“Because I’m not a size four!”
He just looked at her, arms crossed and leaning on the door jam, clearly confused. She sat up and sighed in exasperation.
“I saw this dress that I really wanted, but they didn’t have a six, and the eight was too big, so I tried to squeeze into a four, but it didn’t look quite right, so the sales lady brought me a pair of Spanx to smooth everything out. But you aren’t supposed to sleep in them. But I did! And now I have a yeast infection!” She moaned the last part, falling back onto the pillows dramatically.
Will looked at her silently for a minute, then said, “So, do you want to cancel tonight?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know! I can’t go like this. My vag is on fire—and not in a good way!” She put her hand over her eyes. “Maybe you should just go without me.”
“I don’t really want to go anyway, I certainly don’t want to go without you, plus it might look strange if I went on my own. If you’re not well, that gives me a great excuse to stay home.”
“Then it will look like you just ditched because I was perfectly fine last night and I should be fine in time to go to the dinner on Friday. You don’t want to look like an ass who lies about his wife being sick to get out of parties.”
“True. But my wife is sick and I don’t want to leave her on her own while I go to a party that I won’t even enjoy.”
“Do you think they’ll notice you’re not there?”
He thought for a moment. “Probably. How about this: I’ll go to the party for a little while, just an hour, drop off the gift and leave early. I can tell them you’re unwell and that I have to get home to you.”
“You won’t tell them what’s wrong, will you?” she asked with a sharp look.
He held his hands up in front of him. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Okay.” She relaxed. “That sounds good. The gift is wrapped and on the table in the hall. And don’t forget to sign the card. I left it out for you.”
“Yes, dear. Shall I bring you something to drink?”
“Iced tea, unsweet, please.”
“Yes, your highness,” he said as he backed out.
“Shut up and bring me my tea,” she mumbled.
Will chuckled and went to the kitchen. Two minutes later, he was back with a tall glass of tea, the ice clinking as he walked.
“Here you go, princess.”
“Thanks,” she said quietly and took a sip.
“So I don’t have to leave for an hour. What can I do?”
“Nothing.” She looked around the room, clearly in pain but also a bit bored. “Maybe you could pick up a movie and some take-out on your way back?”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I go get it now so you don’t have to wait so long?”
“I love that idea. Spice of India?” she asked hopefully, naming one of their regular take-out places a few blocks away.
“Sounds good. I’ll put in the order now. What movie do you want?”
“I don’t know. Surprise me. But nothing with explosions. Something girly. A comfort movie.”
“Is that like comfort food?”
“Something like that.”
“All right. I’ll be back soon.”
She closed her eyes and tried to relax as she heard Will on the phone, then the sound of his key locking the front door. Thirty minutes later he was back and the smell of curry was wafting down the hall. She shuffled towards the kitchen and saw Will carrying a plate of steaming food and another glass of iced tea. She followed him to the living room and sat gingerly on the couch while he set the food on the table.
“All the new movies looked vapid, so I got Roman Holiday,” he said as he walked to the television and slid the DVD into the player. “I remembered you liked it. Do you want me to start it?”
“No, I’ll start it in a minute. You should get ready for the party.”
In fifteen minutes, Harper was dressed in a fresh suit and ready to go.
“I shouldn’t be too long, it’s just down the street. Call me if you need me.” He kissed her forehead and she gave him a sad smile.
“Have fun. Don’t flirt with any leggy blondes. Or saucy redheads. Actually, don’t flirt with anyone at all.”
“I never flirt. You know that.” He grinned at her and she winked back at him.
“Just reminding you.”
“I’ve got my mobile,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
Liz sank back into the cushions and took a bite of samosa. “He handled that really well. Who knew he had it in him?”
She flipped through the channels for a while before she started the movie. She was about twenty minutes in when Will walked in.
“I thought this would be over by now,” Will said as he flopped onto the couch next to her.
“I started it late. How was the party?”
“Not too bad. You didn’t miss anything.”
“Anyone we know there?”
“A few people from work, no one special. The bride says she hopes you feel better soon.”
“Do you think they believed you that I was sick?”
“Of course. I never lie.”
She smiled and nudged him with her foot and then settled in to watch the rest of the movie. When it was finished, she got up and walked with her knees far apart to her room.
He looked up as she left and stared at her incredulously. “How many braids are in your hair?” he asked.
She glared at him. “Just a few. It’s a stress relief,” she said defensively. She started pulling one of the many haphazard braids in her hair so it would come undone.
Will caught up to her quickly and put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re a weird girl, Lizzy Barrett.”
She smacked his chest. “I am not. I’m quirky and cute!”
He kissed the top of her head outside her door like he always did and continued to his room.
An hour later, as Harper was lying in bed with his laptop open, he debated whether or not he wanted to look up a yeast infection on Google. He really had no idea what it was, so he decided to go to WebMD and get some information.
“Eww,” he said to himself as he read a description of the symptoms. He clicked on images and regretted it a moment later. With morbid fascination, he looked through five photographs of varying degrees of infection and cringed with each new slide.
“I am so glad I don’t have a vagina,” he mumbled as he turned off the computer and lay down to go to sleep.
21
Poison
Late September
5 Months Married
Liz walked in the door Thursday evening and unceremoniously dumped her bag on the floor.
“Lizzy?” Will called from the kitchen. A minute later he was walking towards her where she was slumped against the door. “Rough day?”
“Professor Wheeler hates me!” she cried.
“What happened?”
“She read part of my analysis of Wuthering Heights in class today. She said I had no vision and no understanding of the characters.”
“Ouch. What’s her problem?”
“She gets off on Brontë and I don’t. And to think this Women of the Classics class was supposed to be fun,” she mumbled as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer roughly from the fridge. “Why are you home so early?”
“I’m not that early. It’s almost seven. Did you forget we’re going to dinner with your friends tonight?”
Her expression told him she had forgotten. “Crap. Sheila will kill me if I cancel. She got a babysitter and everything. Stupid Professor Wheeler. You know what she said to me at the end of class?”
“What?”
“That marrying up was all well and good, but that a woman shouldn’t retire her brain to pick up an apron. Can you believe that? She might as well have told me that I’m a traitor to feminism and I wasn’t even trying on that paper.” She took two more gulps of beer before setting the bottle on the counter. “I’d kill for a grilled chee
se right now.”
Will nodded. Beer and grilled cheese had become one of his favorite meals. Liz gave herself a shake and took a deep breath.
“I just need an attitude adjustment. Screw Professor Wheeler. I’ll just have to work extra hard in that class so it doesn’t tank my GPA. What time are we supposed to leave?”
William looked at the calendar on his phone. “We’re supposed to meet them at eight. It’ll take twenty minutes to get there.”
“Shit. I’d better hurry. Can you text Sheila for me and tell her we might be a few minutes late? My phone’s in my bag.”
She ran off to her room and he heard the shower running a minute later. He grabbed the phone from the zipper pocket of her messenger bag and quickly sent off a message.
We might be 5-10 minutes late —sorry.
A moment later her phone buzzed with a reply.
No problem, I’m running behind. What are you wearing? Better yet, what’s the hunk wearing?
The hunk? Was she referring to him? He stared at the phone for a few seconds, wondering how he should reply or even if he should reply. Sheila clearly thought she was talking to Liz.
Gray trousers and a black button down. Prada loafers. I don’t know what Liz is wearing.
Almost a full minute went by before there was a reply.
Is this William? Or are you messing with me, Lizzy?
This is William. Or should I say ‘The hunk’? Looking forward to meeting you tonight, Sheila.
Will didn’t tell Liz about his little conversation with Sheila. She came out of her room in a pair of suede trousers and a lightweight red sweater, still putting her earrings in.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Mostly. I didn’t have time to do much with my hair. Does it look too frizzy?”
“No, it looks good. What kind of place is this? It sounds ethnic.”
“Knowing Sheila, it is. It’s her turn to pick where we go. If you and Peter get along and we want to do this again, we get to pick next time.”
“Fair enough. Shall we?” He held the door open and she walked out ahead of him and pushed the button for the elevator while he locked the door. “So tell me about Sheila and Peter. Did I meet them at the reception?”
“Well, I’m really more friends with Sheila. They were out of town for the reception. She’s really funny, you can’t help but like her. I met her last year when she was in all my classes but one. After she saw me in the fourth class, she asked if I was stalking her and we’ve been friends ever since. She’s five years older than me and chews you out in Spanish when she gets mad—I think her mother is Cuban. Great salsa dancer.
“She had a baby after she graduated with her bachelor’s and waited until he went to kindergarten to get her master’s. She plans to go on for her Ph.D. Her husband Peter—blonde Swedish looking guy—is a lawyer at some office in Brooklyn. I don’t know that much about him other than he’s a fun guy to have at dinner and seems pretty smart.” She stopped talking when the elevator opened.
Will had guessed right and the restaurant was very ethnic. They met Sheila and Peter at the front where introductions were made and Sheila commented on how much she liked William’s outfit, which Liz found odd but didn’t question. The hostess, wearing a strange dress made out of beads, led them to a low table in the corner surrounded by pillows.
“I knew I’d end up sitting on the floor,” Will mumbled just loud enough for Liz to hear him. She elbowed him in the ribs and sat down on a tasseled purple pillow, gesturing for Will to sit on the red one next to her.
“What kind of food is this?” Will asked.
“It’s Persian. Have you ever had it before?” Sheila asked.
“No, this is my first time.”
“They have a few Indian dishes on the menu if those are more familiar to you. Persian food is all about balance—sweet and sour, hot and cold. There’s a lovely pomegranate soup you should try.” William looked uncertain so she added, “I can order for you if you want. It’s easier if someone shows you what’s good.”
“Sure, why not,” Will answered with a smile, determined to be a good sport.
Liz looked at him incredulously. “You don’t know what a compliment that is, Sheila. I’ve never even ordered for Will.”
Sheila smiled in triumph while Will turned to Liz in surprise. “Really? Never?”
“Not once. But now that I know strange places in questionable neighborhoods are what it takes to make you let go of the reins, I may get my chance.”
He raised a brow in answer and turned to Peter, asking him about his job.
“Damn girl, he’s even hotter in person!” Sheila whispered in Liz’s ear.
“You do know your husband’s sitting next to you, don’t you?”
“I’m just appreciating the view. You think Peter didn’t notice your ass in those pants?”
“Ew! I don’t want to think about your husband looking at my ass.”
Sheila laughed. “You are entirely too easy to rankle, Barrett.” Sheila loved shock factor. “But seriously, so far he seems great. Handsome, funny, loaded.”
“You think he’s funny?” Liz was replaying the five-minute introductory conversation in her head. Will hadn’t seemed particularly funny to her then, but to each her own.
“Yeah! And he has great hair.”
“And he’s a good kisser. Can’t forget that one.”
“You did good, kid.” Sheila nudged her shoulder against Liz’s. Liz just smiled back.
Sheila ended up ordering for the entire table and the next two hours were spent in lively conversation and three courses of strange but delicious food. Will had never had anything like it and looked at each new dish doubtfully, but he was a good sport and tried everything on the table, including a doughy lump floating in a red juice that burned his mouth so badly he drank an entire glass of water just to keep from breaking into a sweat while Sheila laughed so hard she fell off her pillow. Will glared at her but his mouth was too hot to do much more than pant. They all ended up laughing together and Will promised to get revenge when it was his turn to pick. The check came and Peter snatched it before Will had a chance.
“We picked the restaurant, we’ve got the bill.”
Harper nodded at Peter’s determined expression and the women exchanged looks.
“Did we just witness male territory marking?” Sheila said to Liz.
“I think so. At least they settled it without peeing on anything.” They both snickered as the men rolled their eyes at them.
After spending another ten minutes in idle chatter, Liz was about to begin saying their goodbyes when she noticed William had his hand on his stomach and his face looked a little green.
“You okay?” she asked him quietly.
“I think so. I feel a little,” he grunted in place of a word and Liz started to get worried.
In all the restaurants they’d gone to, she’d never seen him have indigestion. In fact, as she thought about it, she realized they never went anywhere remotely this ethnic and Will never ate spicy food. She quickly texted their driver to bring the car around to the front and said goodbye to Sheila while Will took deep breaths and looked sea sick.
“Is he all right? He looks a little green,” Sheila asked.
“I think he’ll be fine, but I’d better get him home. Thanks for the invite, we had a great time. We’ll pick next time.” She kissed Peter on the cheek, hugged Sheila, and led an increasingly sweaty Will to the car.
“Go as fast as you can, Mario. Mr. Harper doesn’t feel well,” she told the driver as she guided Will into the back seat.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Harper.”
By the time they got to their building, Will was holding his stomach and doubled over. Liz was beginning to get really worried and wondered if she should take him to the hospital to have his stomach pumped.
“Will? Babe? We’re home. Do you think you can walk?”
He groaned something she couldn’t understand but managed to climb out of the car.
He walked in, hunched over, and headed for the elevator. The doorman immediately recognized them and ran ahead to push the button for them.
“Everything all right, Mrs. Harper?”
“Yes, Frank. I think Mr. Harper has food poisoning.”
“Aw, man, that’s bad. Let us know if we can help, ma’am.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.” She smiled wanly as the doors closed and looked at Will where he was nearly doubled over next to her. “Will, are you going to throw up?”
“Uhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn,” was his only reply.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said to herself.
Finally, the elevator reached their floor and she led him the ten steps to the front door. Once they were inside, she quickly flipped on the lights, bolted the door and shimmied Will out of his jacket. She led him as quickly as she could to his bathroom and left him kneeling in front of the toilet. She ran to the kitchen and filled a glass with sparkling water and grabbed the trash bags from under the sink. She nearly sprinted back to the bathroom and got there just in time to see Will emptying the contents of his stomach into the commode.
She reached over him and flushed, then grabbed a cloth from the cupboard, wet it with cool water, and wiped the sweat off his brow and around his mouth. When he felt the cool touch on his face, he opened his eyes and looked at Liz for the first time since the restaurant.
“Lizzy, you don’t need to be here for this. It’s okay. Go to bed.”
“Like I could sleep through all this moaning you’re doing,” she said as she wiped his neck.
It felt so good, he didn’t want her to go, but he also didn’t want her to watch him throw up and he could feel his stomach rolling again. “Liz, go on. I don’t pay you enough for this.”
She looked stung for a moment, then her expression hardened and she looked at him steadily. “Put your pride away, Mr. Harper. You’re sick and you need help. Unless you want me to take you to the hospital, you’re stuck with me.”
He started to reply, but when he opened his mouth, he felt the unmistakable signs of sickness and leaned over the toilet again. Liz brushed his hair back over his ears and off his forehead, then laid the folded cloth along the back of his neck.
Green Card Page 22
