The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse

“What did you tell your husband?”

Carla smiled. “I’m at Lynne’s—if he asks.”

“You didn’t tell him you were attending a party?” Richard asked, seemingly amazed.

“It never came up in conversation.”

The band began to play
Unchained Melody
, one of her favorite songs. “Would you care to dance, Carla? I promise not to trample your feet.”

“Can I get that in writing?” she teased.

“Not necessary. I graduated from Ms. Carol’s ballroom dancing class when I was thirteen,” Richard replied with a big grin.

“Then, I’d like that, very much,” she said, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

Nestled in the web of his arms, Carla closed her eyes and let the strains of the music fill her. She breathed in the scent of Richard’s aftershave. Along with the nearness of being with him it sent a delightful shiver of yearning through her as her cheek rubbed gently against his. It had to be the wine, she thought.

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF CARLA MILLHOUSE

Chapter One

Carla Millhouse placed her menu on the white, linen tablecloth and looked around at the tasteful décor of the newly renovated BLT Steak and Bar Restaurant. “Nice place; glad I came,” Carla said to her friend seated before her.

“Me, too, and the view of Camelback Mountain is simply priceless.” Lynne Daniels replied referring to the impressive Scottsdale landmark. “We needed a change from our usual haunts. Besides, it seemed like the only way to get to see you.”

“Sorry. I’ve been preoccupied…lately.”

“You don’t say. Wanna tell me what’s been so important that you can’t find five minutes to pick up the phone and call me?”

Carla looked down at her hands and bit her bottom lip.

“The last time I heard from you was the July 4
th
weekend. That was over a month ago. What’s going on?”

“
Nothing’s going on!
” Carla replied a little too loudly and forcefully enough to emulate Lady Macbeth.

An elderly couple sitting at a nearby table turned to look at her.
Damn busybodies.
Carla narrowed her eyes and glared at them, before turning back to Lynne and repeated in a quieter voice, “Everything’s fine.” However, she wrung her hands in her lap under the table.

Lynne, unaware of her friend’s hand wringing, did notice that small twitch in her right eye indicating that Carla was nervous or worse,
lying
. She was also fighting back tears. Lynne knew that if she kept insisting on some answers, eventually her friend would crack and divulge what was so obviously distressing her. Best friends forever, they rarely kept secrets from one another.

“Okay are you going to tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?”

“Honestly, Lynne, nothing’s wrong. Everything’s just perfect in Carlaland. The sun is shining—”

“You’re not reading to me from one of your children’s books. And from what I can see, it’s about to start raining any minute in Carlaland.”

Carla blinked a couple of times to disperse the tears welling in her large, soft-brown eyes and took a deep breath. “All right. You win. I think Martin is having an affair.”

About to take a sip of water, Lynne nearly dropped the glass. “Why would you
even
think that?”

“Well aside from the fact he now works late four out of six days a week and just comes home to sleep, he’s been kind of…distant lately.” Carla blushed. In fact, Martin hadn’t touched her in months.

“Is there any possibility that you could be mistaken?”

Carla pressed her lips together tightly. “Umm, did I mention I also found a hotel room receipt in the pocket of one of the suits he asked me to take to the cleaners?”

Lynne sat in stunned silence for a few seconds. Then her almond-shaped hazel eyes flashed. “
Unbelievable!
Have you said anything to him yet?”

“No.”

“If he were my husband, by now I would have threatened every inch of his life with a butcher knife.” Lynne’s café-au-lait complexion flushed with anger.

Had Carla not been so upset, the image of her petite, pixie-like girlfriend wielding a large butcher knife would have made her laugh. Instead she muttered, “I can’t believe he’s doing this to me.”

“Yeah, me neither. What happened to the guy who used to worship the ground you walk on?”

Carla shrugged. “Repaved the road and drove off.”

“Be serious, Carla. This is your life, not some kid’s story.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Carla said as the steak knife she was nervously fiddling with went sailing out of her grasp and landed handle up in the wooden floor almost pinning the foot of the approaching waiter.

The waiter seemed not to be amused at narrowly missing being skewered as he bent down to extract the knife from the wood. A tall man with a fringe of dark-brown hair circling his large, melon-shaped head, he reminded Carla of Bert from
Sesame Street
and she fought to suppress a giggle. She got control of herself and ordered a turkey club sandwich and iced tea. Lately food had become her only excitement. Lynne ordered the same and the now wary man scribbled her order into his pad and sped off to the safety of the kitchen.

“What do you think caused things to change between you and Martin?” Lynne asked.

“Fifty pounds and ten years,” Carla said, remembering how she looked in the mirror as she was dressing that morning. The sight of her double-D boobs and over-sized love handles nearly made her sick. Reduced to wearing clothing with lots of elastic, she had abandoned most of the clothes in her closet, favoring easy-fitting sweat suits.

“In that case, why don’t you turn back the clock?”

Carla looked at Lynne incredulously. “No one can do that.”

“True, but you can go back to a happier time in your marriage.”

Carla stopped fidgeting and looked up at Lynne.

“You’ve got to take charge of your life. No matter what, you’re still the same woman Martin had fallen in love with.”

“How do you know I wasn’t replaced with a clone?”

“Carla, be serious.”

“I can’t. It’ll hurt worse.”

“And if you lose Martin to another woman? How do you think you’ll feel then?” Lynne pressed gently.

Carla turned away to gather her thoughts. A few beats later, as if a strong wind had blown away all the clouds of self-doubt, the answer came to her. She knew Lynne was right and exactly what had to be done. She wasn’t going to play the hurt, abandoned woman and throw Martin out, placing her entire future in the hands of some expensive divorce lawyer. Or worse, wait until he tossed her out on her now very ample ass. If Martin had loved her once upon a time, she’d have to return to that time. Of course, she couldn’t time travel, but she could repair the damage that time had wrought. She’d lose all the extra weight and get her body back into shape. By prowling around, Martin was hardly ever home. She’d have all the time and space she’d need in order to accomplish this goal.

“What would I do without you, Lynne?”

“Babe, that’s what friends are for,” Lynne said grinning. Verbally patting herself on the back.

“Seriously, I’m definitely going to need your help here. Losing fifty pounds of extra baggage isn’t going to be easy. You can’t just leave it at the airport or train station.”

“The only thing easy about weight is how you put it on, but no worry.”

“Whadya mean ‘no worry’?”

“We’ll get you a personal trainer.”

“What for? I’m not getting in the ring with Rocky. All I want to do is lose weight.”

“A personal trainer will show you the best way to do just that and how to keep it off. I’ll introduce you to mine,” Lynne said.

“
You
have a personal trainer?”
And
how
did I not know this?
Carla wondered.

“Uh-huh. He was a birthday gift from my roommate, Melanie. I learned a great deal from him and still go for workouts from time to time.”

Carla recalled how fabulous Lynne’s slim but shapely figure looked in her tailored, black suit as she greeted her in the restaurant parking lot. Lynne looked a helluva lot better at thirty-two than she did. And Lynne wore sweat suits to workout in—not to hide her figure. If she could end up with a figure like her friend’s, Martin’s head would spin around faster than Linda Blair’s character in
The Exorcist
movie. Maybe there
was
something to this personal training thing.

“Once you get the weight control under your belt—”

“Assuming I’ll be able to wear one again.”

“I’m ignoring that negativism,” Lynne said putting a manicured finger in each ear for emphasis. “Once the weight is taken care of, then we’ll tackle everything else,” she continued, glancing pointedly at Carla’s frumpy, elastic-waisted, knit slacks and baggy cotton top. “I’ll just bet you can’t even remember the last time you had any of your nails done, much less a wax.”

The way Lynne was looking at her, made Carla’s toes curl in her worn sandals. “
Everything else
,” Carla repeated. “This sounds like a major overhaul—almost as if you intend to reconstruct me.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I hadn’t realized that I’d let myself slip down the drain that far,” she said as more tears escaped.

Lynne reached across the table and patted Carla’s hand. “No, you didn’t self-destruct, but there is a great deal of work that needs to be done.”

“I’ll never do it.” Carla shook her head, lips pursed.

“Remember, no defeatist’s attitude is allowed. We’re going to make you better than you ever were.”

“Yeah, a new improved model,” Carla said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “hopefully with a better warranty.”

Lynne shook her head. “Are you going to be serious about this or not?”

Carla stopped sniveling and asked, “Do you honestly think that any of this is possible?”

“Of course.” Suddenly an impish grin spread across her petite friend’s face.

“What?”

“Have you ever thought of becoming a blonde?” Lynne asked, patting her own sleek black hair. With the bangs and her slanted hazel eyes and pretty ears, she looked elfin.

“No. What
are
you thinking?”

“When I’m through with you, Carla, Martin is going to be on his knees begging you to forgive him,” Lynne said, grinning impishly.

“This is not going to be easy.”

“Uh-huh. Nothing important ever is.”

“You know how hard it is to get me to do the same thing twice, right?” Carla said hesitantly.

“Yeah, and your point is?”

“How are you going to keep me on track? There’s no yellow brick road for me to follow.”

Lynne rolled her eyes at Carla’s reference to
The Wizard of Oz
. “Look at it this way. If you get derailed, you’ll only be hurting yourself. Just think of the satisfaction you’ll get by winning your husband back from some young bimbo.”

Carla took a bite of her sandwich. “And on that note, when do we get started?”