Hooked

by Gina Messina

  But it didn't last very long. Charlie’s sedative had started to wear off and she only lasted another ten minutes before she had to flee the store. The overwhelming odor of fakeness had started to give her a serious migraine. Not only did it give her a migraine, the synthetic chemical smell essentially caused her to mentally snap back to earth, and just in the nick of time, too. Could I be allergic to inexpensive shoes? Then, to add insult to injury, her stomach started giving her severe problems, too. She felt a cramp in her side and clutched her belly while trying to ignore the rumblings that were coming from deep within her bowels, then sprinted down the street in urgent search of a clean bathroom. Apparently the dirty water dog hadn’t agreed with her either. Nothing cheap ever did.

  “I did the whole two hours each day,” she told Dr. Harrison again. “At first it was really humiliating. Eventually, I guess I got used to it. They were certainly comfortable!” Admitting that hurt Charlie’s pride. “The hardest part was finding something I could wear with them. They made all my clothes look so economical and lifeless. I had to run out to the Gap and buy a few pairs of Chinos and some knee socks to make them work for me. I don’t think I even owned a pair of socks since gym class in high school!” Still, she was embarrassed. This is what she’d become? A housewife wearing polyester khakis and argyle socks.

  Dr. Harrison didn’t see it that way though and nodded with enthusiastic approval. “Well, I’m pleased that you followed through, Charlie. Did you gain anything from the experience?”

  If her shrink was expecting a confession of a revelation from the experiment, she didn’t get it. Instead Charlie answered dully, “I don’t think so,” still confused as to why Dr. Harrison had even thought up that ridiculous assignment. Really, she asked herself, What had been the point?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes,

  I had one thousand and sixty.”

  Imelda Marcos

  “I have to pick up Layla from kindergarten early today, so I only have about forty-five minutes,” Charlie announced when she entered the office, lugging three shopping bags behind her. “She has a modeling audition with Baby Gap and we could really use the extra cash. Did I mention that Sean cut me off from the checking account and the credit cards!”

  Dr. Harrison looked at the shopping bags that were stuffed to the gills, and a sardonic expression on her face. Charlie returned her look with a pointed expression of her own while thinking, Don’t fucking judge me! You don't live in my world.

  After all, she had standards to maintain and facades to keep up-pretenses that needed to be upheld. Charlie shuddered while she speculated on how she was going to cope. How will I put food on the table? And what about Izzy? Who’s going to pay her to scour the kitchen floor and wash the gooey laundry? How am I going to feed my shoe addiction? At this last thought, her right hand started to tremble frantically while her left one contorted in grotesque convulsions. Charlie started to panic, wondering if her life was headed to a series of endless clogs.

  “Should I call the paramedics?” Dr. Harrison sarcastically asked, not at all concerned with her patient’s well-being.

  How can she be making jokes when I’m about to be penniless? she questioned. Charlie wondered why Dr. Harrison wasn’t worried herself. She highly doubted Sean would continue to pay for her very expensive therapy and as a result, Dr. Harrison’s money train would certainly run out.

  Charlie refrained from pointing this out to her and instead, decided to be the bigger person. So she ignored the sarcasm and brushed the cynical question aside.

  “He felt I was abusing his generosity with my excessive shoe obsession. Of course, my attorney is putting an end to this, immediately. Who the fuck does Sean think he is?” she asked, while she vividly pictured Lizbeth, with that cunt look on her face, running wantonly through the streets of Manhattan and offering up Sean’s credit card to every retail establishment that sold high-end baby apparel.

  “I’ll take three of those cashmere, Petit Bateau onesies,” (at a hundred a pop,) Lizbeth might demand to the very weary and overwhelmed sales woman who only worked there because she had three kids, with twins on the way and could really use the employee discount.

  “And, did I tell you I ran into Sean and Lizbeth last week at Balducci’s?” She must have put on 25 lbs. already!” she exclaimed with sheer pleasure before reluctantly admitting to herself that Lizbeth’s pregnancy was rather becoming of her. “She was literally fucking glowing. Who glows, I ask you? It’s not normal!”

  Charlie looked back at her own pregnancy-such an unpleasant experience. Her feet had been so bloated, she was forced to walk around in flip flops most of the time and her face became a victim to pregnancy induced rosacea. Sean had refused to be seen with her in public, but she really couldn’t blame him. A fat, pimply-faced wife wearing flip-flops, didn’t quite fit the perfect life image he so desperately sought.

  “There was something about seeing them out in public, like a normal couple that was eerily more disturbing than seeing her tethered to my sub-zero.”

  “Did you feel threatened?”

  “Not really threatened. More like nauseated,” Charlie answered. “It was mostly unsettling, to be honest. They just seemed so blindingly happy. It practically hurt to look at them. Lizbeth’s once stringy hair appeared healthy; the bulimia, a distant fading memory. They already looked like a real family,” she numbly added while feeling wholly inadequate. “It just didn’t seem right. Even her shoes were better than mine.”

  “Well, I find that difficult to believe, Charlie, truly I do.”

  Charlie smiled. Well at least there's that. Even though Dr. Harrison had meant it to be a mockery, it was taken as a compliment. It was the only thing she could cling to.

  “That's true, for the most part,” Charlie agreed, “But in this case, she did have the better shoes!”

  “How is that even possible!” Dr. Harrison asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Charlie couldn’t figure out where this sudden sarcasm was coming from and thought, That’s twice in less than ten minutes that she’s been acting all bitchy.

  “But they were! Lizbeth had on the latest pony hair over-the-knee winter boots by Prada. Did you know they’re on back order for months? It will be late summer before I can find a store that has them in stock and then what good will they do me in August?” she lamented. “I was blindingly jealous! Before they could spot me, I bolted in the opposite direction with my head down, then I actually collided, like a seeing impaired person, right into a mountainous display of San Marzo canned tomatoes! I told you I was blinded by jealousy! The whole fucking thing toppled over and crashed to the ground. Giant cans were rolling haphazardly in every direction. Of course, there was no way I could avoid them after that.”

  “And?”

  “And, Lizbeth actually marched right up to me. I was still on my knees, fumbling with the cans and trying to right them. Sean lagged behind with his hands in his pockets and an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, while I inwardly cursed him.

  “Charlotte, Lizbeth had said, looking down on me. I think we need to put this behind us and act like the mature adults that we are. I am going to be Layla’s stepmother, you know.”

  “How did that make you feel when she said this?”

  At first Charlie had been stunned. She hadn’t really thought about Lizbeth being Layla’s step-mother. When she was forced to think about it, she got really angry.

  “What a load of crap!” she had yelled back while salivating over Lizbeth’s Pony Skin Prada’s which were just inches from her face. “I have no desire to be civil to you, you little skank!” she resentfully whimpered. Charlie was trying to be strong. She did everything in her power to concentrate on picking up the cans of tomatoes and not on Lizbeth’s boots. Unfortunately for her, the boots were too incredible to ignore. “And, where the hell did you get those incredible boots?” she spat out with envy. “They’re virtually impossible to f
ind! Even Marco couldn’t locate them for me! Did you get them on pre-order?” she spitefully thundered, but it came out all sing-songy instead, probably due to the exceptional acoustics of the Italian opera music that was being piped through the Balducci’s sound system.

  “They were a gift from Sean,” Lizbeth bragged while taking a step closer to where Charlie was still splayed on the floor. It took all the strength she could muster not to reach out her hand and pet the soft pony hair.

  “Can you fucking believe it, Dr. Harrison? I swallowed my fucking pride and basically asked her where she got her boots. I was so crazed, I actually asked her that! I could hear Sean righteously snorting as I picked myself up from the floor, brushed myself off and walked out the door with what little dignity I had left.”

  Dr. Harrison shifted in her seat and eyed Charlie carefully before changing the topic. “Why don’t we talk about Layla? How is she handling Sean’s absence?” she questioned with a sudden flicker of warmth in her eyes.

  “Not very well. She started wetting the bed again and seems really sad all the time.” Charlie blamed Sean for the issues Layla was recently having. “Ever since that night Sean insisted on taking her out to dinner and insensitively informing her that she was going to be a big sister, she’s been acting out. Is that sick or what? What kind of father does that?”

  “How do you think that made Layla feel?”

  “Like sloppy seconds!”

  “Charlie…” Dr. Harrison admonished her.

  “It’s fucking true. Sean replaced me with Lizbeth and now he’s replacing Layla with a new baby!”

  “Do you think you’re being fair.”

  “None of this is fucking fair! You didn’t see my daughter that night, Dr. Harrison. When he dropped her back home, she ran straight to her room and refused to come out until morning. And, when she finally did come out, her eyes were all rimmed red from crying. It’s been difficult trying to get her to school lately and she’s become so needy it borders on exhausting.”

  “Children are more resilient than you think, Charlie. If you’d like, I would be happy to talk with her.”

  I'm sure you’d like to double dip! You must have your sights set on another Hermes shoe.

  “Oh, and before I forget, I got your frantic message last night from my answering service. I don’t want to have to tell you again, that number is strictly for emergencies. Real emergencies!”

  “It was an emergency! Sean moved most of his things out last night! It was awful. Just an awful scene. Thank God Layla was at a birthday party down the hall!”

  “So this will be your first weekend alone with Layla?”

  “Yes, but I’m actually looking forward to this weekend!” she exclaimed. “My best friend Janie is coming up from Philly to visit on Saturday and she’s bringing her daughter Sarah. The kids are going to have a blast together. Janie and I are long over-due for a proper catch-up. I haven’t seen her in what seems like ages. She’s always trying to pamper me since she feels somewhat responsible for the whole Sean debacle.”

  “Why in the world would she feel responsible for your poor choices in life?” Dr. Harrison questioned, the sarcasm still present in her voice.

  “Well, it was Janie who forced me to go out with her that fateful night I met Sean at Cube Libre. We’re constantly asking ourselves about the ‘what ifs’…it’s almost become a little game!”

  “The ‘what ifs?”

  “You know, what if there hadn’t been a storm that night and my plane landed at Kennedy as scheduled instead of Philadelphia? What if I hadn’t done that last shot of tequila that threw me over the edge? What if Janie hadn’t forced me to go out with her and her roommates that night? Blah, blah, blah. But, alas, there was a storm and Sean was blown in my path,” she despondently whined with the hint of a smirk on her face. “But then I look at Layla and I can’t imagine my life without her in it.” Charlie’s smirk turned into a full-blown smile and her spirits momentarily lifted. “She’s too good to be true. It’s almost like I won the lottery without having even bought one single ticket!” she dreamily said, then briefly fantasized about all the shoes she could buy if she did, in fact, win the lottery.

  “We’re definitely making progress, Charlie. A few months ago you would have told me, ‘when I look at my collection of shoes, I can’t imagine my life without them in it.’ Right?”

  Charlie blushed and looked down guiltily, deciding she wasn't going to tell Dr. Harrison what she’d just been thinking. If her shrink knew she’d been day dreaming about shoe shopping with imaginary lottery winnings, it would set her back at least a month in therapy and Lord knows, she couldn’t afford that.

  When Charlie arrived to pick-up Layla from school, she was standing alone in the corner of her classroom, sucking her thumb. Charlie marched over to her and grabbed her hand while scolding her for acting like a baby.

  “You’re not a baby anymore!” she bellowed, before hastily yanking her thumb from her mouth and handing her a lemon lollypop instead. It made her wonder if her daughter had inherited Sean’s genes with the obsessive oral fixation she couldn’t seem to break. It had been so hard to get her to give up the pacifier when she turned one and now it seemed to Charlie that she was right back to square one. Maybe, I should have given Sean a binkie a long time ago and all of my problems might have been avoided!

  For the moment, Charlie vowed to keep a close eye on Layla. All she needed was for her daughter to pull that stunt at the audition and then they’d be doomed. She checked her purse to make sure she had lots of suckers to keep Layla’s mouth sufficiently occupied.

  “Is daddy coming?” Layla sadly questioned with her lips all sulky and a dejected look on her face. It came out as a squeak. She then popped her thumb back into her mouth and started to eagerly suck away.

  Charlie’s heart sank like the Titanic. Layla was such a sweet little girl. She didn’t deserve a jackass for a father. When Layla had been born, she had a full head of shockingly black hair that eventually turned into pale golden blonde curls-most likely inherited from Sean’s Irish side of the family. He called her his “little shamrock princess” and lavished her with whatever her heart desired. But, ever since Sean found out that Lizbeth was pregnant, it was as if Layla didn’t even exist anymore. It was heart wrenching to witness. Not only did she cry for him daily, but the thumb sucking had ramped itself up into a constant fixation. Her thumb was actually raw!

  Charlie made a mental note to schedule an appointment with their dentist, Dr. Polti, to have a mouth guard inserted. She was going to do everything in her power to make sure Layla’s oral fixation was stopped dead in its tracks. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to turn out like Sean, putting things in her mouth that didn’t belong there.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I can't concentrate in flats.”

  Victoria Beckham

  “Sean asked me to have sex with him yesterday,” Charlie told Dr. Harrison.

  Her doctor’s eyes widened in surprise and Charlie almost let out a giggle. It was rare to catch Dr. Harrison off guard. “Come again?”

  “I said, Sean asked me to have sex with him yesterday,” she repeated, really slowly this time so her psychiatrist wouldn’t ask her to say it again, because it really was too painful to have to repeat for a third time.

  “He took the afternoon off from work the other day to move the rest of his things out, though I’m not sure why because he seems pretty hell bent on keeping the apartment. I tried to look busy, shuffling papers around the kitchen counter, checking to see if we needed milk, anything to appear as if I was going on with life as usual. Of course, he was onto me right away,” she proclaimed, remembering the awkward conversation that took place in the living room that afternoon.

  “Charlie, just what is it that you do with yourself all day besides shop for shoes?” he had inquired when he noticed her aimlessly wandering around the living room, desperately looking for something to keep her hands busy. She’d already fanned out t
he magazines on the coffee table and fluffed the pillows on the sofa three times. When he cornered her by the window and asked the question, she had felt like she was being interrogated by a high-power criminal attorney.

  “I find that question to be offensive and inflammatory,” she quipped back before announcing, “I’ll have you know that I haven’t been shopping in days!” and justifying in her mind that the dainty pair of hand beaded silk slippers she’d bought the other day didn’t count because they really weren’t shoes, in the true sense of the word. She hadn’t been able to resist buying them when she noticed how they were displayed like a priceless work of art at the Jimmy Choo boutique. She must have circled them a dozen times while trying to talk herself out of trying them on. But, the pull had been too great. She eventually caved and asked the salesman to bring her a size eight. Once they were on her feet, she knew there was no turning back.

  Charlie suddenly felt nervous and began to perspire. Sean probably saw them in their pale pink box by the foot of the bed when he was packing up his things, she reasoned to herself. She knew she should have put them away! Maybe if I explain the difference between a shoe and a slipper, he’ll withdraw the question without prejudice, she anxiously hoped.

  Thankfully, Sean didn’t comment further on the matter. He was too preoccupied with the business of packing up his old life and moving on with his new one. A life made complete with a much younger wife who was more than capable of spending his money faster than he could make it.

  When her soon-to-be ex-husband was getting ready to leave, his Goyard luggage piled neatly by the front door in perfect little rows, he asked if she would be willing to sit down at the kitchen table to discuss a few things. She immediately sat down, not because she wanted to, but because she was so used to doing what he always asked. It was like a knee jerk reaction. She scooped up Coco and carried the little dog over to the kitchen seating nook and perched her on her lap.