile on my face. The girls’ frightened expressions tug at my heartstrings, so I smile warmly and speak in a soothing voice.
“Everything’s okay. The police are here to make sure everyone drives safely and they just want to talk to your mom for a minute, okay?”
They nod silently, unsure of how to respond. Of course they don’t know what to say. They’re children.
“Stay in your seats. I’ll be right back.”
Tears run down five-year-old Hillary’s face as she nods solemnly. Three-year-old Beth remains blissfully clueless.
I approach the police car and the officer opens the door so I can slide in beside Julia. Her hair hangs in her eyes and mascara streaks her cheeks. The smell of alcohol fills the car. She won’t even look at me. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket.
“Where would Justin be right now? Is he on his way home?”
Suddenly, I have her attention. Her head snaps up and she begs silently, eyes blazing, imploring me not to make the call. I wait patiently. This ends now. Her shoulders slump in defeat.
“He’s probably with his girlfriend,” she says, slurring a bit. But she mostly sounds sad.
Justin has a girlfriend? And Julia knows about this?
I don’t even know what to say about that, but I have more pressing things to worry about. I scroll through my contacts and call Justin. When he answers I begin to speak.
“It’s Claire. Julia got pulled over for drunk driving. I have a friend on the police force and he called me. I’m with her now.”
Justin inhales sharply and there’s a slight pause before he says, “Fuck.” He exhales and asks, “What now?”
“The officer is going to arrest her.” Beside me, Julia starts crying. “Listen to me, Justin. Your daughters were with her. They were sitting in the backseat while your wife swerved her way out of our neighborhood. Check Julia into rehab immediately and pray they don’t slap her with child endangerment.”
Julia cries harder and a figurative thud echoes through the car as she hits rock bottom.
Of course he agrees.
I tell him I’ll drive the girls home and wait for him there.
“I’ll head down to the station,” he says. “Tell Julia I’m on my way.”
“Okay.”
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
The officer helps me install Beth and Hillary’s car and booster seats in my SUV and we strap the girls in. I’m grateful that they don’t really know what’s going on and that the memory will fade by the time they’re old enough to realize what happened. At least I hope it will. After I shut the door I turn to Officer Hill and say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says.
I lean back in the open door of the squad car. “I’m going to take the girls to my house. I’ll make them dinner and they can play with Josh and Jordan when they get home.”
Julia wipes her eyes and nods.
“It’ll be okay,” I say, giving her hand a quick squeeze.
Silence fills the car on our way home, and my mood feels as gray as the sky on this blustery March day. Spring seems a lifetime away. I turn up the heat so the girls won’t be cold. Maybe I should open a dialogue with them, comfort them somehow with words, but then I decide that the less talking I do, the better. The radio plays softly and the minutes pass like hours.
At home, I get out some coloring books and crayons and ask the girls if they want a snack.
“When is my mom coming back?” Hillary asks.
“Your dad’s going to pick her up and they’ll both come here to get you in a little while.” I smile and try my best to add some normalcy to the situation.
Later, when Josh and Jordan are home and all four children have eaten dinner, I put in a DVD and they huddle on the couch in the family room, engrossed in the film. I step into the kitchen and call Daniel.
“Hi,” I say when he answers.
“Hey. How are you?” I can picture him sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table. Smiling.
“I’m tired. That was a bit draining.”
“I knew it would be,” he says. “How are the kids?”
“They’re doing okay.”
“I made a call. Julia’s been processed and released. They’ll probably be there soon.”
“Thanks.”
“Think she’ll get the help she needs?”
“I hope so. I’m hoping her husband will step up a little. But guess what—she told me he has a girlfriend!”
“What?”
“Yeah. So not only is he unfaithful to her, she knows about it.” I can’t condone her coping method, but she has my sympathy for her marital situation.
“Wow,” Daniel says. “That’s too bad.”
A car door slams outside. “Listen. I think they’re here. I have to go.”
“I’ll call you later,” Daniel says.
I open the front door and watch as Justin leads Julia up the sidewalk, his arm around her. After several hours, she seems more sober. They come inside and it brings tears to my eyes when Julia softly calls out, “Girls?” They go to her, and she pulls them close, one arm thrown over each of them. They don’t understand their mother’s n
eed for comfort, but they give it anyway, unconditionally. Justin stands nearby, watching. He looks me in the eye and he doesn’t have to utter a word for me to know he’s grateful. Whatever he’s planning to say to Julia, the things he needs to say, can wait until tomorrow. But he will say them. Of this I am fairly certain.
He loves his girls and deep down I hope that he still loves Julia.
48
claire
Jordan has been invited to a slumber party, to celebrate a classmate’s birthday. We carefully pack her overnight bag making sure to include her stuffed kitty and her pajamas. Her excitement knows no bounds, and she talks a mile a minute about the pizza they’re going to eat and the movie they’re going to see.
“I’ll have my phone with me at all times, so if you need me, just call,” I say, mostly to reassure myself.
“I won’t need you,” she says. She won’t either, this self-assured social butterfly who enjoys the company of her friends almost as much as her own family. Maybe more.
“Okay. But you know where to find me if you change your mind.”
Josh and I are on our way home from dropping Jordan off when my phone rings.
“Does Josh want to go to the speedway with Skip and Travis tonight? It’s the opening event of the season.”
I know the answer to that without asking, but I pull the phone away from my ear and say, “Skip and Travis are going to watch the car races. Want to go with them?”
“Yes!”
I put the phone back to my ear. “I’m assuming you heard that,” I say, laughing.
“Loud and clear. Skip will pick him up in an hour. Travis wants Josh to sleep over. Okay with you?”
“Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine,” Elisa says.
Daniel’s working tonight. After Josh leaves with Skip and Travis I putter around the house, straightening up and doing a couple of loads of laundry. Restless, I turn on some music and flip through a magazine. My phone rings and I smile because I was hoping that he’d call.