Chapter Six
“Come on in,” Gayle said when her mother knocked on her bedroom door at nine-thirty. She was standing in front of the full-length mirror she’d had her whole life, marveling at the stranger who seemed to be peering back at her from its reflective depths. She didn’t turn to face Trudie, just kept smoothing her hands over her seemingly non-existent hips in the silly, expensive designer dress she’d bought the night before, after her facial and massage.
It was made of a smooth, silvery material with miniscule beading that reflected the light and left her shoulders, upper chest and a long expanse of her leg exposed in a way she hadn’t really taken into account when she’d swooped into the downtown boutique and said she needed something ‘for a night out dancing’.
The sales woman had taken a long, head-to-toe look at her and pulled a single dress from a rack. When she’d held it out so Gayle could try it on, she’d been so damn relieved this was going to be a relatively painless process, she’d barely looked at herself in the dressing room mirror. The sales woman had sucked in a breath when Gayle had pulled back the heavy velvet curtain to get an opinion. “What?”’ she’d asked, tugging at the clingy fabric. “Is it awful?”
“No. Quite the opposite.” She’d encouraged Gayle to step out into the room. “You look incredible in it. You must work out.”
“Yes, well…” Gayle had tugged at her scraggly ponytail and noted in the gigantic mirror that her face looked exactly like it had been loofahed by a coral reef. “God,” she’d said, covering her cheeks with her hands.
“Exactly,” the sales woman had said, pulling a shimmery shawl from another rack and draping it across Gayle’s bare shoulders. “You’re exquisite.”
But Gayle had barely taken in the dress, or rather, the lack of it. She’d felt shaky and all kinds of wrong. The rest of the staff and a couple of fellow shoppers had gathered around and made many ooing and ahing noises. She’d purchased it, the shawl and a pair of admittedly beautiful high heels in the same color, with silvery ribbons she would tie around her ankles—all of it a pure, fifteen-minute impulse-slash-guilt buy. She couldn’t even recall what the whole shebang had cost her, she’d been so eager to get the hell out of there.
“Wow,” her mother said with a whistle. “You are stunning.”
“I’m practically naked is what I fucking well am.” She flopped onto the bed, tears threatening, arms crossed over the sparkly bodice.
“So?” Trudie took her hand and pulled her back to her feet. “All that exercise really shows.”
“Everything shows, Mama,” she whined, turning to stare at herself, surprised all over again when the stranger looked back at her. She’d had her brown hair touched up with a few reddish highlights, and cut to reduce the split ends she’d let gather for the years since she’d last darkened the door of a salon. It dropped smooth and straight past her shoulders. She pulled it back, relieved to see she did, indeed, seem to still be in this room, in this slutty dress.
“Calm down,” Trudie said, pulling her hand away so her hair fell down her back. “Look at me.” She took Gayle’s hands in hers and held on tight. Ever the dutiful daughter, Gayle met her gaze. “This is what you need. You have to get out from under the frumpy hair, sterile business suits, boring shoes. You used to be fun, remember?”
“I also used to be married. I also used to be a—”
Trudie frowned but tightened her hold on Gayle’s hands. “You know what I mean. Stop fighting me on this. I’m proud of you, honey. So very proud. You’ve done the worst thing any woman should have to do—you’ve buried everything you loved about your life. But it’s not coming back. It’s time…” She gave Gayle’s hands one last squeeze and let go. “You’re only thirty-six years old. You owe it to yourself to move past this, just a little. I don’t mean to forget. You’ll never do that.” She tucked a thick lock of Gayle’s hair behind her left ear and cupped her chin. “I’ll never forget them either, so I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, but I do know you are still alive. And you deserve to enjoy your life again.”
Gayle sniffled, thankful the ubiquitous tears seemed to be dormant at the moment. A relief on one level, but alarming on another. With a long exhalation, she turned back to look at herself, running her hands down the shiny material. “I look okay?” She turned left, then right, noting that she was indeed wearing this dress like a damn runway model. “I had no idea I’d lost so much weight.”
Trudie grabbed a makeup brush and came at her. “Here, let me.”
“Mama, I’m fine.” She tried to duck away, perfectly happy with her usual minimal foundation and mascara makeup regimen.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is a dance club, not the damn beer warehouse. Sit. Be quiet. Let me work.”
Gayle did, and when her mother allowed her to look at herself again, she gasped. “Jesus, Mama.” Her eyes were frosty shadowed, lined with smudgy kohl, framed by black lashes. Her high cheekbones were bronzed perfectly. The rest of her skin had a glowing, natural-looking tone. “Fine.” She grabbed a brush, but Trudie snatched it away from her.
“Nope. You’re perfect. Stop fiddling. Where are your shoes?”
“There.” Gayle pointed to the shoebox on the bed. Trudie pulled them out, making her low, admiring whistle again. Gayle rolled her eyes, but took the shoes and slid her feet into them. They were, without a doubt, perfect with the dress. And she figured wearing sexy high heels would be like riding a bike—Ethan used to love it when she dressed up and wore things like this on their many dates all around the world.
But here she was, back in her stodgy, mid-west Cape Cod-style childhood home, putting on sexy shoes, about to go out and ‘live her life’, whatever the hell that meant. She closed her eyes for a split second, waiting for the hot wave of anger to pass. It did, as it always did, so she put on the other shoe, then rose slowly, alarmed at the height of the things for a few seconds until she got her equilibrium back.
“Oh, Gayle,” her mother sighed behind her.
“Do not cry, Mama. I’ve made it almost four whole hours without crying and I am not about to start now.”
“I won’t, I won’t.”
She took another long look at herself, noting the way the material shimmered every time she moved even a little. Her arms and legs were slim and toned. What remained of her cleavage still seemed a bit too exposed, but she shrugged, figuring if she were going to do this, she was going to do it right. Saying a tiny mental thanks to Evelyn for suggesting this, along with her usual simultaneous curse and declaration of love to her dead husband, she headed downstairs to meet the ride share car she’d called.
“Don’t forget this!” Her mother ran down the steps and held out something.
“I’ve got my bag, ID and a credit card plus a little cash and lipstick. I think I’m good.”
But Trudie just waved the tiny zippered pouch at her with a stern expression on her face.
“Go on. It’s just a few extras you might need. I never go out without them.”
With a sigh, figuring it was a packet of mints and a comb or something, Gayle grabbed it. A familiar yet odd-sounding crinkle from inside the thing hit her ear, making her frown and unzip it. “Mama. Seriously.” She pulled out a short strip of condoms, a tiny toothbrush with a matching miniscule tube of paste and a fresh pair of panties. “You are certifiable.”
Trudie just grinned and shrugged.
“Wait. You said you never go anywhere without this stuff?”
Her mother’s grin widened and her eyes twinkled—and not in a grandmotherly way. “I spend a lot of time on the road at book events, you know. And I am not some kind of a celibate saint.”
“Oookay, please stop talking now.” Her phone beeped, indicating her ride was waiting. She shoved the bizarre collection of stuff into the pouch and stuck it in her bag. “I’m not going to need condoms, that much I can guarantee.” The thought of anyone—any man—touching her, kissing her, holding her who was not her dead husband made her mildly nauseated, until a quick flash of memory of a young man on a platform, wearing a hard hat and the world’s sexiest grin on his face, made her shiver and her face flush. “Shit. This is nuts.”
“Go on. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Gayle glared at her slight, still pretty mother for a few seconds then blew her a kiss and headed out of the door into the still hot night. As she sat in the passenger seat, worrying the space on her left ring finger where her platinum band had rested for not long enough, she made a decision. Right before the driver pulled up to the front of the teeming sidewalk in front of the club, she plucked the thin chain from her purse and re-fastened it behind her neck. The weight of Ethan’s ring dangled right below the dip between her collarbones, its heavy warmth giving her comfort. Before she got out, she thanked the driver, an older woman who’d been happy not to chat, thank God, and touched her fingertips to the ring, sensing the imagined, residual warmth of his skin.
“There you are…holy shitballs, sister, you look incredible!” Evelyn grabbed her arm and hustled her around the long line of people—most of them at least fifteen years younger than she was. She barely had time to register the hate daggers from the crowd before Evelyn had batted her eyelashes at the door guardian and they were ushered inside ahead of everyone else.
The noise, sights and sounds nearly knocked her back on her butt. Not that she wasn’t familiar with them. She was. But it had been years since she’d been in a place like this one. It rose three stories, with full balconies, and dancing girls and guys in weird, clear tube-like things that rose and fell from somewhere so high up she couldn’t even see it.
It smelled a lot like Abercrombie and Fitch mixed with pot smoke and was freezing cold where she stood. The main bar was a raised platform in what looked to be the smack middle of the gigantic dance floor, but she was willing to bet there were satellites of it on every balcony. A place like this charged triple for drinks and made weak-ass pours so patrons were better off with a beer, or wine, or…
“Martinis!” Evelyn yelled in her ear. “I know I need one. Come on. I reserved us a table upstairs, so we can people watch for a while.”
Gayle nodded, still somewhat awed by the chest-pounding beat and the absolute swarm of beautiful young people all around her. It was, in a word, breathtaking—and yet depressing at the same time.
As she followed her friend around the outside of the dance floor to a set of spiral stairs up, she saw several half-hidden corridors under the steps and farther behind, all with slightly waving light velvet curtains. At one point, someone lifted a side and she saw a couple making out. Her face reddened and her scalp tingled at the sight until Evelyn poked her shoulder and motioned upwards. She nodded and minded her own business until she saw the tiny table with the RESERVED card and two dirty martinis with a bonus bowl of olives on the side.
“You went all out,” she shouted over the noise.
Evelyn nodded, handed her one and motioned to the seats. Gayle sat, clinked glasses with her friend, sipped and trained her gaze downward. There was no use pretending they could have a real conversation amidst the noise, so they drank two martinis each and leaned over the railing, taking in the sights. At one point, a waitress brought them two shot glasses of clear liquid and told them the men across the room had paid for them. Gayle flushed hot when the men—handsome, and very young—waved at her and Evelyn.
“Hell to the yeah.” Evelyn knocked hers back and swiped at her lips. Gayle studied her friend, using the assistance of two stiff drinks to give her courage.
“What is wrong with you, anyway?” She sniffed the shot glass and shivered. Tequila. No way. Not after two gin martinis, anyway. She placed the glass on the table between them and leaned closer to her friend, grabbing her hand and yanking her down so the woman could hear her. “Hey. You. What’s wrong?”
Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head so hard, her casual up-do came loose, sending strands of blonde hair cascading down to her shoulders. “I’m not talking about it.”
“The hell you’re not!” Gayle knew she was hollering, but the thought that she might not be the saddest damn person in the room only added to her buzz. She kept a tight hold on Evelyn’s hand as she motioned for a passing waiter. “Water,” she demanded, pointing to herself and her companion.
When Evelyn attempted to pull away, Gayle tugged her closer until their faces were almost touching over the small table. “Talk to me, woman.”
Her friend sighed and looked down at their joined hands. Gayle let her go with a frown.
“I had another miscarriage,” she said.
“Another?” Gayle nodded thanks for the two room-temperature water bottles plunked in front of them. She opened them both and took Evelyn’s hand again, so she could put hers in it. “Wait. Drink some of this first.”
Evelyn sipped. Gayle tipped the bottom of the bottle up until the other woman took a real drink. She took a long gulp of her own, trying to recall if she knew Evelyn and Austin wanted more kids. Rose, their daughter, was almost four, so she supposed it was time. She put the lid back on both their bottles and leaned forward again, motioning so Evelyn would do the same. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there were…others before. How awful for you.”
“Yes, well….” Evelyn fiddled with her wedding ring, her earring, her necklace and kept her gaze averted. “You do know that Rose is… I mean, Ross and I…um…”
Gayle held up a hand. “I get it. It’s complicated. But Ross found someone and he’s happy as a pig in shit, best I can tell.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across her friend’s face. “Yes. He has and we’re really happy for him.” She slumped back, letting her long legs, just as exposed as Gayle’s, sprawl out in front of her. Gayle frowned at a couple of guys standing nearby, eyeballing them. “That’s kind of the problem, I think. I really want to have Austin’s child, you know? I mean, he’s never acted any other way but as Rose’s father. I don’t know. I’m too old for this, anyway. I’m sure it’s nature’s helpful way of reminding me.”
Gayle sipped some more, gathering her thoughts. Talk of babies and children was something she avoided like the plague, but her friend was obviously miserable and she was due some time on this side of the sympathy continuum. “So, how many have you had?”
“Three,” Evelyn said, sipping and looking down onto the crowd.
“What?” Gayle leaned closer, not sure she’d heard correctly. “Wait, how old are you anyway?”
“Thirty-five.”
“That’s not too old. Please.” She waved a hand, an unwelcome sensation of anger creeping up her spine. “They were early ones, I assume.”
Evelyn glanced over at her, her eyes swimming again. She swiped at them, then attempted to put her hair back up, which drew the gaze of several men. Evelyn was a tall, curvy beauty, with a thick mane of blonde hair, deep blue eyes and full lips. It was no wonder she was getting attention. “This last one…” She stopped and made a face. “I guess it was about four months. Messy. Had to go to the outpatient clinic for a…a…”
“My God,” Gayle yelped, grabbing her friend’s hand. “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve gone with you.”
Evelyn’s face fell. “We didn’t tell anyone. Austin was with me. It was fine.” She met Gayle’s eyes. “And I wasn’t about to subject you, of all people, to my disaster.”
“I’m not… That’s bullshit, okay?” Anger flared again, hot and choking. “I’m not some kind of fragile waif, you know. If anything, I’ve been there, done it. I can handle it. And I want you to ask for my help, if you need it.”
A single tear slid down Evelyn’s face. Gayle reached over and wiped it away with an encouraging smile. “I’m sorry. I know how hard this is.”
“I know you do.” Evelyn looked away from her. “I think that guy over there is staring right at you,” she whispered. “Look. To my right.”
“No,” Gayle said, determined not to look even as she did. The man was indeed staring straight at her, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to place her. She treated him to a light smile, then focused back on her friend. “I had four of them,” she said. Evelyn’s eyes widened.
“Four? Four miscarriages? Jesus, Gayle. I had no idea.”
“No one does, except Ethan, of course, and he isn’t telling anyone.”
Evelyn frowned at her, but Gayle grinned, shocked and yet pleased she’d managed a tiny joke. She patted Evelyn’s arm then leaned over the railing, watching the roil and pulse of bodies below them. She put her chin on her hands, realizing the horror of those years had been entirely forgotten, superseded by the worse one that had come later. But the memory of her frustration at her body’s seeming lack of basic female functionality filled her mind now. She pushed against Evelyn’s shoulder with her own.
“You’ll be fine. Don’t stop trying.”
Evelyn made a snorting noise and finished off her water. “Austin’s barely talking to me right now. He says I’m too obsessed with it. Keeps telling me if I’d just ‘relax’ everything would be fine. Like he can understand this. We had a huge fight before he left. I probably said some things I shouldn’t have. Shit.” She sighed and wiped another tear off her face.
“Yeah. They don’t get it at all. No matter how great they are in other ways.” She shoulder-bumped her friend once more. “And he’s pretty great. Don’t take it for granted.”
Evelyn nodded. “I know. You’re right. I should just chill out about it.”
“Probably.” She motioned for the waitress again. “I’m going to have more water, then I’m going to dance.” She didn’t really want to, but it seemed silly not to, since they were both dressed for it and it actually looked kind of fun down there in the scrum.
Evelyn sat back again and finished her water. “I’m sorry to be a buzz kill.”
A laugh burst out of Gayle, surprising her and drawing the eye of the mystery man again. He lifted a dark eyebrow and leaned back against a wall-height bar. She watched him, surprised at herself, but unable to stop. Their second water bottles arrived, along with two more clear liquor shots. Gayle frowned at the man. He shrugged, sipped from a brown beer bottle and turned away from her.
What the hell, why not?
She handed Evelyn one of the shot glasses and held hers up. “Here’s to me not being the buzz kill for a change. It’s a relief, I assure you.”
Evelyn met her grin and her glass and they knocked back the booze. Gayle smiled at the sensation of the ice-cold vodka laced with a bit of lemon.
“That was good,” Evelyn said, plunking the glass upside down on the table between them.
“Yeah, it was some expensive vodka. I can tell. Tequila is for college kids.”
Evelyn sat up straighter and her eyes were shining, but not with tears this time. “Speaking of kids, I say we show the ones down there how this shit is done, my friend.” She rose, pulling the gaze of half a dozen men as if she were a giant, female-shaped magnet.
Gayle smiled and joined her, doing her own dude-eyeball-magnet thing. She linked her arm in Evelyn’s and they headed for the spiral stairs. “I haven’t been dancing in forever,” she confessed to her friend.
Evelyn patted her hand, then lead the way down the steps. “Me neither,” she said once Gayle was standing next to her once more. “But I hear it’s like riding a bike,” she said, towing Gayle toward the dance floor. “Or sex.” Evelyn’s grin was wide and wicked. Gayle shivered again, recalling the explicit scene of near-sex she’d witnessed behind the curtain under the steps earlier.
Evelyn turned and backed into the undulating group of dancers, wigging her hips and crooking both her index fingers. “Come on,” she mouthed. The music shifted from loud and annoying to louder and sexy. Gayle sighed and dove into her new life, wondering just how this whole thing might turn out and not really caring at the same time.