Diary of an Alcoholic Housewife (5 page)

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” I asked.

Audrey shrugged. “Are you ever sure of anything?”

“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “People change their minds all the time.”

The waiter placed a three-tiered tray of finger sandwiches and scones on our table. “I’m sure these are kosher,” Audrey said, reaching over a ham sandwich and grabbing an egg salad.

“Restaurants use Kraft mayonnaise and Kraft is kosher.” Hope rolled her eyes.

We left the Drake, and Audrey said she wanted to go to Victoria’s Secret. “I need something sexy for my wedding night.”

“Aren’t there rules against that sort of thing?” Hope asked. Audrey ignored her and took a red corset into a dressing room.

I whispered to Hope, “I think there are rules against fucking your fiancé before you get married, too.” Hope snickered. Hope and I’d caught a glimpse of Nehemiah lying in Audrey’s bed through a cracked door that morning when we picked her up.

Audrey poked her head out of the dressing room door. “Come here and tell me what you think?”

“Sexy,” I said. “It pushes up your boobs and cinches your waist just right. Buy it.”

Audrey’s cell phone rang. “I can’t meet you at the jeweler’s; I’m with my friends. Uh-huh, uh-huh, okay.” She hung up and threw the phone in her purse. “I have to meet Nehemiah and take a final look at our wedding bands. It won’t take long. I’ll meet you guys in an hour. Sorry.”

“Nehemiah’s an ass,” Hope whispered to me.

Audrey grabbed a matching garter belt, stockings, and robe and threw them on the counter with the corset. “I’ll take these.”

[Tuesday, December 24]

I drank tonight. I don’t really know why, I just felt like it. I wasn’t craving alcohol or anything. Having a martini just popped into my head and I went for it.

Charlie, the kids, and I went to church for the Christmas Eve service. We were right on time, which meant we were late and the sanctuary was already packed. People were being seated on folding chairs in the narthex and we quickly sat on four chairs before the narthex filled and people began sitting in the hallway. I tried to peek over the heads in front of me at the pageantry in the sanctuary, but I could see nothing through the window separating the narthex from the service. Max and Van began whining that they were bored and wanted to go. I visualized a martini glass in my hand, minuscule ice chips floating on the surface, and me sipping, the icy burn on my tongue.

As soon as we got home, I chucked my coat, checked the dinner I’d put in the oven before going to church, and grabbed my martini shaker. Charlie walked into the kitchen. “I’m having a martini,” I said defiantly. “You want one?” Charlie laughed. “Yeah,” he said. We each had two martinis and split half a bottle of wine. I checked the basement for more wine but there wasn’t any.

[Wednesday, December 25]

I woke up without a hangover, which was nice. I took pictures of the kids opening their Christmas presents and decided that last night’s little drinking episode was just a slip. Today I was back to no drinking. December 25 would be a good sobriety date. What a gift to Jesus.

We spent the afternoon at Charlie’s brother’s house and when we walked in, his brother, Chris, offered us eggnog. What the hell, it was Christmas. I finished the eggnog and had a glass of wine. What the hell, I’d already consumed alcohol. Charlie’s sister, Liz, gave us a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. As soon as we got home I stuck it in the freezer, and when it was properly chilled, Charlie and I killed it. I’ll give up drinking tomorrow.

[Thursday, December 26]

We celebrated a belated Christmas with my parents. Every year since Charlie and I began dating, we’ve had Christmas Eve with my family, Christmas Day with his family, and our little family gets lost in the shuffle. I wanted my family to have its own tradition this year. I wanted us to go to church on Christmas Eve (that didn’t work out so well) and have a cozy dinner afterward. I mentioned this to my mother in early December and she suggested getting together tonight instead of Christmas Eve.

Charlie and I loaded up the car with food and presents and we hit the highway. As we neared my parents’ exit, I started thinking about the oversized bottle of Woodbridge chardonnay my sister would probably bring. My father drank hard liquor and beer, so if my sister and I wanted wine, we had to bring it. My mother, a devout Seventh-Day Adventist, never drank. I figured since I’d been drinking over Christmas and, technically, we were still celebrating Christmas, I should get some wine. I told Charlie to stop at the liquor store as we exited the highway. I didn’t want my last glass of wine to be Woodbridge. I walked into the store and bought two nice bottles of Oregon pinot noir. When I got in the car, I placed them at my feet. We drove off and a radio reporter announced that a woman had smashed up her car while driving her family home after a Christmas party yesterday. Her two children were dead. She and her husband were in the hospital. High levels of alcohol had been detected in both of their bloodstreams. I glanced at Charlie. He looked at me and winced. I turned and looked out the window.

My mother greeted us at the door. “I didn’t like being alone on Christmas Eve at all,” she blurted. “I never want to do this again.”

My father appeared at the door with a manhattan in his hand. He gave me a hug and a kiss. “You want a martini?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

I drank a stiff martini, then had another. I probably drank more than one bottle of pinot noir before the night was over, too. On the way back home I stared out the window at the Christmas lights as Charlie drove. I thought about the woman who’d crashed her car. I pictured her lying in the hospital bed wishing her children were alive and she was dead.

[Friday, December 27]

I went to a meeting after having dinner with my family. I pulled into a church parking lot and two guys were standing by the door smoking.

“You here for the meeting?” I asked them.

“Yep,” one of them answered.

“Could you tell me where it is?”

“Downstairs,” the guy answered. He tossed his cigarette on the pavement and squashed it with his boot. “You can follow me.”

We made our way down to a basement utility room where nine men were sitting around a table. I sat down and smiled. A man sitting at the head of the table, the chairman, asked if it was anyone’s first time here. I raised my hand and introduced myself, feeling hugely uncomfortable. A guy nicknamed Red began speaking.

“I used to perceive being humble as being weak,” Red began. “But now I see it as a strength. All the false bravado I had pushing my will on others, coercing them to do what I wanted, making people miserable until I got my way. I was a bully. I fooled myself into thinking I was powerful when it would have taken strength to stand back and not be a jerk. It takes guts to admit you don’t have power over people.” Hmm.

[Sunday, December 29]

Audrey got married today. I wasn’t sure how the not-drinking thing was going to go since weddings and booze go hand in hand, but being surrounded by Orthodox Jews made it a lot easier.

Charlie was not looking forward to Audrey’s wedding at all. He knew we weren’t going to be able to sit together during the ceremony or dinner. He knew I would be eating and dancing with the women, and he’d be eating and dancing with the men.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Charlie said when I told him how things were going to go. “I don’t have to go, do I?”

“Hope and Paul will be there,” I said. “You and Paul can dance together.”

Charlie stared daggers at me.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.”

“No it won’t.”

Audrey had booked an expensive Orthodox musician who played blues and klezmer and had performed at Carnegie Hall.

“Why spend all that money on a band when you can’t dance?” I’d asked her when she told me I couldn’t eat or dance with Charlie.

“The men dance together and the women dance together,” she said. “‘Fiddler on the Roof’ kind of stuff.”

“Why can’t husbands and wives dance together?”

“The men might get excited seeing women they’re not married to swinging their hips.”

“Oh.”

“Make sure you wear a dress or a skirt that hits no higher than the knee,” Audrey said. “And no spaghetti straps or low necklines. Wear something with long sleeves. And don’t hug or kiss my dad or brothers. Women don’t touch men they’re not married to.”

I wondered if Audrey and Nehemiah were supposed to have sex through a hole in the sheet tonight.

Charlie and I arrived at Audrey’s shul and a young girl hung up our coats. We moved toward the appetizer tables and Charlie grabbed my arm. “Is that Audrey’s husband-to-be?” he asked, twitching his head toward a large, overweight black man wearing a black hat and black suit. He was surrounded by a bunch of white guys wearing the same thing.

“Gotta be,” I said. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him through Audrey’s cracked bedroom door. “He’s the only black Jew here.”

Charlie snickered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Roger, Audrey’s brother. He was planting his walker and swinging his hips and legs forward and moving in my direction. He pulled up next to me, sweating profusely. “Roger!” I said and gave him a big hug and kiss, ignoring Audrey’s warning. I hadn’t seen Roger since his motorcycle accident several months ago. Roger and I had gone to Sturgis, South Dakota, for bike week eleven years ago. We’d ridden out with the Chicago Hog Chapter, partied with thousands of bikers, saw ZZ Top, and had a blast. Earlier this year, Roger was riding along a canyon road in Arizona when he lost control of his bike, skidded toward the edge of a cliff, and a van ran him over, breaking three of his vertebrae.

“You look good,” I told him.

“I been doin’ a lot of physical therapy,” Roger said. “They say there’s a chance I could walk again.”

“I bet you will,” I said. “You already are.” “Hey you guys,” Hope said, walking over with Paul. “Where’s Audrey?”

“In a room back there,” Roger said, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder.

Hope and I grabbed a few appetizers and headed in that direction. The room was packed with women. We looked around and caught sight of Audrey sitting on a throne-like chair surrounded by women.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Everyone’s giving Audrey their good wishes,” Hope said.

We made our way through a sea of wigs—married Orthodox women have to hide their hair from men they’re not married to—and reached Audrey. She beamed when she saw us and got up and hugged us.

“We’re here to give you our good wishes,” I said.

“Make ’em great,” Audrey said. “I have God’s ear now. He’s listening.”

“I wish you and your family good health, gobs of money, and lots and lots of happiness,” I said. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Audrey said, tears welling up in her eyes.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, looking sick to her stomach but trying to appear happy.

“Well,” I said, squeezing Audrey’s hand. “A lot of women are lined up to see you.” I gave her a peck on the cheek. “Love ya,” I said and stepped aside so Hope could move in.

Hope and I left the room and returned to the virtually female-free hallway. We nibbled at appetizers, and a tall, beefy Orthodox guy lumbered over. “You two went to high school with Audrey,” he said with a smirk. “What was she like?” The schmuck wanted dirt.

“Audrey was the kindest, most generous person I knew in high school,” I said. “She still is. Nehemiah’s lucky.”

The schmuck’s smile disappeared. Hope and I walked away and found Charlie and Paul. Minutes later, we were directed into the synagogue. Hope and I took seats on one side of the room; Paul and Charlie took seats on the other.

The wedding ceremony was beautiful. Audrey looked gorgeous. As we left the synagogue and headed for the banquet hall, I scanned the crowd for Charlie. He caught my eye, held up his wrist, and tapped his watch. I smiled and nodded. Hope and I found our table and sat down. I got chatty with a woman who had a house full of kids and an unemployed husband. A young girl set a couple of bottles of kosher wine on the table, and I scanned the unfamiliar labels wondering if they were any good.

“How’s the wine?” I asked Hope.

“Good and sweet,” she said. “Want some?”

“Nope,” I said, glad it was probably syrupy swill. “I quit drinking.”

Hope raised an eyebrow. She knew I’d tried to quit drinking eight years ago.

We finished dinner and the music began. The band was awesome. Before long, most of the women were dancing, and we could hear the men whooping it up behind the screen that separated us from them. Both men and women could see the band on stage. A curtained divider held up by metal poles in the middle of the floor began at the edge of the stage and ran the length of the room to the back doors.

“Look,” Hope said. She and I were two links in a long chain of women holding hands and dancing around Audrey. Hope jutted her chin toward the top of the screen. Flames were shooting over the top of the divider. A few women were standing at the end of the screen near the stage and peeking around it and watching the men.

“Come on,” Hope said yanking me loose from the chain and pulling me toward the end of the screen. Bands of circle-dancing men kicked their legs wildly as their black hats burned like torches.

“Oh my God, have you seen this before?” I asked.

“Never,” said Hope.

“Won’t their hair catch fire?”

“I would think so,” she said.

Another man touched a cigarette lighter to his hat and, whoosh, flames shot up three feet. “How do they do that?” I muttered.

Hope and I watched in amazement before giving up our spots so other women could see and rejoined the chain of women dancing around Audrey.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I told Hope.

Hope and I broke loose and walked out into the hallway. A large pile of black hats had been dumped against a wall. Some of the hats were upside down, their domes lined with aluminum foil. A mound of rubbing alcohol bottles was piled next to the hats. I elbowed Hope.

“I wonder if some Orthodox dude is going home tonight without a beard,” I said. We giggled. On our way out of the bathroom, Charlie grabbed my arm.