Chapter 6
CHAPTER
PETRIFIED, I DROP my mug, sweep my arm up, twist and grapple for the knife. The waiter’s narrow silver coffee carafe goes flying. Hot brown liquid spills when it crashes on the sidewalk.
“Penn, what are you doing?” Val asks.
As the past recedes, sickness rises like the tide followed by a hot flush. “Oh! Sorry. You snuck up on me,” I feebly explain to the waiter, then see it’s not a skull on the back of his hand. It’s a yin-yang symbol.
“Clearly, she’s had too much coffee already,” Kiki says with an ingratiating smile that the waiter instantly returns. Everyone loves Kiki.
The waiter wipes up the spilled coffee. And after only a couple of moments of awkward silence, Val says, “I’ve never understood why you didn’t go back to grad school” to cover for my strange overreaction.
The adrenaline charging through my body eases. What are friends for …
“You know that I considered it—”
“No,” Val says. “You’ve never mentioned that.”
Her stare is intense. She’s the one who’s had too much caffeine. “Oh. Well, I did, once Circe was in school full time. But Bruce pointed out that we didn’t need dual incomes, and Circe would spend afternoons home alone since I’d be required to work as a teaching assistant as part of my program.”
“You live in Pacific Heights,” Kiki says. “It’s not the Tenderloin.”
I explain, “Bruce was a latchkey kid and didn’t love it.” I, too, had spent afternoons and too many nights alone once Mama J and I had our own place, scared, watching sitcoms to drown out the fights on the other side of too-thin walls and the blare of police sirens.
Val frowns. “So, Bruce was against it.”
Yes. Despite our plans when he proposed. “We both wanted what was best for Circe. And anyway, there was no guarantee I would’ve gotten into a new PhD program.”
“But are you ever sorry that you didn’t even try?” Val presses.
There’s an intensity to her question and I’m starting to feel ganged up on.
Usually, Val and Kiki are content to talk about themselves or our girls.
The truth is that I was sorry over the years, especially once Circe needed me less, and broached the subject multiple times to Bruce until he finally put an end to it.
I appreciate all you do for Circe, me, our family. We’re so lucky. But sometimes, Penny, I worry that subconsciously you want to sabotage our lives; that you’re drawn to the chaos of your youth.
Horrified at the idea Mama J had buried a secret grenade inside of me, set to detonate if I followed my desires, I never brought up grad school again.
“There are always little regrets,” I now admit. “It would’ve been exciting to see what I could’ve accomplished.”
My friends share a look, and my scalp tightens the way it used to when Mama J lied. That pesky lock of hair escapes and again I push it back into place.
’Tis always the season …
I dig nails into my palm to refocus. My program’s glitches have just made me jumpy.
“Big plans for your anniversary tonight?” Kiki asks.
“I’m pretty sure Bruce has something in store.
” But when was the last coupon book for foot rubs?
At least ten years ago. And ice cream sundae surprises, or breakfast in bed?
Three years, maybe more. I can’t even remember our last date night.
“He might’ve forgotten,” I concede, keeping my tone light.
“It’s not a big deal. Bruce is swamped at work.
If it did slip his mind, we’ll have lamb lollipops, braised veggies, homemade gnocchi, and tiramisu for dessert.
” I smile, but salt water still pools. It’s mortifying. I don’t ever cry in public.
Kiki reaches for my hand. “What’s going on?”
A rush of gratitude that I have two best friends who care hits. They’re the answer to my childhood wish. “Bruce is very busy with work—”
“But …?” Val prods. She’s the protective one, quick to defend, and always on a friend’s side.
My cheeks warm, but friends share things.
I know that Kiki had an eating disorder, still struggles with it, and constantly worries that Charlotte might follow in her footsteps; that Val’s mostly estranged from her parents because at nineteen, she decided to keep Emi instead of putting her up for adoption like they wished.
She’s also afraid that her inability to have lasting relationships will affect Emi’s future choices.
They both know about my miscarriage, were there to pick up the pieces when I didn’t even want to get out of bed.
They don’t know about the following two, but who wants to be that friend?
I take a deep breath and spill. “Lately, Bruce has been more impatient, and we haven’t … We haven’t had sex in ages.”
“What’s ages?” Val asks.
“Two months.” It’s more. Val puffs out air in a breathy whistle and looks away. Embarrassment hits. Is it my fault? I blow my nose into a cloth napkin, rude in a public restaurant but necessary.
Our table falls into an uncomfortable silence, and I want to disappear. Abruptly, Val says, “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
She jerks her head at Celeste’s, a high-end lingerie boutique across the street. “Sometimes men need to be reminded of what they’re missing.”
I dutifully follow Val across the street, Kiki in tow. They make me try on various silk and lace outfits. We settle on a whisper-thin chemise and robe in pale pink.
“You will look so sexy Bruce’s eyes will fall out of their sockets,” Val says at the register. “I’ll do your makeup before dinner. A glamorous chignon will finish off the look.”
Be your husband’s girlfriend, Dr. Beth whispers.
“Penn …?” Kiki asks.
She and Val watch me, concerned. I can’t admit that I’m thinking about Dr. Beth’s counsel.
They both believe she’s a pop shrink whose views are regressive.
They could never understand that she’s one of the people who has helped me have a good marriage, raise Circe, along with lifestyle guru Maddie Stuart, twenty-minute-meal chef Bonnie Roy, therapist Dr. Bob, hip talk show host Olivia, motivational speaker Tanya Decker, blogs, LivLoud, and stacks of self-help books.
“How about I swing by the salon for glam after I get dinner prepped?” I ask.
“Promise you’ll show?” Val demands.
She’s so serious that again, my nerves scrape.
The dirty hand with its skull tattoo flashes like a nauseating strobe in a dance club.
As a child, that man wanted my innocence, maybe my life.
The remembered taste of terror and impotence curdles on my tongue.
Why has that long-buried memory suddenly resurfaced?
“Penn?” Val prods.
“Promise,” I say and smile so wide it makes the muscle under my right eye twitch.