What is Love? (4 page)

“I’m sorry,” Patty
said. “I had no idea about your dad. I thought he helped you in the coat
business.”

“My uncle did. My
father died when I was nine. There’s a photo of him here.” Ellen flipped a few
pages and the memory of her father appeared, the warm smile on his face. “I
missed him so much. I felt like dying after he passed away. He’d give me giant
bear hugs and remind me how special I was, how I was the best part of his life.
After he died, my mother had no money and couldn’t take care of me
properly
.
She believed rural life in Iowa wasn’t good enough, so I was sent to
Connecticut to live with my aunt and uncle for a few years, then off to Saint
Agatha’s School for Girls in the Upper West Side
 …”
she hesitated. “Finishing school, as Mother would say.
But as an only child, I wanted to be part of a family, not sent away. I hated
being alone at school, but I didn’t have a choice.”

 “I had no idea
about your rough childhood. So that’s why you got hitched so young.” Patty’s
voice was soft with concern. “Was it bad with your aunt and uncle?”

“No,” Ellen lied. A
chill moved through her. “No, Aunt Victoria and Uncle George were good to me,
but I was eager to have them love me. I was so desperate to be a part of their
life, that I did anything just to please them.” She paused on the word
anything,
awakening buried feelings of shame. “I constantly worried about making a
mistake or disappointing them and was afraid that if I messed up, they would
send me somewhere horrible and I’d be alone again. I was a very insecure young
girl doing everything to please everyone, afraid to be abandoned.”

“I bet you were.
What happened with your mom?”

“Mother,” Ellen
paused, remembering her limited contact. “She called occasionally and wrote
regularly.” Ellen knew the weight of her lie but pushed it aside. “She had big
plans for me. She wanted me to be a grand lady, something she would never be.
She regretted her choices in life, and lived with envy of her sister who made
the right choice and married a rich man. Her only hope was that I live with her
sister and turn into what she had wanted to be. She filled me with dreams—of
going to elegant parties, wearing diamonds and mink. So, I read everything I
could to learn about etiquette and style
 …
you might say I was obsessed.”

“Well, look at you
now. We assumed you came from money. Bet your mom’s proud.”

“Yes, too bad she
can’t remember me.” Ellen looked away. “Dementia stole her years ago.” What she
wanted to say was,
too bad she never knew about any of it
 …
of the damage. Too bad Mother’s
mental illness left me alone and frightened and desperate. Too bad I was
considered a hillbilly by the other girls and never fit in. Too bad the past
can’t be undone.

“But I do live the
life she dreamed of, and I have her to thank. It amazes me what parents will
sacrifice for their children. She wanted me to have everything and sacrificed
her needs as a mother for mine, so I could have a wonderful life.” Ellen was
suddenly aware of her rambling on and revealing far too much personal
information.

“As you have done
for your kids,” Patty added.

“Yes, little do they
realize. One day they will understand.”

“Don’t hold your
breath, darling.” Patty laughed. “At least your kids visit you. Mine live on
the other side of the world
 …
intentionally,
I think.”

“I see them, but not
often enough.” Ellen leaned closer, speaking in hushed tone. “Then when they’re
here, I often feel unappreciated and can’t wait for them to leave. Bad, isn’t
it?”

“I’m the same way.
We’re supposed to love our kids, but sometimes
 …
boy, they make it such a challenge. I often wonder why we bother. Then,
you look again at this,” Patty held a picture of Ellen holding Brianna as a
baby, “and it’s all worth it, isn’t it?”

Ellen glanced at the
photograph and smiled. “Yes. The love is incredible. This little one thinks you
are the most important person in the world and won’t leave your side. Those
clear eyes looking up at you, believing in you, trusting you
 …
it is remarkable, that joy—”

“Until they become
teenagers, then everything you do is embarrassing and stupid.” Patty slipped
another truffle into her mouth, pulled a photo out from the album and held it
up. “Now this looks interesting.”

“That was 1951. I
helped design the coat line back then and that was our buying trip to Paris
 …
it was so romantic.”

“Why did you stop?”

“The babies came.”
Ellen pushed the photos away. “But, I didn’t like designing anyway. I mean,
once you design a hundred coats, you’ve done them all. And those dreary
uniforms. Of course, I loved the shopping part of it. I’ve always been a great
shopper.”

“Then that’s what we’ll
do.” Patty slapped Ellen’s thigh. She stood and grabbed Ellen by the shoulders.
“When you get tired of all this self-pity and need a change of scenery, give me
a call. We’ll shop you out of misery.”

“And end my pity
party? No way.” Ellen pulled away and raised her hands in defense. “Not yet.
I’m still too hurt and angry and
 …
maybe
after he returns, after some good news, then we can go celebrate.” Ellen forced
a feeble smile. “Let’s hope, anyway.”

It was two a.m.
Tuesday when Jonathan quietly slipped back into the house. Four nights had
passed since the gala, four nights since he had fought with Ellen. He tiptoed
past her room and down the hall to his bedroom. A sliver of light shone from
the narrow opening at the base of his door, illuminating part of the dark
hallway floor. He slowly opened the door and noticed Ellen, asleep on his bed,
surrounded by photographs and stacks of albums. He tiptoed across the room and
stood over her.

He picked up a few
photos: the old summerhouse, the birth of Brianna in 1956, the trip to
California, Brandon’s first birthday in 1953, Brianna on her tricycle. Memories
rose to the surface. He had blocked these feelings of the past. But here, now,
spread before him and undeniable, they were still part of him. His life. His
family. His wife. With every photo, he felt the weight of his guilt. His
conversation with Brandon this morning, about leaving Ellen, finished any plan
he made of a quick escape. Instead, he was reminded how much value his children
put on integrity and trust. He had taught them that. He felt sick.

He went into the
bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He studied his reflection in the
mirror. How could he be so cruel? As much as he hated Ellen’s constant nagging
and her pious vanity, he had loved her
 …
once. In those photographs, he remembered the girl he had adored. She
was full of life and daring. She introduced him to a world filled with elegant
dinners, parties, glamorous friends
 …
and
fun. They had shared plenty of good times over the years.

He returned to his
bedroom and stood, watching Ellen sleep. Her face appeared soft and frail.
Innocent.
What happened? What had changed and when?

He pulled the
blanket over Ellen’s shoulders and turned off the lights. In the darkness, he
sat in his leather club chair and thought about the years they shared. When did
it end? When did he no longer feel loved? He stared past her, toward hazy
shadows cast on the far wall from the soft moonlight and tried to untangle his
feelings. She never understood his needs. She never stopped to try to figure
out what was missing from his life. She was perfectly happy; her world was her
family, her church, and her society. When did he no longer fit in? He had
stopped going to church with her, stopped participating in countless
activities. Why didn’t he try harder? And why couldn’t he love her the way she
loved him?

He sat for a long
time, reflecting. Ellen stirred gently on the bed. Jonathan felt his cruelty
wash away, replaced with pity. He walked up to the bed, bent down and kissed
her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he
said, then sat beside her. “I am so very sorry.”

She opened her eyes
and put her hand on his. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he answered,
his voice tender. “I was a heartless jerk. Can you forgive me?”

“Should I?” Ellen slowly
sat up and faced him. “You said you wanted to leave me. You told me you want to
be with her
 …”
Her eyes
glistened as her voice broke with emotion. “Do you have any idea how
horrible—?”

“No
 …
I was drunk.” He put his arm around
her shoulder. “I want to be with you. I want to work things out.”

“And I want to
believe that, Jonathan, I do. But it’s been so painful.” Her tears gave way.

Jonathan reached for
a tissue and touched her wet cheeks. “I want to make it up to you
 …
will you let me try?”

Ellen sat for a
moment, looking out toward the window. He braced himself for an angry outburst.
Instead, her face softened and her eyes gazed deep into his, her pleading
gentle eyes.

“Are we still going
to Barbados?” Ellen asked in a hushed voice, running her fingers through her
hair. “I didn’t cancel yet, I was hoping—”

“Yes dear,” he said,
embracing her hand. “That’s a great idea. Let’s celebrate our forty years
together just as planned. Let’s work this out and go away and have some fun.”

As he spoke these
words, guilt crashed over him like a North Shore wave.
Samantha!
His
heart froze. How could he not hurt Ellen, yet not hurt Sam? He sat on the bed
holding Ellen’s hand, painfully aware that he would hurt someone no matter what
choice he made.

***

Sam listened to the
message on her answering machine and threw the cordless phone onto the floor,
hoping it would shatter into a hundred pieces. “The bitch has him going to
Barbados,” she screamed to her roommate.

“His wife?” Sienna
called out from the kitchen.

“Yes, his bitch
wife!” Sam yelled and flopped back onto the bed, pushing away the sickening
image of that fat, miserable woman vacationing with Jonathan.

Sienna appeared in
Sam’s doorway holding a bottle of vodka. She kicked the phone aside with her
foot, the bent antenna catching on her sock until she shook it free.

“He told me he’d
canceled it with her and was taking me instead.” Sam threw a badly mended bunny
against the headboard. “What the hell? Why would he go with her? He hates her.”

Sienna poured a
shooter of the vodka, handed it to Sam, and said, “Maybe she convinced him—you
know—it would look bad for the family. Blah, blah, blah.”

“What would the
neighbors think, more like it.” Sam drank the shot in one quick swallow. “God,
I hate her! She’s such a selfish cow. She doesn’t deserve him. You know, she
doesn’t even screw him. They haven’t had sex for, God, like thirty years or
something.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. Dead serious.
He said after the babies, her hormones died or something. Then she just
couldn’t do it—ever. What a bunch of shit. She was in it for the money, got it
all and then ‘Sorry dear, not tonight or the next fifty years, see—I have this,
like, bitch’n headache’.”

 Sienna laughed.
“That’s pathetic. Good luck keeping your man, never having sex.”

“She used religious
guilt, too—as an excuse, I mean,” Sam said, pressing her hands together in mock
prayer. “God doesn’t like kinky sex. It’s immoral, you perv.”

“What a loser. She
sounds like my mom, all Godlike and uptight. She drove Dad away with all that
guilt and shit. A total nag.”

Sam held her glass
out for a refill. “But wait—get this—she lets him mess around with other women.
She knows he screws around, but no prostitutes allowed.” She downed the shot.

“What morals! Screw
strangers but just don’t pay for it.”

“Yeah, put your dick
into every girl at the office, but keep it clean, just in case I decide to
sleep with you sometime in the next hundred years!”

Sienna laughed.
“Yeah—wouldn’t want to catch anything.”

They were both
laughing, leaning against each other. “Oooh, don’t let the neighbors catch
you.”

“Don’t get caught on
film.”

“Don’t do it with
anyone I know,” Sam said, wiping tears from her eyes.

“And don’t fall in
love,” Sienna added, pointing her index finger at Sam.

Sam stopped laughing
and sat up straight, a knot tightened in her chest. “You think he might change
his mind? About us, I mean.”

“He’s crazy about
you, I’ve seen it.” Sienna shook her head. “No way.”

“Yes, but she could
make him feel guilty. Too guilty. She’s such an evil bitch.”

“He loves you—he’s
said it a thousand times.” Sienna put her arm around Sam.

“I know, I know.”
Sam pulled away and threw a pillow at Sienna. “But damn her! She could try and
change his mind, try to seduce him.” Sam sat against the headboard and reached
for her cigarettes on the nightstand. “I wish she’d croak.”

“Maybe he plans to
push her off the boat.”

“Now that would be
perfect—”

The phone rang,
interrupting Sam’s laughter. Sienna picked up the phone off the floor and
handed it to Sam, straightening the antenna.

“Hi, baby,”
Jonathan’s voice whispered.

“Don’t ‘Hi baby’ me.
What are you doing, taking your wife on
our
vacation?”

Sienna stood and
gave Sam a thumbs-up gesture before closing the door behind her.

“Sam, you know this
trip was planned over a year ago. It’s for our anniversary and it’s a big
deal—I mean to her—it’s a big deal for her, not me.”

“Of course it’s a
big deal to her—you’re taking her, for God sake!” Sam felt an internal gasket
blow. “You said you were taking me and now you’re taking her? First, you bail
on me during our week in the Bahamas after your stupid son calls, and now
you’re bailing on this. You told me you couldn’t go through with the
Valentine’s thing—that you wanted to be with me. Remember? You canceled that
one, so why go through with this? Why, Johnny?”

“That was different.
I need to do this.”

“You need to? And
just why, exactly?” Blood angrily pumped through her arteries, causing her ears
to buzz.

“Sam, don’t. I need
to do this gently. You don’t understand—”

“No, Johnny. I
don’t!” Her voice vibrated as she yelled. “One minute you want me, the next you
don’t. You obviously want to be with her—explain away. You know, I’m getting
pretty sick of this. Enough with your bullshit lies. Just how long exactly do
you expect me to wait?”

Jonathan didn’t
respond. In the moment of awkward silence, a panic rose within her. She’d
pushed too hard. “Johnny,” she whispered with her best baby voice. “Baby?”

“Sam, I do need you
 …
I do,” Jonathan said, his voice
soft again. Sam heard his sigh. “But I can’t just turn my back on forty years.
Not just like that, not—”

“Yes, you can,” Sam
snapped into the phone. “You can do anything you want.”

“Sam. That’s not
fair.”

“Fair? You plan to
spend ten days with her Highness and leave me alone
 …
that’s fair? Wondering what you do, what you talk about
 …
imagining her seducing you right
back into the way things used to be. I had to arrange for time off work,
remember?” She was ranting and she knew it. “Am I supposed to just ignore this
now? Not worry?”

“I’m not happy about
it, believe me,” his voice rose with obvious annoyance, “but I need to make
sure she has time to get used to things—”

“She’ll get used to
things when you’re gone. I don’t see how stretching this out is helping.”

“I’m giving her
time.”

“You’re fricken
giving her hope!” she screamed into the phone, shaking it with fury.

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes, yes JW, you
are. And I’m losing it.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this to him. “If
you don’t want me, just say.”

“Sam, damn it! Of
course I want you. But just not so damn fast. I need a little more time to sort
all this out.” He stopped yelling and Sam could hear his long sigh. “It’s
complicated, you don’t understand, forty years is a long time. She deserves—”

“She deserves
exactly what she’s getting.”

“Sam, you are being
completely unreasonable.”

“No, Johnny.
You
are unreasonable. And if you weren’t such a selfish asshole and she wasn’t such
a fat, selfish bitch—”

Click!
Oh God.
Sam stared at the disconnected phone in her hand. What had she done? She tried
calling back, but his phone went straight to his answering service. She tried
several more times.

Pick up! Pick up,
damn it!
Pressure surged through her temples. She finally tossed the phone
aside again, sat back on the bed and reached for her lighter, staring at the
picture of Jonathan on her cluttered dresser. He was supposed to get her out of
here. He was to be her savior. On the bulletin board above her desk were
magazine cutouts of the beautiful clothes and jewelry she planned to have one
day, one day when she was rich, one day when she wouldn’t have any worries. But
now—thanks to his stupid wife—she really did have something to worry about.

***

Ellen placed the
last piece of clothing, a peach silk chiffon penoir, into her suitcase and
carefully covered it with the protective garment-liner. Silk and candlelight
would help rekindle their lost but not forgotten love. She zipped the case shut
with the satisfaction that she had done it. Jonathan was staying. And she was
going away with him. Ten days. Ten glorious days to make their marriage work.
When he hadn’t come home those three nights after the Valentine gala, she
realized how much she would lose if he actually left her.

Ellen glanced at the
suitcases on her bed and smiled, accepting her victory. He had behaved badly,
and he knew it. He had finally come to his senses, and wasn’t that what she
wanted all along? Even though he had been busy these past two weeks and they
barely had time to talk, he had been home—every night. She picked up the phone
to call Weston, their driver, to come for their suitcases. She hung up and as
she opened her purse, the phone rang.

“How’s the blushing
bride?” the familiar voice in the receiver asked. “And how’s the packing going?
Pack lots of sexy lingerie?”

Ellen blushed. “Patty!”

“I’ll take that as a
yes,” Patty said. “Well, I hope you have a wonderful and romantic trip. Where
are you staying?”

“The Sandy Lane
Resort—considered a favorite hideaway for royalty and celebrities. And the
Rosenthals go all the time. They say it’s their favorite resort. Mrs. Z stays
there, too, and raves about the service.”

“Well, if it’s good
enough for queens and Mrs. Z, it must be something.”

“It is. We have the
private villa with our own beachfront and a full staff, everything imaginable.”

“A hot tub?”

“Patty! It’s not
that kind of trip.”

“Well, maybe it
should be,” Patty said with a laugh. “Look, this is your big chance. I want to
make sure you rekindle that spark, that you remind him of the sexy times you
used to have. And don’t forget the spice. Think like the enemy.”