The Hot Flash Club (25 page)

“Did you have an orgasm?”

“I think so. I saw a trilobite.”

Alice was silent. Then she said, “You’re a little strange, you know?”

“The
point
is,” Marilyn began.

Alice interrupted. “I
know
what the point is.”

They both laughed. “
My
point is,” Marilyn continued, “I’m pretty sure the pleasure I had wasn’t because Barton was a good lover. I don’t even know what a
good
lover
would mean.”

“Technically proficient?”

“That might have scared me.”

“Romantic?”

“Perhaps, a little.” Marilyn tried to remember the evening chronologically, but the memory rushed back in a misty blur, like a fog of perfume saleswomen sprayed in department stores. “Barton told me he was falling in love with me—but that was
after
we made love. No, I don’t think my pleasure had as much to do with Barton being a good lover as it did with my being open to the experience.”

“So to speak.”

Marilyn laughed. “I hadn’t made love with Theodore for years, and then it wasn’t
making love
, it was me giving him oral sex. He never thought I was pretty. I’ve never felt pretty, I’ve never been
sexy
—you know what I look like, a fishing pole. All my life I’ve been respected for my mind and ignored for everything else. But when I joined the Hot Flash Club, when you three made me get new clothes and a new hairstyle and I saw what I
could
be—it was like I blossomed. I started experiencing life in a different way. Why, suddenly my clothes felt so slinky and silky!”

“That’s because they were silk instead of polyester,” Alice pointed out.

“And the fragrance of my perfume and makeup and shampoo made me feel like I was always walking through a field of flowers. And all that made me feel sexy, all the time! It’s like I’m on some kind of great drug! I’m attracted to almost every man I see these days. I can’t
wait
to go to bed with Faraday!”

“Well, I’m happy for you, Marilyn, I really am,” Alice said, sounding as if she were about to slit her own throat. “But that doesn’t help me. I already wear silk and perfume. And I’m still just downright terrified of letting Gideon see me naked.”

“Alice, you’re
beautiful
.”

“I’m overweight.”

“Gideon knows what you look like, doesn’t he?” Marilyn pointed out sensibly. “It’s not like you’ve been hiding your weight from him.”

“As if I could.”

“He must have thought you were attractive, or he wouldn’t have asked you for coffee after the symphony, and then taken you to the jazz club. Maybe he
likes
plump women. I bet they’re more fun to cuddle than a bundle of bones. Besides, you can keep the lights off.”

“I suppose,” Alice capitulated in a little voice.

Marilyn pressed on. “The question is, are you attracted to him?”

Alice groaned. “I don’t know! Honest to God, it’s been so long since I’ve even thought about real sexual attraction without any strings attached, I can’t even figure out what I think or how I feel! You say
you
never felt sexy, so you didn’t have sexual urges, right? Well,
I
used to feel sexy, and I used it to my advantage, to flirt with a man when I wanted to get my way at work. But I disconnected my own reactions. I never let myself even consider whether or not I felt attracted to a man, because sex was all part of a very competitive game, and I wanted to win.”

“Did you go to bed with any of them?”

“I haven’t had sex with a man for twenty years.”

“Don’t you miss sex?”

“I have a vibrator. And I trust it completely. It would never pull the kind of trick on me that Barton pulled on you.”

“I know.” Marilyn groaned. “But desire is so illogical.”

“Where there’s a phallus, there’s bound to be a fallacy,” Alice joked.

Marilyn chortled. “Very funny, in a heady sort of way.” They both snickered. Then, turning serious, she said, “Listen. Remember what we talked about in the HFC the other night? We all agreed that whatever we do or don’t do, we won’t let ourselves be held back by fear. I had a great experience with sex with Barton, and I’ve got my hopes up about Faraday . . .”

“Have you been to bed with him yet?”

“Not yet. But soon.”

“Are you nervous about it?”

“Yeah, kind of. But that’s part of the pleasure.” Marilyn waved her toes at herself.

“Oh, man.” Alice sighed. “You’re a natural at this, I guess. I’ve always played competitive games. I’m not sure how I’ll do at a cooperative function.”

“It’s never too late to learn to share your toys.”

“Well, thanks, Marilyn. I wish I could phone you tonight when I get nervous.”

“It will come back to you,” Marilyn promised. “Just like riding a bike.”

38

In a pair of loose canvas trousers and her paint-spattered blue smock, Faye stood in her attic studio, palette in hand. That morning she’d set up a still life of daffodils and tulips in a clear glass vase on a cloth of pale rose. A pretty scene, stimulating and light. She’d clicked on a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, which always made her smile, and started to work. She stopped for lunch, then returned to her easel. No judgment, she reminded herself. She’d been away from her canvases for a while, she had to cut herself some slack.

The little brass carriage clock chimed four times. Laura and Megan would be there soon. Faye rinsed her brushes and tidied up her studio, then stopped at the door to look back at her work. It was fine. A perfectly decent rendering of spring flowers. People might even want to buy it to hang in their homes—it was cheerful enough. But Faye knew it lacked
heart
. Because her heart wasn’t in it. Something about the act of painting itself had changed for her. It was as if she’d spent the day watering a plastic flower.

Perhaps, she admitted, as she turned off the lights and headed down to her bedroom to change clothes, perhaps she found the work lonely. She missed the discreet bustle of the Eastbrooks, tea and scones with Margie, her exciting little visits with Dora, even the ordinary exchange of domestic information with Mrs. Eastbrook and the maids.

Before that, a little more than a year ago, her house had been filled with Laura and Jack; especially Jack. Her studio had been a refuge from the commotion of a busy life crammed with dinners with friends, social engagements related to Jack’s firm, and Laura’s wedding plans and baby showers. Also, she’d been busy with the normal work of buying the food and preparing healthy, delicious meals for two. Now she was alone in this big old house, and she could easily shop twice a week for groceries. Like her life, the house swelled emptily around her.

Then Laura burst in the front door and Faye hurried down to meet her.

“Megan!” Faye gathered her granddaughter in her arms. “How’s my wittle wabbit?” She rubbed noses with Megan, who chortled and clutched a stray lock of Faye’s hair.

Faye settled on the sofa with Megan on her lap, untied the baby bonnet, and slipped it off the baby’s soft, sweet head. Was there anything more enticing than this warm weight, these bright eyes, this fragrance of baby powder and baby?

Laura rattled around in the kitchen. “Mom!” she yelled. “Didn’t you buy any Ben & Jerry’s?”

“I haven’t had time to go to the grocery store,” Faye called back.

Laura entered the room with a box of Wheat Thins in her hands. “You’ve got to get some decent food in this house.”

“I have decent food, darling. Apples. Grapes.” She snuggled Megan down among the sofa cushions and handed the baby a fat rubber fish on which Megan immediately began to gnaw.

“They’re boring.” Laura tossed herself with a thump on the other end of the sofa, tucking her feet up beneath her. “I need comfort food.”

“Listen, Laura, I need to discuss something with you.”

“Okay.” Laura munched a cracker.

Faye turned to the right, toward Megan, double-checking that the baby was safe and couldn’t roll off onto the floor. She turned to the left, toward Laura, and saw how, quite literally, she had once again let herself get right in the middle of this little family.

She moved to the sofa on the other side of the coffee table. That was good. She could look her daughter right in the eye, without straining her own neck. “I’m going to put the house on the market.”

Cracker crumbs flew. “Mom! No!”

“Darling, I have to.”

“You can’t!” Laura protested.

Megan’s lower lip quivered.

“Don’t frighten your daughter,” Faye advised in a singsong voice that would calm Megan.

“Okay,” Laura sang back. She reached over to Megan and smiled. “Who’s got a rubber fishy?” Megan rewarded her with a grin that sent drool down her chin. “Mom, you can’t sell the house,” Laura said to Faye with nursery rhyme tones.

“It’s too big for me now—”

“But it’s
my
home, too!” Laura protested.

Faye peered steadily at her daughter without speaking.

“Oh.” Laura sank back in the cushions. “Oh, okay, I see what you’re saying. You’re saying I spend too much time over here.”

“I’m saying I need to start over, Laura. I’ve got many years of life left, I hope, and I want to live them happily, not stuck in the past. I think your father would expect that much of me.”

Laura’s face took on a melancholy cast, and she began to chew on her index finger. Faye watched her daughter regress to this old habit, the sign of stress Laura had displayed during her childhood and adolescence. Laura looked very young, her long dark hair falling around her face, her finger in her mouth, and also older than Faye had ever seen her before, her lovely skin engraved with lines around the eyes and mouth, lines earned by sleepless nights walking the baby, by lonely nights wondering where her husband was. Every single instinct in Faye’s heart burned and tugged and strained and longed to fix things for Laura, to offer her complete shelter here in this house, to keep the house exactly as it was so her child did not have to suffer yet one more loss.

She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, to keep herself from speaking.

At last Laura raised her sad eyes to Faye. “And what would Daddy expect of me?”

Faye took a deep breath. “I think he’d want you to create your own home, Laura. Either with Lars or by yourself.”

Laura nodded. “I know. You’re right, Mom. I’m to blame for—”

Faye lifted her hand. “No need to talk of blame. I needed you so much when your father died, and you helped me by staying here. Who’s to blame for that? It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you need to start fresh now, and so do I, and I can’t do it here.”

“But, Mom, where will you go?”

“I’m not sure. Part of the fun will be in looking. Selling the house will free me up, Laura, and I want to help you, too.”

“You always help me.”

“I mean financially. This house should bring a nice sum, and I want to give half of it to you to use on a down payment for a house.”

“Oh, Mom! You don’t have to do that!”

“No, I don’t have to, but I want to. I hope it will take some of the anxiety out of this part of your life. Then, perhaps, Lars can find a job with a less-high-powered firm. Perhaps he’ll be able to practice the kind of law he likes. Or, you two might get divorced. You’ll have money to buy a small house and start a new life.”

“A new life,” Laura murmured. Her lovely face was full of doubt.

“It will take a while to sell the house,” Faye continued, trying to sound brisk. “Before I can give you the money from the house, I want to give you something else.”

Laura looked up expectantly. “Okay.”

“I want to give you and Lars a romantic weekend. I’ll take care of Megan for three days, and you and Lars go wherever you want—within reason. Up to Maine to walk in the woods, or down to the Cape to stroll by the ocean. Someplace where you can wear pretty lingerie and take long afternoon naps, where you both can gorge yourselves like gluttons on extravagant food and wines. Where you can rest and reconcile.”

Now the tears exploded. Laura rushed across to give Faye a huge hug. “You’re the best mom.”

Faye hugged her back. She picked up Megan and laid her on the floor between them. Megan shrieked with pleasure, wriggling her arms and legs gleefully, like a beetle trying to flip over.

“Tell me, Mom,” Laura said, sounding very grown-up all of a sudden. “Did Dad ever cheat on you?”

“Laura, you can’t judge your marriage by mine.”

“You’re evading the question.”

“No.” Faye shook her head. “No, Jack never cheated on me.” Bending down, she dug into the diaper bag, then handed Megan her brightly colored set of plastic keys. Megan cooed ecstatically at them and tried to stick them all in her mouth. “Who’s Grandmother’s beautiful baby girl?”
Don’t let fear hold you back,
she remembered them agreeing at the HFC. And so, still grinning at Megan, Faye said, “But I cheated on your father.”

“You did not!”

“I did.”

“Mom!”

Faye leaned back in the cushions, looking up at the ceiling. “You were in first grade, and you loved school, and you were such an independent little thing.”

“Yeah, well, look at me now,” Laura snorted.

“Jack was overwhelmed with his work. I felt left behind.
Old.
” She chuckled. “I was only thirty. An old beau from college phoned me. He was in town for a conference, and I met him for drinks, and he was so
exciting
! Zeke led hiking tours all over the world, New Zealand one month, Switzerland the next. He was lean and tanned and the most glamorous thing I’d ever seen.” Faye smiled up at the ceiling, remembering.

“Eew, Mom, so you
slept
with him?”

For her daughter’s sake, Faye tamed her smile. “I did. Several times over the next few months, whenever he was in town. It was so
romantic
, Laura.” She still could remember how it felt to get ready for a rendezvous, the sensuality of preparations, the perfumed soap, new silk lingerie, the anticipation as she drove toward the hotel. The thump in her body when she first saw him, the energy of his kisses, so different from the absentminded kisses of her husband. Zeke’s need of her, the force with which he pushed her down on the hotel bed, pressing her legs open with his knees, shoving her skirt up, wrenching her panties down—the
urgency
. She’d felt wanton, carnal, tempting. He did not ask whether the plumber had been to the house, whether his mother had agreed to spend Christmas with them that year, or how Laura’s teacher conference went. He did not ask her to rub his feet, he did not fart or belch in front of her, he did not ask her to inspect a worrisome mole, and if he had
had
a worrisome mole, Faye wouldn’t have worried. It was as if there was another way to be a human being, completely different from the way Faye was doing it, and for a few minutes a month, she got to live that sensual, liberated life.

“Did Dad ever know?”

Her daughter’s voice pulled the plug on her memories. “Yes. Someone from Jack’s firm saw me coming out of the hotel with Zeke. She told Jack, who confronted me.” Faye sighed. She hated remembering this part. “It was horrible. Your father was devastated. I was sick with guilt.” Her daughter didn’t need to know how close they’d come to divorcing. “But we got through it. We went to church. We saw a counselor. I started painting. Gradually, things got better, and after that, we were just more and more in love with each other with every passing year.”

Laura made a soft, whimpering noise.

Faye turned to her. “Oh, darling, I didn’t mean to upset you, I shouldn’t have told you—”

“I’m not crying about you! I’m crying about me! Oh, Mom, what will I do if Lars wants a divorce?”

Faye took her daughter by her shoulders. “Do you love him, Laura?”

“With all my heart!”

“Can you forgive his affair?”

Laura looked away. “It will be hard.”

“It will be harder if you wring your hands over a steaming pot of resentment,” Faye pointed out sensibly.

“What if he doesn’t want to go away for a romantic weekend with me?” Laura looked terrified.

“Maybe he’ll be surprised and complimented if you ask,” Faye pointed out.

“Oh, Mom.” Laura hugged herself. “I wish you could ask him for me.” But she grinned. “I know, I know. I’ve got to do it myself.”

After Laura took Megan home, Faye walked through her wonderful house, turning lights on as she went. She looked in the refrigerator for some kind of treat—letting go of Laura had made her heart ache. She felt like a cast-aside stake, once the sapling stands tall and free. She was useless, except as a grandmother. Thank heavens for that.

Closing the refrigerator door, Faye sat down with a bowl of red grapes, plucked one from the stem, and rolled it between her fingers. It was cool and smooth, a lovely burgundy color, but she had no desire to paint it. She had no desire to seclude herself in her attic studio with a number of inanimate objects. It was as if a part of herself, once as brilliant as an oil by Rembrandt, had faded into sepia and was disappearing altogether.

The phone rang. She snatched it up.

“Faye!” She sounded so happy it made Faye smile.

“Hello, Marilyn. How are you?”

“I’m great! And I owe it all to you! How can I ever thank you for arranging the wedding?”

“I had fun doing it. Have you heard from the honeymoon couple?”

“They phoned last night. They’re hiking in Hawaii and having a wonderful time. Lila loves the beaches, and Teddy loves the volcanoes.”

“Speaking of which, any eruptions from the Eastbrooks?”

“Oh, yes. Lila phoned them from Hawaii. They’re furious, and Dr. Eastbrook threatened to hire a private detective to track down Mrs. Van Dyke.”

“Uh-oh.” A snake of fear slid down Faye’s spine.

“Not to worry. Dora’s so much happier now that she’s started painting. She’s eating more, her general health is better, and she’s even thinking of going out to sit in a secluded spot on the grounds and paint.
That’s
made Mrs. Eastbrook so happy, she’s told her husband not to pursue Mrs. Van Dyke.”

“Whew.” Faye’s heart slowed down.

“Plus, Dora’s asked Mrs. Eastbrook to find a private art tutor for her. This is like a miracle, I guess, because before you came, Dora was terrified of strangers.”

“Speaking of strangers, did you ever find out who the man was you saw being so chummy with Lila at Mario’s restaurant?”

“Lila’s hairdresser. He’s been her best friend since high school, and he’s gay.”

“What a relief!”

“I know. Everything’s turned out beautifully, and we have you to thank for it, Faye. By the way, how’s your daughter doing?”

Faye settled in a chair, put her feet up on the kitchen table, and described her most recent meeting with Laura. “Was it hard, letting go of Teddy?”

“Not really. We were never as close as you and Laura. Perhaps guys and their mothers aren’t. On the other hand, he’s being very protective of me since his father filed for a divorce, and he thinks I’m supercool for changing my appearance. Plus, Lila and I finally have lots to talk about. She loves giving me advice on clothes and makeup, and she wants me to go to the gym with her when she comes back from her honeymoon.”