“What if I said this is my apartment?” he asks and holds up his key. “And we’re neighbors.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” My tone is harsher than I intend as I open the door to the apartment. But this week has to stop pulling punches.
“You’re feistier than I recall.” He winks. “I like it.” He peers into my doorway and pauses. “You don’t have any decorations up. With how your sister is, I imagined your place would be a winter wonderland with a counter filled with treats and fake presents so high you can’t see the bottom or the tree. Surely, you have an elf apron lying around here somewhere,” he jokes but the words are tiny swords, stabbing me everywhere with pin pricks.
“Yeah,” I go along with it. “Somewhere,” my voice cracks but I clear it, pretending it’s not tears lodging in my esophagus.
“Okay, well I am on nights, so I need a shower and to get to work. I’m calling the physio clinic for you. You clearly can’t be trusted. You have tomorrow off, eh? I’ll see if Linnie can squeeze you in. Get some rest.” He points and closes the door, leaving me stunned.
I go inside and close the door and walk into my room to spend New Year’s in bed. It’s a terrible way to occupy the evening, but at least I’m not at that stupid murder mystery Rod was forcing me to go to.
Chapter 7
December 31
“Hey, babe, are you going to start getting ready? We have to leave in an hour. And have you seen my cufflinks?” Rod calls from the en suite bathroom.
“They’re in my jewelry bowl on the counter, I cleaned them last week,” I say as I walk into the master bedroom closet. My mind is blank on why I’m in here or where we are going.
It takes a second for the glittery flapper dress in the corner to catch my eye and remind me it’s time for the party. The New Year’s Eve party.
This week has flown by with family visits and dinners and pretending I believe the lies my husband is telling.
And tonight is the culmination of this hellish holiday week, a roaring twenties murder-mystery night at Rod’s client’s house. The party where Brent and Elaine will also be. The party I’ve tried to get out of with three headaches, two stomach aches, and one absolute refusal. But each time I tried to cancel, Rod brought up the problematic situation a murder mystery presents. You can’t bail once you have been given a character or you ruin the entire party for everyone. The hosts selected twelve people they knew would show up. People without kids or compromised immune systems, so there was no chance of anyone skipping out last minute. He also rubbed in my face that avoiding Elaine would let her win. She would be getting what she wanted, strain in our marriage.
Begrudgingly, I pull the dress from the hanger and slide it on, noticing it’s smaller than before. Or I’m bigger. Fucking fabulous. This is exactly what I need right now. A sausage casing for a dress.
I slump down onto the bench in the middle of the closet, trying not to breathe too deeply so as not to tear it and send glittery shrapnel everywhere. I’m certain this week can’t get worse. Dropping my head, I pick up my phone from the dresser and Facetime Shawnee.
“Hey, girl,” she says and smiles wide. She’s stunning, ready to go out with her group of singletons.
“I know you girls are leaving soon, but can you tell me if I look like a heifer in this dress?” I bat my lashes and give her a pouty face. “Pretty please.”
“I thought you wanted to talk about leaving Rod,” she says and keeps her voice low.
“Can we do this tomorrow? He said he’s going into the office for the day. I was planning on snooping through his things then,” I say in a quiet tone and peer out the door to ensure he’s still in the bathroom at the far side of the enormous room.
“Fine, but starting tomorrow we bust his ass,” she says and points a brightly colored fingernail at me. “You are leaving that man. We are not doing this again.”
She isn’t giving up this time.
“I promise. Now am I a heifer or not?”
“Listen, we both know I’ll never say any woman is a heifer unless we’re talking about that tramp Elaine. Let me see the dress and I’ll help fix whatever you’re going on about.”
Lifting the phone, I stand and hold it so she can see me in my floor-length mirror. “It’s tight as hell.”
“It’s sexy. You just need to take off that old-lady underwear. I see the lines. And put on some Spanx. No one is wearing a form-fitting, cream-colored sequin Gatsby dress without Spanx. Not even the skinniest of girls.” She says it as if I ought to have known that. It’s clearly common sense.
Turning in the pale dress, I grimace at the underwear lines. “Right.”
“I’ve gained four pounds too. I know how you feel right now.” Shawnee holds her phone so I can see her body. There is no four pounds. She’s delusional and as gorgeous as ever. Her flawless dark skin ignites the silvery-pink off-the-shoulder cocktail dress with plaits in the short skirt.
“You’re so beautiful,” I gush and drag off my underwear, sighing at the reflection as if it has somehow become worse. “I want to be disappointed that the dress doesn’t fit but it’s not surprising. This month has been brutal.”
“I know. London was horrific. So much pub food and beer and I couldn’t say no.” She closes her eyes and confesses, “And I had two-cream teas with scones the size of my face.”
“God, I’d eat that right now, in this closet, without an ounce of self-deprecating hatred. This is why I’m never going to be skinny.”
“Stop. December is insane.” She does the friend thing. “No one loses weight on the holidays.”
“Don’t I know it. We started with our office holiday party. Then Hanukkah with Simone,”
“Simone from work?”
“Yeah, while you were in London. And then Christmas Eve at my sister’s drinking all the eggnog and Christmas-morning eggs Benedict.” The list of disgraces is making me feel worse.
“Don’t forget the double meals. Boxing Day lunch at my parents’ place and then dinner at your parents’ house.” She points at me. “I was full for two days after that.”
“And then Rod’s parents’ house for a second turkey dinner two nights ago. Not to mention, I’ve lived off wine, baking, and stocking chocolates for the last three days. In fact, I can’t recall the last time I was hungry.” I almost say no wonder Rod is cheating but I can’t. It’s not a joking matter, nor one I can take lightly.
Noise behind her comes through the phone and fills my large closet. “The girls are here. You’re sexy. Rock that dress. I’ll see you tomorrow, eh?”
“Okay. Come for lunch. We’ll have salad.” I laugh and blow a kiss. She catches it and winks.
The call ends and I’m a bit disgusted and a lot disappointed. I make a resolution to lose twenty pounds as I remove the dress.
It takes effort but I manage to drag on some Spanx and pull the dress back on. It slides over my body perfectly now, but the Spanx means no eating or drinking, and peeing is only done when it’s an absolute necessity.