Good Christian Bitches (7 page)

“How is he doing?” Sharon asked. “Still single?”

“He’s in jail in Costa Rica, actually,” Darlene said in an even voice, “for drug smuggling. And the only visitation he gets is through a pane of glass. So unless you want to talk to him on a telephone with that glass between the two of you, you may want to find a different man, precious.”

“Touché,” Sharon conceded.

“That’s all that remains of her French major at SMU,” Heather cracked.

“That was uncalled for!”

“Well, girls,” Darlene said, breaking up the squabble, “I think the two of you have an excellent idea. Keep her busy enough with the Ball, and she won’t have time for men. I’ve never let my philanthropic endeavors interfere with the pursuit of my romantic life, but I might be a little bit different.”

“Oh, I think we’d all have to agree,” Sharon said, grinning, “you’re a little bit different, all right.”

Darlene stood and nodded humbly toward her guests, pressing her palms together in a display of perfect piety. “You must permit me to make a few phone calls,” she said. Heather and Sharon took their cue and stood to go. “I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I am able to arrange,” Darlene continued. “I find the idea very appealing. A threat to one woman is a threat to all of us. I like Amanda, but she’s got to be neutralized, and what better way than by being Chair of the Ball? And it’s not like anybody else is dying to do it, right?”

The three women shared a conspiratorial laugh.

“Roland, see these ladies to the door,” Darlene commanded, gesticulating with such grandiose vigor that she smacked him soundly on the chest as he approached. Roland grimaced. Darlene, completely unaware, turned to him with a devilish smile. “And then draw my bath, will you?”

She gave Sharon and Heather a knowing wink.

Sharon and Heather winked back, and Roland saw them out. On the doorstep once again, Heather turned to Sharon. “I think we’ve solved our problem.”

“I don’t know.” Sharon seemed dubious. “I think we may be creating more problems than we’re solving.” She paused, then spoke in a whisper. “You think she’s really sleeping with her manservant, or butler, or whatever you call him?”

Heather flashed her a wicked grin. “Um . . . wouldn’t you?”

A
manda was sitting in the guest room of her mother’s home around nine forty-five, watching an old Humphrey Bogart movie but not really paying attention to it, when her mother finally came back from the restaurant. Amanda had had a tough time getting Will to bed—he had let loose with a long string of angry objections to the move back to Dallas, the divorce, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see his father quite as often. Amanda’s heart was broken for her children, and they remained her biggest concern.

Eventually, she had gleaned from her son’s angry monologue that there was a girl in the middle of this, some little surfer girl Will had become very smitten with, and an additional source of the boy’s anger was the fact that he had been cut off from her. It’s amazing how quickly a relationship can seem like oxygen, Amanda thought as she listened to her son, and it was just as amazing how quickly you could suffocate on the CO
₂
a bad relationship produced.

“Are you still up?” Elizabeth asked as she came in.

“Barely,” Amanda admitted. “How was my date?”

“A no-show, just like you,” Elizabeth replied, glancing at the screen. “He’s no Humphrey Bogart, I’ll tell you that.”

“He didn’t show?” Amanda asked, surprised. She sat up a bit on the chaise longue.

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Elizabeth answered, sinking down into the other chaise and watching the screen. “Neither of you showed up for your first date. You guys think alike, so I guess it’s a pretty good sign you’re made for each other.”

Amanda thought for a moment. “How could you be sure that he never came if you don’t know who you were looking for?”

“I might not have known who I was looking for,” Elizabeth reasoned, “but I sure knew
what
I was looking for. Single white male, forty to sixty years of age, affluent by the look of his clothes, positioned at a discreet angle to the front door so that he could see who was or was not coming into the restaurant.”

“Sounds like half the men in Dallas on a Saturday night,” Amanda noted with a grin.

Her mother thought about that for a moment and nodded. “Good point. A lotta guys out there lookin’ for somethin’, but I don’t think it’s love.”

They shared a laugh, the first break in the tension between the two women since Amanda had come home two days earlier.

“I know I’ve been kind of mean to you,” Elizabeth said.

Amanda sat up a little straighter. “What are you talking about?”

“When I was sitting in the restaurant . . .” Elizabeth began. “Actually, I need to be very frank with you. I had a little bit of time to think. And a couple glasses of wine to help me think. And I realized I’ve been furious with you and haven’t masked it very well, ever since you came home.”

“There’s a shocker,” Amanda replied sarcastically. “I’ve been thinking, what did I do to deserve this?”

“You didn’t do anything. It’s me. I haven’t been angry at you. I’ve been angry at myself.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?” The Bogart movie went into commercials, so Amanda hit the mute button.

“Your husband did the same stuff mine did. I can’t even believe I’m talking to you like this. My own daughter.”

Amanda waited. This was a level of openness from her mother she had never seen before.

“Well, we’re all adults here,” Elizabeth went on. “My husband had the same wandering eye Bill does. But I tolerated it. And I really hated myself for it. It just seemed like the deal that a lot of us made back then. You marry a guy, and he provides you with this great lifestyle. Which I already had, but still. I guess you can never have enough.

“And then what does he do? He figures he can mess around with any girl, or all the girls he wants, because he’s earned the right. And the more money he makes, the bigger his right to go screw anyone and anything. Single women, married women, airline stewardesses, secretaries, babysitters or nannies, knotholes in elm trees, whatever. You know what I’m saying?”

Amanda nodded slowly.

“It’s disgusting, when you think about it,” Elizabeth continued. “I mean, it’s not quite prostitution on our part—okay, on my part—because I’m not providing sex for money. It’s kind of reverse prostitution—he’s providing money so that he can go off and have sex with whoever he wants, whenever he wants. I never thought about it that way, but that’s what it comes down to. It’s what my mother always told me. Never leave a provider.”

“I guess that’s kind of how it is,” Amanda agreed. She didn’t know what was more surprising to her—the fact that her mother was being so open with her, or the fact that her mother was making so much sense. Both were new experiences for her.

“Mom, I always kind of knew Dad was . . . well, not exactly faithful to you. Let’s just say I always knew Daddy was ‘a hard dog to keep under the porch,’ as the old saying goes. But I never thought I’d marry the same kind of man; although, Bill is far worse than Daddy ever was . . . At least I hope Daddy wasn’t as bad.”

“It’s a shame,” Elizabeth said. “But it seems like too many women in Hillside Park tolerate it at some point in their marriages. I mean, I know there are a lot of husbands who are faithful, don’t get me wrong, but maybe those guys are faithful because they’re just not that interested in sex. I know there’s a difference in surviving an affair and saving your marriage, which I’m all for and think you should try to do, but that’s completely different from what I’m talking about. Of course, there are some men who really can walk the line. I’ve just never known many of them. Or known many women married to them. It’s just . . . endemic.”

“Endemic?” Amanda repeated, surprised. She’d never heard her mother use that word before.

“I’m not as dumb as I let on to be,” Elizabeth said. “I like it when people underestimate me. I can get away with a little more that way. I guess that’s how I’ve gone through life. But I think I really underestimated myself. I think I deserved more than a man who basically cheated on me my entire life. But it’s not something I felt like I could ever afford to let myself think about.

“It’s just one of those thoughts that comes into your head and then you do everything you can to think of something else. And then you move back home, because you won’t accept that same life with Bill that I had accepted with Ed, well, it just did me in. It just got me thinking. And then all of a sudden here comes Mr. Black Mercedes and it doesn’t even dawn on you to go out and see who it is, even just for sport. I mean, it would have been the perfect opportunity for you to just do something—have a fling, take a weekend in Mexico with him—”

Amanda’s eyebrows went up. This was definitely a level of intimacy she had never experienced with her mother, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was comfortable with it. But here it was, so she just had to deal with it. “Or maybe God was putting him in your life so that you wouldn’t be another forty-something, lonely divorcée, chasing after what available men there are here in Hillside Park like the rest of them. At least I had the dignity to get out of the game when Ed died. But I tell you, there’s no dignity in the way these women chase these men or compromise themselves to maintain a certain lifestyle. Believe me, your dignity is something you just might need later.

“And the men know it, and that’s why they feel no need to make a true commitment. You didn’t do that. You wouldn’t even go to the restaurant and see who it was. And I really believe you’re not even going to keep that car. Am I right?”

“You’re right,” Amanda said softly. She was amazed—her mother was actually honoring her for a choice she had made. That was something different. On the other hand, maybe she had grown up a little bit out in California, away from the stifling confines of Hillside Park. Maybe her choices were a little more honorable than they might have been in the past, when she had done exactly as she pleased, with whom she pleased, when she pleased—which is why her relationship with her mother had never been that great to begin with.

“I just think what you did tonight . . .” Elizabeth said, leaning slightly toward Amanda, just enough that Amanda could smell the alcohol on her mother’s breath. “I thought it was really cool. You’re tough as a boot, kiddo. And you quitting Bill because of the way he was sleeping around on you? I wish I’d have had the courage to do what you’ve done when I was your age. I don’t know what we would have done as a family, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered, because your father was away so much anyway. But at least I wouldn’t have been putting up with all that dishonesty and deceit, playing that charade of the perfect Hillside Park family, knowing that that fool husband of mine was doing some stewardess in Barcelona or Houston or wherever the hell he was.”

“Mom,” Amanda said gently, a bit embarrassed for her mother by now, “don’t you think maybe you ought to get to bed?”

Her mother thought for a moment.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” she began, and Amanda braced herself—her mother had been telling her what she was thinking for the last ten minutes, and it was more honesty than the two of them had shared in the last twenty years. It was almost more than Amanda could bear.

“I believe he was sitting in his own car, the whole time, waiting to see if you would show up. Because anybody who’s got the kind of money—no, that’s not true. Tons of men who have that same kind of money wouldn’t think twice about plopping themselves down at the bar at Al’s, waiting to see what the selection of ladies will be on the menu this evening. So that’s not what he did. He was too cool for that.

“Anybody who drops off a hundred-thousand-dollar car—I don’t even know how much it costs. Two hundred thousand? Three hundred thousand? I’m old-school. It’s hard to imagine anybody paying that much money for a car. But still. It was an incredible gesture on his part to give you the car, and it was even more impressive that he didn’t sit in plain view in the restaurant, flirting with all the other women in the bar until you came in, like many men in this town would have done.”

“Mom,” Amanda said, shocked to hear such talk from her mother. But then, her mother had always been a pretty straight-shooting woman, and she probably talked this way with her friends. The only difference was that now she was sharing her innermost feelings with her daughter.

“I’m okay,” Elizabeth said, waving a hand. “I know, you’re shocked to hear Mommy talking like this. But we’re all adults. You can take it. I’ve been angry at you these last couple of days, but the reality is that I’ve been really angry at me. For living that lie. I don’t know where you got the gumption to stand up for yourself, but I admire you for it. And I wish I’d had it, too.”

“You were hardly the only one, Mom. Dad was definitely the rule back then, not the exception. A guy really had it all—a beautiful wife, wonderful family, awesome career with great financial success, multiple homes, expensive cars, and, oh yeah, a rockin’ mistress on the side that everyone knew was his, to discourage any possible legitimate suitors. So many of them did it in Dad’s time, and some still do; they just aren’t as arrogant about it.”

They were silent for a moment. “You’re really gonna return that car?” Elizabeth asked finally.

Amanda bit her lip. She said nothing.

“You’re not gonna trade it in for an SUV? You could, you know. And you’d get a bunch of cash back, too. I’m sure Mr. Black Mercedes wouldn’t mind, whoever he is.”

“I can buy my own SUV, Mom,” Amanda said quietly.

Elizabeth nodded admiringly. “You’re a good girl, Amanda,” she said, yawning. “This heat just wipes me out completely.” She pointed at the wide-screen. “Movie’s back on. I like Bogart. Not that I would have liked being married to him. It would’ve been a part-time job. Well, maybe I would have. Why don’t you put the sound back on?”

Amanda glanced over at her mother, awestruck by the direction the conversation had taken. She actually felt relieved to put the sound back on; the conversation had been a little too revealing for her comfort level. And yet, it was the kind of talk she had always dreamt of having with her mother. She hit the mute button and the raspy voice of Humphrey Bogart returned. A moment later, Amanda saw that her mother had fallen asleep and was snoring like a bear.

Amanda watched the rest of the movie, secretly wishing she had a bucket of popcorn with lots and lots of butter. Forget SoCal tofu—if there were ever a time in her life for Orville Redenbacher, this was it. What a day, Amanda thought, letting out an exhausted yawn as the film credits rolled across the screen.