Women on the Edge of a Nervous Breakthrough (28 page)

  Okay. No laughing. Vivian sank down beside her, wondering what could be bad enough to keep Sarah from her pumpkins and reduce her to this state. Had she ordered the wrong color frosting for the cake?

  Or please, not Amber . . .

  "So what was this big mistake?"

  "I'm leaving Ben."

  
Whoa.

  "Hold that thought." She scrambled off the couch and headed for the dining room. "If we're getting that heavy I need a drink, too."

  She poured herself a double, took a healthy gulp, then returned to the couch to face As Sarah's World Turns. Being this particular woman's confessor was about the last thing she'd ever expected. "Okay, run that by me again."

  "I'm leaving my husband. Ben. For the last decade of our marriage, he's been . . ." She grimaced and looked over at Vivian. "You don't really care, do you."

  "No, not really." Vivian patted Sarah's fi shnet -covered knee. "But that makes me a good person to tell."

  Sarah laughed dryly. "That's one way of looking at it."

  "So you were on your way to the party, you decided to leave your husband, and you came to me why?"

  "Oh." She gestured aimlessly with her drink and nearly sloshed whiskey over the rim. "You were the only person I could think of who wouldn't judge me."

  "For leaving your husband?"

  "Uh-uh." Sarah swallowed her latest sip. "For cheating on him."

  
Ha! V
ivian smiled her most delighted smile. "Well now, Sarah darling, that's one thing I never did."

  "No?" Sarah turned to stare in horror. "You never did?"

  "Nope." She leaned back on the couch to enjoy the moment.

  "I . . ." Her face flushed crimson. "I thought you'd understand. I thought for sure—"

  "It's okay. I can't throw stones at anyone for fucked -up behavior."

  "Well this was . . ." She gulped more whiskey, staring off into space. "This was quite fucked -up."

  Vivian snorted behind her hand, hoping it sounded like a cough. Sarah was the only person who could make "fucked up" sound like polite conversation at teatime. "What was? The marriage or the cheating?"

  "Both." Another big swallow of whiskey. Sarah was looking to get derailed as fast as possible. "The marriage was slow, painful, endless fucked -up. The cheating was fast, painful, immediate fucked -up."

  "Which happened when? Just now?" She wanted to laugh again. Of all people . . .

  "I wouldn't actually say it happened." She shook her head too many times, with the careless emphasis of someone on her way to getting plastered, then shot Vivian a glance. "You see . . . he couldn't get his thingy up."

  "His
thingy
?" That was too much. Vivian giggled helplessly, relieved when Sarah joined in.

  "He couldn't." Her brows drew together and quivered while she tried not to laugh any more. "I probably could have worked on that little wiener for the rest of my life."

  "Oh
God.
" Vivian shrieked with laughter. Nothing in the world could be funnier than Sarah talking about sex. Nothing. "So what happened?"

  "I walked out." Her smile faded.

  "Because he couldn't—"

  "No." She gripped the glass on her lap. "Because I realized I was full of shit. Deeply and thoroughly full of it."

  Vivian's giggles committed abrupt suicide. "Oh."

  "You knew that. Probably everyone did. It just took me a while." She drank again; her glass was almost empty. "Not a pleasant discovery."

  "But self -knowledge is power."

  "Not tits?"

  Vivian shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder."

  "So you're finding out you're full of shit, too?" Sarah's eyes were hopeful, let's be best girlfriends and find out we're not who we seem together okay?

  Vivian rolled her eyes. She got enough of this from Mike. "Hell, I don't know. Can we talk about something else?"

  "Oh sure, sure, sure." She made a fl uttery motion with her fi ngers. "So . . . Do you really drink beer with carrot cake?"

  "No."

  "Did you flash your boobs at Harris's because you were miserable and angry?"

  "Yeah."

"Did you kill Ed?"

  Vivian twirled her whiskey, watching the legs gather inside the glass and run themselves dry. She wasn't sure she liked this unmasking. "No. I didn't."

  Sarah nodded and drained her glass. "Mike tried to tell me when you fi rst moved here, but I wasn't ready to hear."

  "He did?"

  "Uh-huh." Sarah smiled a sweet, tipsy smile. "You look beautiful in that dress. Has he seen you in it?"

  "Yes."

  "It's the kind of dress Rosemary would wear."

  "Oh, ducky."

  "Funny me being dressed like this and you like that." She frowned and tipped her head. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe we're closer to our real selves like this than—"

  "God, I don't know, ask Dr. Phil." Vivian snatched Sarah's glass out of her hand, took it with hers to the dining room, refilled both and came back in, not sure Sarah should have any more, but she needed all of her second one. "Cheers."

  Sarah clinked her glass and raised it. "Here's to being full of shit."

  Vivian kept her glass in her lap. She did not care to drink to that, thankyouverymuch, though she noticed Sarah had no trouble at all.

  "You're not going to hurt him, are you?" Sarah indulged a puppy-eyed, fuzzy -focus plea. "He's been through enough."

  "I'm not planning to."
Liar.
It was exactly what she was planning. And guess what, now she could drink to being full of shit openly and honestly, and thank God for that.

  "It's so good at the beginning, isn't it." Sarah put her glass on the coffee table, sighed, and laid her head back.

  "Yep." Vivian didn't want to think about how good, nor did she want inevitably to hear how good it used to be for Sarah and Ben. "When are you leaving?"

  "Soon. I'm suffocating here."

  "Tell me about it. Where will you go?"

  "I want to take Amber and move back to New York." She slid off the couch and started walking around the room, as tall and graceful and slender a sex kitten as there ever was. Vivian could actually picture her enjoying New York. "I was happy there. I had a good life, friends. I danced professionally."

  "You have enough money to live there?"

  "Yes." She picked up a tiny cross -stitch sampler Stellie had done for a miniature frame,
Home Is Where the Heart Is,
which Vivian had cleared out in her original sweep and replaced the day before in a sentimental moment she now regretted. "My grandparents were wealthy. I've been supporting Ben here. And serving him. I can't do that anymore."

  "Have you talked to him?"

  Sarah shook her head and replaced the miniature. "I'm done. I just want out. Of the marriage and of Kettle."

  Vivian put her glass down. Not that she began to be an expert, but for Amber's sake, Sarah should at least try to see if there was anything worth staying for.

  Kind of like Vivian wasn't planning to do with Mike. Shit.

  The back doorbell rang; Sarah recoiled, pressing herself against the wall. "Oh God, if it's Ben looking for me, or—"

  "Relax." Vivian moved past her toward the kitchen. "Who'd think to look for you here?"

  She rounded the corner and saw Erin dimly through the back window, looking strangely mottled and wide -eyed.

  Apparently Vivian was hosting the other Kettle Halloween party tonight.

  She opened the door; Erin ducked her head.

  "Hi, Erin."

  "Can I come in?"

  "Sure." She started to move back; Erin burst into the room as if she were afraid of the dark. Vivian glanced out to make sure there were no signs of Joe in pursuit, then locked the door, turned, and got a good look in the light of the kitchen.

  "Y
our face."
She grabbed Erin's thin arm and held on, wanting to throw up. The bastard. Bruises all along her jaw. Cheeks and forehead that looked as if they'd seen the business side of a cheese grater. "He saw the makeup."

  "Joan called him from the gym."

  "The bitch."

  "He came home before I could wash it off. So he did."

  "With sandpaper."

  "Comet."

  "Oh my God."

  "It's okay." She laughed a weird, manic laugh. "It's all okay now."

  Vivian nodded cautiously. "Joe . . . let you come over?"

  Again the laugh. Vivian frowned. Had she been drinking? Had she snapped? She was acting really strange, even for Erin.

  "He doesn't know."

  The light bulb went on. "You left him? You snuck out?"

  "I walked out. Right out the front door." She laughed, a big

gasping rush of air, laughed again, and Vivian realized what was up. She was terrifi ed.

  "Come on in, honey." She led Erin toward the living room. Erin followed, docile and trusting, hand like ice in Vivian's. "You want a drink? Or hell, you probably need one."

  "Yes. I need one."

  "Come in." She turned the corner and wasn't sure whose face registered more surprise, Sarah's or Erin's.

  "Hi, Sarah."

  "Erin, what . . . your face."

  Erin took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling, as if trying to recall a speech. "Joe did this to me. For years. And my father before that."

  She pulled up her shirt and showed bruises, scars.

  Vivian smiled. Good for her. Good for her.

  Sarah gasped, put her hand to her mouth. Tears gathered, and spilled down her cheeks and over her fi ngers. Predictably, Sarah could even cry tastefully.

  "I didn't know. I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

  "It's okay. It's over now." Erin accepted the glass from Vivian, downed the entire thing, then coughed and gasped, her raw face reddening further. "People drink that on purpose?"

  "Sit." Vivian led her to the couch. "We should—"

  The back doorbell again. The women tensed.

  "I'll check." Vivian got up quietly and peeked down the hall, bracing herself for the sight of Joe about to put his fi st through her window.

  Mike.

  She ran to him and opened the door, storm no longer squeaking after he fi xed it, as he'd fi xed so many things.

  "Hi." She smiled, hating the way she wanted to lie on her back and wag her tail in ecstasy. Hating more that she wanted to invite him in for protection. "I've got company."

  He frowned and cocked his head in that quirky way she adored. "Who?"

  "Sarah and Erin. I don't think we're going to the party."

  "
Sarah's
not going? What about—"

  "No. She's not. I'm not. Erin's not. We're all staying here. Okay?"

  "Can I help?"

  "No. This is girl stuff."

  His eyes narrowed. "Vivian, what—"

  "Look, Mike. I just can't be with you."

  His face froze. "That sounds ominous."

  "We can talk tomorrow."

  "About?"

  "Us. The future. Whatever you want. Not now."

  "Oh, I see. So I have a nice, peaceful night ahead waiting to see if my heart gets trampled?"

  "I didn't plan this."

  "Right." He sighed, scrubbed his hand across his forehead, and gave her a look. "I hate being Mr. Nice Guy."

  She grinned and knew leaving him would probably take twenty years off her life. But staying with him might take thirty. "You can't help it, you were born that way. Now go."

  He leaned in and kissed her, long and hard and thrilling, and she felt guilt and confusion wrapping themselves around her heart and trying to squeeze all the happy, good stuff out.

  "Okay. I'll go." He walked down her steps and crossed her driveway. Her entire being screamed at her to call him back. But that's what she'd always done. Asked for protection, used them for safety. She'd start the whole destructive dependency cycle again. Self -knowledge was power. Right?

  Though tits weren't bad on a cold, dark night.

  She closed the door and strolled, deliberately casual, back into the living room, where the two women stared apprehensively.

  "No more interruptions." Especially if one of them turned out to be Joe. He'd need a night to cool off at least, and Erin would need a good lawyer. Too bad Vivian had put so much effort into pissing off Mr. Combover, Esq., at every turn. Going forward, she might want to see about keeping more bridges unburned.

  "Girls' night only." She started turning out lights. "Party's moving upstairs. We're not home."

  Sarah and Erin giggled and helped her darken the downstairs. Clutching their drinks, they climbed the stairs, into Vivian's room.

  "Okay." Vivian pulled the blinds and put one lamp near her bed on the floor. They sat down around it, faces lit strangely by the low light.

  Her buddies. A desperate housewife and a wacko. Nice.

  "What a sweet dollhouse." Sarah crawled over to it, her tail dragging behind her, picked Emily up, and cupped her gently in her hand. "Was this around when Stellie was here?"

  "Yes." Erin nodded several times. "Vivian and I played with it when we were little."

  "Really?" Sarah looked back and forth between the two women as if this association was impossible to digest. She touched a miniature couch, drew her hand over a little lamp. "Way back then. I was going to be a dancer and a famous scientist."

  "I wanted to be a nurse," Erin said. "Or a social worker."

  Vivian snorted. "I wanted to give the best head this side of the Mississippi."

  Sarah laughed so hard she dropped Emily. "Well, you probably got closest. But I doubt any of us thought we'd end up here tonight, together, in this situation."

  "Oh for God's sake." Vivian drained her glass and fi lled it again. "End up? Life begins at forty, right? I think we have some time left. Here's to fi rst steps."

  Erin held up her empty glass. "To no more Joe."

  "To no more Ben."

  Vivian bit her lip. T
o leaving Mike.
She couldn't say it.

  "Mike's wonderful, Vivian." Sarah spoke dreamily, misunderstanding her silence, and Vivian found herself glad Mike wasn't here to see Sarah drunk and loose, dressed as a sex kitten.