by Rose Smith
When they were both children, Fawna and Nell’s father worked as an Air Force sergeant when they were growing up. He worked in the 58th Weather Squadron, performing maintenance for various Air Force helicopters. Since his duties also required him to be a part of the flight crew, he was away a lot on missions.
They also moved frequently because he was reassigned to different bases throughout his lifelong career. When they were youngsters, they’d move every 2 1/2 to 3 years. When they moved to Leon, France when Fawna was seven and Nell five, they experienced an adventure that could’ve gotten them both killed.
With their father away on a flight assignment, she convinced Nell to follow her to a path that led from the Air Force base housing area to the woods just over the fence that separated the base from a country area in Leon where there were a few farms scattered over the landscape. Since their father was gone, they didn’t think they’d get into trouble.
Their parents had warned them several times not to ever climb over the fence because many of the French farmers did not want the American base there in the first place. Fawna was angry she had to take care of her mother, who was bedridden with the flu, so her decision was due to the little rebellious streak she’d been born with.
“You know if Dad ever finds out, we’ll be grounded forever,” Nell told her older sister. Throughout their lives she typically served as their voice of reason.
“That’s why we’re never gonna tell anyone. We can be back before Mom wakes up if we hurry.
Nell looked at her sister with doubt in her eyes, but relented and followed her over the fence. They ventured down the fence line, then ventured out when they saw trails that led to backs of some of the farms, where they could view cows, baby goats, even some mules. Thinking they’d get in trouble after they tried to throw some berries to the goats to coax them closer, Fawna said they ought to be getting back home. They’d been gone a little over an hour.
As they turned to find their way back to the trail, Fawna spotted a tall man charging towards them from one of the barns. He held some sort of object in his hand—silver and oddly curved and sharp looking—and he was waving it at them.
He yelled at them in French and he was fast catching up. Nell began to cry and stumble, by then, her flat feet had begun to hurt and Fawna knew she couldn’t run.
As if on instinct, Fawna bent down, grabbed Nell’s arm and yelled, “jump onto my shoulders! Hurry, Nell!” She didn’t bother looking behind her to see how close the man was getting, she just stood up and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, towing Nell all the way. At times, she ran so fast, it seemed as if she were gliding. She could still hear the screams of the angry man behind them. Even after she didn’t hear him—she raced with all her might.
She hustled to the opening they had climbed and she hoisted Nell, who was still crying, over first. Then she followed. She hadn’t even noticed that both of them were covered in scratches coming from the branches that had hit them while getting away from the angry farmer. Fawna took Nell home, snuck her into the bathroom and nursed both their wounds. They both hugged each other and cried. “You saved my life, Fawna. I could’ve never run fast enough to get away from that man. Why was he so angry?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was because we tried to feed his goats. We must never tell anybody what happened today.”
Fawna was young at the time, but she remembered how angry the man was. She thought it was more than just normal anger. Even at her young age she suspected he was angry that they were Americans and the base was in his backyard. That was her first encounter with prejudice, and somehow, it stayed with her.
Because their mom was so sick with the flu, it was easy to tell her they’d both fallen while playing softball to explain away the band aids. She found out years later that the object the man had in his hand was a sickle. The memory of him and it made her shudder.
She also reckoned with the fact that she’d put herself and her sister, Nell, in danger because she was angry at her mom for being sick and for having to take care of her. She never complained after that incident when her dad asked her to do something important. Somehow she remembered the consequences of disobeying him that day could’ve been much worse.
Nell nor Fawna ever revealed what they’d encountered to her parents. To this day, whenever they thought or talked about it, it shook them to their core. Nell, swore, to anyone they did dare tell, that Fawna saved their lives that day. As she finished up sending the flowers to Nell, she couldn’t help but be glad that it was Nell who was now carrying her.
Chapter Ten
“Let me out on the next corner, please. I can get the door myself.” Fawna thanked the driver and got out a few blocks from Pace Industries home office in Chicago.
Slits of snow and ice pinged her face as she walked. She wanted to feel the cold. She longed not to feel numb. She welcomed the stings on her face. That was better than the numbness in her heart. Anything to replace the nothingness that crept into her soul, leaving her angry and empty about what was going on around her. Things she was helpless to stop. One thing she’d learn to do when visiting Pace Industries or meeting anywhere with Stephen and his lawyers was to have the driver drop her off a few blocks away from the building to avoid the waiting paparazzi.
They were always hungry for the photos they fed their families on. The ones that had her holding up her hand to shield her face, or her looking distressed. Sometimes they even called out to her to ask how she felt about her husband being gay and deceiving her. How did she feel? She wanted to ask them—how would you feel if your life feel apart without warning.
At least when the merry-go-round goes to fast, you can stop it and get off. There was a good reason people referred to Chicago winds as The Hawk. The harsh Chicago wind blew into her face like a hawk swooping down and going through her. She tightened her knitted burgundy and blue scarf around her neck. She wrapped her arms around her sable colored faux fur coat and looked down at her caramel-colored Fendi boots with the platinum heel and stylish black Fendi symbol stamped throughout and her ebony laces. While waiting at a stop-light, she looked back at her footsteps in the snow. She remembered telling Nell how much she hated looking at her clod-hopper snow prints next to a woman who left cute little prints because they had small feet. Amusement brushed across her face when she thought about how big Stephen’s footprints he left in the snow would be when he left them with those enormous high heels.
Her thoughts turned serious as the wind whipped around corners as she crossed the street and walked between buildings. How ironic her feminine wiles, and looking chic in her designer dudes were of no use in this situation. At least she could wow the people in the office who guessed what she was going through. She barely noticed passersby and their double takes. As stunning as she looked on the outside, deep in her heart, she’d never felt so ugly and undesired.
Even though she made sure to dress the ‘knock their socks off’ part every time they met—feeling the part was another matter altogether. Sometimes she didn’t know how she kept functioning at her business, holding her head with pride and walking into icy meetings with Stephen’s gaggle of lawyers and public relations people trying desperately to control the narrative to the benefit of the shareholders. But she did. Every time, she did.
She’d often wondered how some women forgave their cheating husbands and stayed with them after they’d broken their hearts into a million pieces. She scoffed. That’s not even I choice I get to make. Not that I would, anyway. After a few more steps, she looked up and realized she arrived at her destination with her forever changed destiny intact. She walked into the building to the reception area and told the doorman she had a 10:30 appointment with Stephen and his public relations manager. She nodded to the friendly office workers she encountered on her way to the elevator to the penthouse office.
She held her head high, though her heart was numb. The tabloids were having a field-day with another well-known power couple headed to divorce court. Rumors sw
irled. She had no choice but to endure the circus tumbling around her. And she knew as well as any celebrity, while fans may cheer in admiration as you walk down the runway, as many will cheer at the downfall of yet another doomed celebrity marriage. She had no choice but get through it. She braced herself and walked through the tall, mahogany double doors. She walked over to the conference area, took off her hat, scarf and coat and took her seat. The lawyers began explaining the divorce proceedings to her, and when that was over, the public relations people took their swing at her. First, though, she addressed Stephen.
“That I did not agree to meet you and your lawyers until I was ready to move on and accept the grounds of a vulgar liaison is something you should expect from any spouse who has been cheated on.” Jeffrey rolled his eyes as he walked across the massive office suite to pour himself and Stephen a cup of coffee. He didn’t even bother to ask Fawna if she’d like a cup, he ignored her while inviting the lawyers to help themselves.
She looked at Stephen. “You know it’s not vulgar because you’re gay—it’s tawdry because you had someone else in our bed. You betrayed me, your marriage, yourself.
Fawna swung her eyes toward Jeffrey. “I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for. Better hope the same won’t happen to you.”
Jeffrey snarked at her. “We’re getting married. You do know it’s legal now. We want everyone to know how happy we are.” He walked over and sat across the massive conference table next to Stephen who smiled at him.
Jeffrey flung his cigarette into his ashtray and fitted his long, curving fingers together, tip by tip. He showed sangfroid to render his words effective. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and stuffed them into his suit pocket.
She marveled at their audacity as she cast her attention on Stephen. “You, who are a past master in the art of manipulation of your surroundings and quite adept in putting on one hell of an act of being straight when you were fucking me.” Everyone else in the room, including Jeffrey blushed. “Don’t be surprised when a woman you treat like a bitch starts acting like one,” she lashed out.
“I know, and you also know that in no word or deed did Stephen indicate to me his belief in my knowledge of the true character of his intentions,” she told all of them.
“On the contrary, she looked at Stephen—you spoke of our future of children, of—of all the things one would associate with a happily married couple. Though I ought to thank you for sparing me that. I would hate to have to go home and tell any children that we had that Dad is breaking up our family and marrying someone else.
I admit, under the spell of my love for you I gave all—and you took it. Had I never made the slip of coming home early, how much longer would you have carried out your affair behind my back, I wonder? Let it be on the record, that what I do from here on out, won’t be based on some false narrative and it sure won’t be base on some fairy tale. Going forward, I’ll be working out what’s best for me.”
Stephen tried to soften her up, knowing they needed her help in mitigating the narrative to preserve the company’s family image. “Look, Fawna. I know this has to be hard on you, finding out the way you did, I’m sorry for that. Of course I did—and I do care for you. I’m quite fond of you, we have been through some good times. But why spoil our happiness by continued references to the prosaic, to what’s not possible?”
Fawna fell back in her chair. There were no tears, no sighs; just a dead coldness, realization freezing to despair.
Stephen got out of his chair, stretched himself, smiled, walked over and laid a sinuous hand on her shoulder. Jeffrey still sitting on the opposite side of the table, stiffened.
“Come, come, Fawna! Let’s not be angry with each other! The baby grandmother clock there says half-past nine. It’s much too early to start the day with such acrimony.”
Fawna flung off his touch with a gesture of bitterness, and sat upright, stiffening from the tips of her Fendi boots to the crown of her raven curls. Her words came with a brittle snap, absolutely devoid of their old mellowness, their erst while tenderness and appeal.
“Don’t bother putting on this act, Stephen. You made your true feelings known. I see my mistake in all its naked hideousness. Time for a reality check. Something I’m starting right now. I’m going to blot this piece out of my life forever—erase every memory—it’s time I started with a clean slate.”
Stephen’s brows went up, now it was his turn to be surprised at Fawna’s coldness. He gazed at her curiously, with a touch of hesitation. He realized getting her on board with the plan might be harder than he’d let on to his public relations manager. He walked back to his chair and sat, looking at his manager with more of an unsure look on his face.
He pleaded, “don't you care anything about me? Don’t you wan’t this to be as painless as possible? Does the past count for nothing? Are you going to make this difficult for both of us?”
A little wild laugh broke from her lips. Her luminous eyes, filled with suppressed fire. Crimson blazed in her cheeks. “Seems to me these are questions I should have been asking you from the start. The past, as you put it, has its place, no doubt; but the future has a bigger one. I must carve out my future with my own happiness in mind.
But for my own part, I intend that living shall be right I shall willingly, gladly, forget every horrible thing you have said and done to me as if this unfortunate chapter had never been written.”
“Really Stephen!” Jeremy spat out. I’m not going to sit and listen to this twaddle. I’m going back to work.” He rose and stomped off. At that moment, Fawna thought Stephen and Jeffrey were both turning out to be divas who probably deserved each other.
Fawna sat straight in her chair, the flesh of the back of her hand pressed against its cold leather as she gripped the corners. A contemptuous little smile twisted her lips.
Once the lawyers concluded their introductions and explanations of the divorce proceedings and bid everyone a good day, Stephen’s public relations manager took over the meeting. He was just as brash and cold about the situation as Stephen and Jeffrey had been the night she discovered them in bed together.
“Ten years ago, this wouldn’t be happening. But with so many celebrities coming out of the closet, we’ve got a chance to make this something really positive. We need to turn you all into champions. And to that, Fawna, we’ll need your help.”
It was as if they were talking about a business merger—not the end of her marriage. She couldn’t believe her ears.
“You want my help?”
“Yes. We need you to be the supportive wife who wishes her husband happiness now that he’s had the courage to stand up for love and what he believes in. When we have our first news conference, we need you standing right by Stephen and Jeffrey’s side.”
Despite the rein she had upon herself, Fawna's lips trembled.
“It was a gamble—with marked cards.’’ she said, a harsh
note creeping into her voice. “He never—cared for me. He used me.”
“Never mind that. He can become a champion for other men trapped in loveless marriages.”
“Trapped in loveless marriages? What about assholes who don’t have the courage enough not to stand behind a woman who falls madly in love, not even having an inkling that her husband is gay?
What about a man, regardless of who he is cheating with is an asshole for creeping behind his spouses back, bedding someone in their marriage bed and making a damn mockery of her feelings by acting like this is some kind of business merger. You know what? Fuck you, tell Jeffre I said fuck you, and a special fuck you for you Stephen. The man who took vows to love and cherish me.
You’re all assholes. Whatever press conference nonsense you do—it’ll be without me. Have a nice life.” She got up from the sofa and left. When she trekked up to her apartment, a book appeared titled Things Are Not What They Seem on her coffee table. “Now you tell me!”
She picked it up and threw it across the room in frustration. Ever since the first
book that appeared out of nowhere and scared the living daylights out of her, she wondered where the hell she got this gift and if it really was a gift—or a curse.
The first time a book materialized out of thin air was when she was in grade school, a week before her grandmother died. A book appeared out of thin air titled, Coping With Loss. No one in her family was sick or dying. She would have sworn someone put it on her nightstand had she not seen the book materialize right before her eyes.
It took years before she even admitted to herself that happened. She thought if she told her parents, they’d swear she stole the book from a store or maybe from a friend, so she didn’t tell anyone.
But that coupled with looking into the mirror and seeing people she empathized with looking back at her, made her realize she was somehow different. She’d tried to broach the subject with her mother when she was a teenager, but her mother would charge it to her over-active imagination. She shrugged it off herself when the books stop showing up unannounced.
The turmoil with Stephen seemed to reintroduce a chapter of her life she’d tucked away for lack of a way to explain it. Both of Fawna’s parents were secretive. She saw how upset her mom became the day she asked her about the book, so she stopped asking.
And anyway, the vagueness of the books meant they didn’t always help. She felt like a psychic who gets clues to a crime that are muddled. The psychic can tell the police the body is by a tree or a telephone poll, but can’t lead the police to the exact location. And now she gets a book warning her about things not being what they seem? Not helpful. She wished someone had told her that before she fell in love. She called into the office and told them she’d be taking the rest of the day off. She then took a shower, dressed in her comfortable pajamas and cried herself to sleep.
Nell came over the next morning with a two giant red ceramic bowls, two gallons of mint chocolate chip ice cream, a giant ice cream scooper and two red and white polka dot ceramic spoons twice the size of tablespoons. When Fawna opened the door, she let her peek at her booty in her large red bag and said, “let me in and let’s dig in.” Fawna had to laugh. And that’s how it went during her divorce. Her sister, Nell, carried her every step of the way.
