Chapter 2
The first thing Mary noticed when she returned home after lunch was Dean’s glass from the night before sitting on the coffee table. It was where he always left his cups if he’d had a drink while watching television. Usually, seeing the glass there didn’t bother her, but today it infuriated her. She snatched it up and slammed it into the top rack of the dishwasher. After returning to the living room with a damp cloth, she scrubbed the ring the glass had left on the wood with so much force her knuckles turned red. She was his wife, not his maid, for Pete’s sake.
She collapsed on the couch, wishing she’d never had lunch with Darbi today. Their conversation had spoiled her mood. Her cousin’s crazy story about Mulligan magic had forced Mary to think about how unhappy she really was, something she tried hard not to think about. And what was with that story? Did Darbi really believe it, or had it been her attempt at a joke? Driving home, Mary had thought about calling Jacqui to ask if she’d noticed any strange behavior in her wife, but Jacqui already had so much on her mind with the store that Mary didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily. She’d keep an eye on Darbi, and if she noticed anything else that seemed off, she’d talk to Jacqui about it.
The People magazine with the picture of Liz on the cover rested on the arm of the sofa. Mary picked it up and turned to the article. She’d read it so many times by now that she practically had it memorized. Now as she read, she substituted her own name for Liz’s. When she reached the end, she had a huge grin on her face, wishing somehow, some way, the nonsense Darbi had spewed at lunch were true. She pictured herself sitting behind the anchor desk, Kendra and Dean in the studio, watching her with riveted attention. When the news ended, the three of them would go to dinner together. Of course they’d get the best table in the restaurant, and people would stop by to ask Mary to be in pictures with them.
The garage door rumbled open. Seconds later, Dean rushed through the breezeway into the living room. He held his tie and a small white bag in one hand and unfastened the buttons of his untucked dress shirt with the other. Pausing in front of the couch, he handed her the bag. “Went to Davio’s for lunch and snagged you a couple of popovers.”
She stuck her nose in the bag and took a deep breath in, almost tasting the buttery, eggy flavor. She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into one. “How was your day?”
Dean swayed from side to side. “Long.”
“I had lunch with Darbi. You’ll never believe ...”
His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket, looking at the screen. “Sorry, been waiting for this call.” He walked toward the stairway. “Murph, my man.” Before he’d made it to the top step and out of earshot, he said, “What time are we teeing off Saturday?”
He returned wearing black wind pants and a blue Addison Heights Golf Club quarter-zip pullover. Without saying a word, he raced by Mary toward the backyard, where he’d installed a putting green years ago. She felt a hollowness in her chest, wishing he had taken a moment to ask about her day. She wanted him to be interested in her life. Then again, nothing about it was interesting lately. At least today she could tell him about Darbi’s bizarre behavior. We’ll talk at dinner, she thought as she started to cook. When the pasta was ready, she stepped onto the deck and called Dean’s name. “Time to eat.”
He held up his index finger, bent at the waist, and struck the ball with his putter. The ball skirted to the right of the hole. He whacked his club on the ground and looked up at Mary. “I’ll be a few minutes. Don’t let your food get cold.”
Mary sighed. He wouldn’t come in until he’d made thirty consecutive putts. It was his nightly ritual, weather permitting. Usually, he didn’t start until after dinner. Sometimes he putted in the black of night with the floodlights shining down on him. When Kendra still lived with them, she would challenge Dean to putting contests a few times a week. Mary would sit on the deck with a book while they played, smiling every time they laughed and feeling content. Watching Dean practice in silence tonight, she felt an emptiness that brought tears to her eyes. Before Kendra moved out, the three of them had always sat down for dinner together, and the meals would be punctuated with lively discussions and hearty laughter. With just Mary and Dean at the table, the kitchen had gone quiet, and Mary wondered if their daughter had been the glue holding their marriage together.
She took her plate to the living room and settled on the sofa with the nightly news to keep her company. Liz Collins’s familiar voice poured out of the surround sound speakers. “Crowds are expected to rally in cities all over the country this weekend, demanding stricter gun control laws.”
Mary repeated the words out loud in her best broadcaster voice, varying her inflection. She studied her old coworker’s unlined face and tried to imagine herself sitting in that anchor chair. Back when she and Liz had worked together at Channel 77, people regularly mistook them for sisters because they looked so much alike. They both had brown wavy hair, square faces, and almond-shaped eyes. Mary’s were bright green, while Liz’s were powder blue. Over the years, Liz had added highlights to her hair, easier to hide the grays, and today it was much lighter than Mary’s, which was in desperate need of a color to cover up her roots.
If people saw us together today, they’d probably think I was her mother.
Well, maybe she was being too hard on herself. Her old colleague had had cosmetic fillers injected in her cheeks and lips and regularly underwent Botox treatments. Liz had admitted as much in the People article.
Mary knew her cousin’s story about erasing years off her age was malarkey, but for fun, she let herself imagine that Darbi was telling the truth. If she could do it all again, she wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her career aspirations. Heck, if she could be twenty-four again right now, she’d work her butt off to dethrone Liz Collins as America’s most trusted broadcaster. She imagined filling in for Liz on weekends and holidays. Viewers would grow to love Mary more than Liz. They’d flood social media with posts demanding Mary get increased airtime. #MoreMary #LessLiz.
Dean finally came inside. Mary had no idea how he could entertain himself for so long hitting a stationary ball. How utterly boring. The microwave beeped. A few minutes later, he joined her on the couch with his reheated macaroni and a glass of wine. “Sorry. Needed to get my putting right for the tournament. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I’ll take you to Welly’s for dinner.”
Mary shook her head. “We’re going to James’s concert with Jenni and Rick tomorrow.” How could Dean forget about James’s show? The man was a superstar, and he was Mary’s friend. How many people actually knew a rock legend? Rolling Stone had once referred to James as America’s Rod Stewart, and Mary had cut out the article and had it framed, wanting everyone she knew to know she and James were tight. She’d lived in the apartment above James’s in Framingham all those years ago when he was just starting out. The two had been as close as a drum and drumstick back then.
“I thought that was next Friday,” Dean said.
“Nope. This Friday.” The tickets had been hanging on the refrigerator for over three months. Dean had been excited about the idea of seeing James. The two men used to golf together when Dean and Mary had first started dating.
Dean put his dish down. “I’m sorry. I got the date wrong. I can’t make it.”
Mary narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”
“I can’t be out late on Friday night. The tournament’s this weekend.”
Mary clenched her teeth. He played in a golf tournament almost every weekend from April through October. “It doesn’t start until Saturday.”
“My tee time is at eight thirty. On the Cape.” He picked up his fork. “I’m sorry. If it were any other tournament, I’d be able to go with you.”
“I really need you to come with me.” She sat up straighter, determined to make him understand. “I don’t want to be a third wheel with Jenni and Rick.”
“Rick’s more likely to feel like the third wheel with you two. Poor schmuck won’t be able to get a word in.”
“I thought you were excited to see James.”
“Any other weekend, I’d be thrilled to see him.” Dean’s gaze wandered from Mary to the TV, where Liz was saying good night. “Liz looks great.”
Mary snapped off the television. “We’ve had these plans for months.”
“I’m sorry I mixed up the weekend.”
“Skip the tournament.” Mary wanted to pat herself on the back. She’d told Dean exactly what she wanted him to do. Usually, she’d drop hints, and he’d pretend he didn’t understand what she wanted.
“I can’t let the guys down, especially Anthony. We’ve played in this together since I was fourteen.”
“So you don’t want to let your brother down, but it’s okay to let me down?” Her voice cracked. She hated herself for being so emotional.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You’ll have fun without me.”
He’d once been so disappointed whenever she’d make plans with her friends that didn’t include him, but after twenty-six years of marriage, they’d increasingly started doing things on their own. She stomped across the living room to the front door and slammed it behind her. The motion lights snapped on as she stalked down the stairs and across the walkway. A cold wind blew, and she wished she had grabbed her coat. There was no way she was going back inside to get it, though.
With the flashlight from her phone leading the way, she set off down the street, walking fast to try to calm down. These days, she was used to being a golf widow and always found ways to keep herself busy. She’d even planned a full weekend starting with Friday’s concert. On Saturday, Kendra was coming over for a rare visit. The two planned to walk the bike trail and then have lunch, and on Sunday, she and Jenni were attending an author talk at the local bookstore. She only needed Dean to be with her for a few hours on Friday night, and he couldn’t even do that.
She kicked a stone and watched it skip down the road. Earlier, she’d felt guilty for thinking she would choose her career over Dean if she could do it all again. In this moment, she regretted not choosing her career the first time. As she returned home, the pain in the back of her mouth became almost unbearable.