Chapter Five
Beth
The day after our fight, I felt like shit. I knew that it was my fault – Michael was right. He’d provided for me for close to four years, and I had a lot of responsibility to live up to. I decided right then and there that I’d try to be a better fiancée, as practice for being a good wife.
Michael had made it clear to me that he wanted me to stop working as soon as we got married. That morning, I submitted my two weeks’ notice to my job. It wasn’t a big job – it was only part time, and I maybe got fifteen hours a week. But it felt like a big deal symbolically, and I knew Michael would be pleased when I told him what I’d done.
Michael hadn’t spoken to me that morning before he’d left. When I’d called at lunch, his receptionist, Jeanne, told me that he had a bunch of evening meetings off-site. Normally, the news would have upset me. But today it just made me nervous – I wanted things to be perfect by the time he got home, and this gave me just the right amount of time that I needed to impress my fiancé once again.
I went to the salon and got my hair done – new highlights – as well as a pink manicure and matching pedi. Before Michael and I had gotten together, I’d had kind of a wild side: I’d liked dyed hair and wild colors on my hands and feet. But Michael liked traditional, quiet girls and I wanted more than anything to show him that I was ready for that kind of life. I knew that to Michael, marriage wasn’t just a piece of paper. We’d already talked and agreed that no matter what, we wouldn’t get a divorce or separate, even for a trial period. Michael wanted a traditional life – he wanted me to stay home all day with our kids, cooking and cleaning and making myself look perfect and presentable.
I wanted him to know that I was serious about committing to our life together. When I got home from the salon, I called Heather. We had our differences when it came to pleasing men, but there was no one like Heather who knew how to make a man happy…if only temporarily.
“I’ll be right over,” Heather promised on the phone. “This is gonna be fun!”
“I know,” I said. “We haven’t had a girls’ night in forever.”
“When is Michael getting home?”
I sighed. “Late,” I said. “I mean, later than usual. Maybe eight or nine. I want to have dinner warm in the oven by the time he gets here.”
When Heather and I hung up, I went into the living room and vacuumed again until the lines in the carpet were as clean as razor cuts. I was satisfied with my work. Growing up, I’d always been kind of a messy person. But I knew that as an adult, I’d have to be neat as a pin in order to make my future husband happy.
Heather knocked on the door and I let her in with a squeal. We hugged and danced around until I pulled her in the kitchen and shoved my arsenal of cookbooks under her nose.
“What should I make?” I flipped through an elaborate dessert cookbook that featured tiny little custard dishes and petit fours. “Michael doesn’t like any of this fussy stuff – at least, that’s what he says. But he always eats the dessert I make.”
Heather frowned. “What’s his favorite?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “Like I said, he won’t tell me.”
“What about cheesecake? Men love cheesecake,” Heather opined. “I made one for Jay and he ate like, half of the thing in one sitting.”
“Holy shit,” I said. “That’s a great idea.”
“It’s easy, too,” Heather said. She walked across the kitchen floor and pulled open the fridge. “You’ve got everything,” she added. “Even the lemon zest!”
Twenty minutes later, I carefully slid the warm cheesecake into the oven. I beamed, proud of my work.
“This was a great idea,” I gushed to Heather. “Thanks again.”
Heather smirked, obviously smug. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I hope that’s not what you’re planning on wearing when he comes home?”
I glanced down and then burst into laughter. I was still wearing the stained jeans and sweatshirt that I’d thrown on in the morning as soon as I’d woken up.
“God, no,” I said. “Come upstairs and help me pick an outfit?”
Heather nodded. She looked relieved – I could tell that picking out clothes was much more fun for her than helping me with cooking. I already had Michael’s other favorite dishes (cabernet pot roast and garlic mashed potatoes) cooking in slow cookers, and the kitchen smelled heavenly. I figured that the cheesecake would be a perfect way to top off the little “I’m sorry” meal when he got home.
“I feel so bad about our fight last night,” I complained as I shrugged off my old clothes and slipped into the dress Heather was holding up. “Wow, this is tight,” I added, sucking in my breath and turning around. “Zip me up?”
Heather laughed. “God, I haven’t seen you wear this dress in years,” she said. She glanced at me with wide eyes. “You look great, Beth.”
I blushed. “Thanks,” I told her. I knew Heather would always be honest with me about things like clothes.
“And don’t worry about your fight,” Heather said. “You guys are engaged – I read somewhere that being engaged is the most stressful part of a relationship. Well, besides the first year of marriage. And besides the first year you have your second kid.”
I rolled my eyes. “God, way to make me look forward to the future,” I said sarcastically. “I can’t wait for that.”
Heather flopped on the bed, her hair spreading out like a fan. “I’m kind of jealous,” Heather admitted. “I mean, not because I want to get married. But you just have things figured out,” she added. “I mean, you know everything you want in life. You know that you want three kids, and a house in the suburbs. And you know Michael will be able to give you all of that – hell, he probably has the money now, you know?”
I sighed. “I do know,” I said softly. “But sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. Sometimes I wonder if it’s really going to make me happy.”
“Of course it will,” Heather said. “You and Michael are on the same page!” I rolled my eyes and Heather laughed. “Don’t do that,” she said. “I know you think your relationship doesn’t have any passion, but trust me – things are better this way. It’s better for you if everything is so even and calm all the time.”
I frowned. “Things weren’t exactly calm last night,” I said.
“Well, he came home drunk,” Heather replied. “You told me that’s really unusual.”
I nodded. “Michael barely drinks.” Just as I was about to start talking about how hurt I’d felt, the doorbell rang.
“Expecting someone?” Heather frowned.
My heart skipped a beat. “No,” I said slowly. “Only Michael. And he won’t be home for hours.” I checked my watch. “It’s only six-thirty.”
“You guys,” Heather said with a grin. “I bet he’s doing the same thing you’re doing! I bet he feels bad about the fight, and he sent you flowers!”
“God, really?” I blushed. “Michael’s never done anything like that!”
The doorbell rang again, followed by a heavy pounding on the door.
“I bet the flower guy just really wants to get home,” I said. I couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across my face. I couldn’t believe that Michael had finally done something sweet and romantic – just like I’d been asking for.
“Go get the door!” Heather playfully swatted the air in my direction. “And don’t freak out if the flower guy’s eyes fall out of his head. The way your tits look in that dress is incredible!”
“Oh, stop,” I said as I waved my hand through the air. “It’s nothing.” As I jogged downstairs and towards the front door, the excitement blossomed in my chest like a flower.
Yanking open the door, I smiled. “Hi!” I chirped.
My smile vanished as soon as I realized there was no flower guy on the other side.
Two cops were standing there. They were clutching their patrol hats to their chests, and they both looked crestfallen.
“Are you Beth Wilson?”
I nodded slowly.
“Ms. Wilson, I’m afraid I have some bad news about your fiancé, Michael Bennett,” one of the cops said. “May I come inside?”
That was the last thing I heard before I fainted.