Chapter Eight #2
He doesn’t initiate sex as often. As Teresa thought about it, she realized they hadn’t been having sex as often as they used to.
Frank had turned to her less in bed. It was a gradual sliding away, so subtle as to be almost imperceptible, but it occurred to Teresa that she and Frank hadn’t made love in over a month.
Sure, they had two babies who took up her time and energy.
And Frank wasn’t home as much these days.
But their infrequent sex wasn’t a sure sign he was having sex with someone else.
Frustrated, Teresa threw down the stupid magazine. She thought about it over and over, yet she still felt clueless. She was missing something.
Ronnie took one last drag on her Kool menthol cigarette, blew out the smoke, and put it out in the empty can of Fresca stuck in the sand. Teresa tried not to breathe in the noxious fumes, thankful the wind was blowing in the opposite direction. She hated smoke.
Ronnie glanced over at her with a serious look on her face. “Teresa, honey, I want to tell you something, but please don’t get mad, okay?”
Teresa nodded, already worried about what Ronnie might say. Ronnie could shoot her mouth off one moment with a brutal honesty that hurt Teresa’s feelings then, in the next second, could be so compassionate. She had a reputation for being quite direct, something Teresa both feared and admired.
“Teresa, you know I love you, honey. But you’re getting really big. It's not healthy. And it's not flattering.”
Teresa stared at Ronnie, wide-eyed. Okay, wow. That’s definitely blunt.
Ronnie gave Teresa a gentle smile. “Have you thought about maybe trying Weight Watchers? Lots of women have success with it.” Her voice was kinder and quieter than the biting tone of a moment ago.
Teresa knew how popular Weight Watchers was but doubted that Ronnie had any firsthand experience with it. Ronnie had been born with that lithe body, and Teresa had never seen her struggle with an extra pound a day in her life.
“I know. I’m trying. I really am. But it’s difficult. Frank is hardly ever home these days. I try to make a healthy dinner, but when he doesn’t come home, I eat more and more.”
Teresa bit her lip. The sound of the waves lapped in the background.
Should I tell her more? She knew she could trust Ronnie.
She just wasn’t sure she wanted to give voice to her fears.
But if she was going to confide in anyone, it would be Ronnie.
Besides being cousins, they’d been close friends since they were young girls.
They’d attended Catholic school together and were bridesmaids in each other’s weddings.
Ronnie had been there for Teresa when her father, Sergio, died, and Teresa had been there for Ronnie when her marriage had fallen apart.
She couldn’t believe she was going to admit this to Ronnie, given her cousin’s rocky marital history, but she had to tell someone. “I’m actually scared Frank may be straying.”
Ronnie sat bolt upright in her beach chair and dropped her reflector in her lap. “What? Are you serious? No. That bastard. What makes you think that?”
“He’s often going out after work. A few times a week. And even on weekends, he wants to go down to the boat club, and he stays for hours. I’m worried maybe there’s a woman there that he’s having an affair with.” Teresa nervously wrung her hands together in her lap.
“Maybe he’s really just out on that boat. You said he’s always working on it. I sure hope he’s not with another woman there.”
“What were the signs—you know, with Charlie?” Teresa asked sheepishly, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Oh, the usual. Coming home late from work, not paying enough attention to me, not having as much sex, sneaking in late into the evening, always making excuses to be away from home.”
Teresa felt her body stiffen. Ronnie was describing exactly what was going on with Frank. Stay calm. This doesn’t mean he’s actually cheating. All of this could be a coincidence.
“And then the lying started. Looking back now, it was so obvious. I don’t know how I missed it. People who lie overcompensate, you know? He started making up shit.” Ronnie looked out onto the water as if she were watching a scene unfolding and said with disgust, “Telltale signs of a cheater.”
Teresa glanced at the foam left on the sand from the last wave that had washed up on the beach.
Her head was swimming with thoughts. Oh my God.
Is my weight driving Frank away? She didn’t think that had anything to do with Frank’s behavior.
He’d given no indication that her full-size figure mattered to him or made comments about her weight gain.
But Teresa wondered if perhaps deep down, it bothered him.
She looked over at Ronnie again and gathered her nerve. “Do you think my getting heavy could make him stray?” Teresa hated asking this.
“I don’t know. I hope not, but men are so strange.
” Ronnie shook her head. “But even more reason to lose the weight, sweetie. Take it from me. Hell, I’m skinny, and Charlie cheated on me and left me.
But I’m not comparing Frank to Charlie. My husband was a loser.
Left me for one of my friends, and now I’m alone with three friggin’ kids.
Well, you know the story,” she said, lifting her hand and swatting it through the air.
Teresa knew the story. So did everyone else in their extended family, at Shore Beach, and probably in all New Rochelle.
Not that Teresa blamed Ronnie. Charlie was a loser.
Teresa’s heart broke for Ronnie and those kids.
It did. But Ronnie’s grief and loss had hardened her in a way Teresa found even more tragic, in the long run, than Charlie’s leaving.
It was like Ronnie lost not only her husband but also her optimism and hope.
Yes, Ronnie still had her figure, but inside, she seemed broken.
Teresa prayed that would never happen to her.
She would rather be fat and hopeful than bitter.
Of course, what Teresa really wanted was to be happy.
And to be happy, she needed to stay hopeful that her marriage wasn’t falling apart and she and Frank could find their way back to each other.
On the way home from the beach, Teresa glanced in the rearview mirror at her babies, blissfully napping in the back seat, spent from a day at the beach.
With the volume low, she turned on the radio, and Frank Sinatra’s “Ebb Tide” filled the car.
It hit her straight in the heart, that song she loved so much, the one she and Frank had chosen as their wedding song.
Images flooded her memory—Frank and her dancing, his eyes shining as he held her in his arms. The music, Sinatra’s soothing voice, the images of Frank.
They brought a wave of profound loneliness.
She grabbed the steering wheel, biting her lip to not let out a cry.
The song reminded her of a time when they’d been so happy that the world felt like it belonged to them and everyone else just happened to be living in it.
As a wedding favor, they gave guests candy-coated almonds in a little linen pouch with Frank and Teresa’s initials on it, in keeping with the Italian tradition that life ahead would be both bitter and sweet.
Little had she known how fitting that gesture would be and how much it would describe her marriage and life with Frank.