by ANDREA SMITH
“Yes,” he remarked, “if only I could motivate Sammie to finish furnishing it. Hey, perhaps Susan could help with some ideas on what the house needs to bring it all together. She’s done an awesome job on my office.”
“Oh, Mr. Dennison,” she gushed, almost blushing, “I just narrowed the choices down. You made the ultimate selection. Your husband has great taste by the way.”
“Now, Susan,” Jack admonished with a smile, “There’ll be none of this Mr. Dennison stuff. It’s Jack.”
“Yes, Jack,” she replied obediently. “I keep forgetting.”
I felt like a voyeur watching their interaction as I remained clueless as to why she was even here. I was hoping my husband was going to clue me in.
“Sammie,” he said, as if sensing my curiosity, “I invited Susan to dinner. We have some work to finish up and I thought we might as well work here in my office. I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, babe.”
“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” I lied. “I’ll just set another place.”
“Can I help?” Susan asked.
“Everything’s done,” I replied. “All that’s left is to take our places.”
Dinner was strained. I felt like an intruder on both the small talk and office talk between Jack and Susan. She looked to be about in her mid-thirties, if that. She certainly hung on Jack’s every word. I tuned them out, resuming my jog down memory lane.
I thought back to the ugly scene that had taken placed when I’d informed my parents that I was pregnant.
“I didn’t even know you were dating anyone,” my father had blurted out in pure confusion. “Why haven’t we met the boy?”
My mother had been less vocal, simply wringing her hands, like she always did when my father was upset or displeased about something. She constantly ran interference when I had occasion to disappoint him.
I hadn’t been sure how to explain what had happened without fear of my father hunting Jack down and killing him in cold blood. I merely told them that we were both drunk one night and it just sort of happened. In other words, I mostly lied. I had been stone cold sober at the time.
I remember my father’s face turning red. He’d been livid about my behavior.
“No daughter of mine is going to be regarded as some party tramp,” he bellowed. “I want the name and address of this boy, and I want it now! He’ll damn well make this right. I’ll see to that.”
“Now, Sidney,” my mother had whined, “Keep calm, remember your blood pressure.”
Six weeks later, Jack Dennison and I had been married in a small civil ceremony in a judge’s chambers. The judge was one of my father’s closest friends.
Jack had been able to graduate high school with his class.
My parents gave us a seven-day cruise for our honeymoon. They purchased a two-bedroom condo for us as a wedding gift, and Jack was given an entry level position in the office of my father’s company. My father had fixed the situation for us. He had a knack of doing just that. Unfortunately, no amount of my father’s power or influence could force Jack to love me.
“Sammie? Hello?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking the memories of our shotgun wedding out of my mind for now. “What did you say, Jack?”
“I wondered if you made dessert.”
“Of course, Boston crème pie,” I replied, getting up to clear the dinner plates.
“Oh, none for me thanks,” Susan said. “I ate too much as it was. I’ll have to work out twice as long tomorrow morning.”
I watched as Jack openly admired his assistant’s physique.
“Speaking of which,” he said, “Susan belongs to a great fitness club just a couple miles north of here, Sammie. Perhaps you two could meet mornings and work out together?”
That was Jack’s not-so-subtle way of reminding me that I needed to get into shape. He worked out faithfully each day. Sometimes in the morning before work he stopped at his men’s club and sometimes after work. His physique was perfect.
“Maybe I will,” I replied. It was my standard reply to his nagging. If it shut him up for a day or two, then it worked.
After dessert, they both took mugs of coffee and went to Jack’s office, which was on the second floor. I cleaned up the kitchen, thankful that I didn’t have to continue to make small talk and observe Jack’s beautiful and shapely assistant. Maybe it was time I did focus on myself. Our daughter Lindsey had encouraged me before she left for Cornell to do just that.
“Mom, you never do anything just for you,” she’d stated. “It pisses me off, too.”
“Why would it piss you off?”
“Because Daddy indulges himself and you never do anything just for you.”
I’d argued that her father loved working out, buying new clothes for himself, and preening about. I just wasn’t sure I would get that much enjoyment or satisfaction from it.
“At least you should try,” she argued. “You need a hobby of some sort, besides looking after me and Daddy, especially now that I’m going away. I worry about you, Mom.”
“I’ll be fine, Lindsey. I swear that I’ll find something outside of the home to do once you’re gone, okay?”
“Promise?”
“Yes, Lindsey,” I’d replied, laughing. “You do realize that you’re a nag, right?”
I wiped the countertop off, thinking about my beautiful daughter. I missed her terribly. I knew that I would. We were close, very close. She’d made everything over the years worth it. Jack loved her - that was abundantly clear. Maybe that was all I could have hoped for under the circumstances.
I’d wanted more children, but Jack wouldn’t budge on that topic. He’d gotten a vasectomy when Lindsey was seven years old, due to my pressuring him for another. He came home one day and said I could put my diaphragm away (not that it had gotten much use anyway). He’d taken care of the problem, stating that one child was enough.
Jack had come from a family of four children. They’d struggled financially. He’d been the oldest and when his father had taken off when he was just twelve years old, he’d borne a lot of the responsibility while his mother worked two jobs. She’d finally remarried when Jack was sixteen, but by then, he’d had his fill of caring for his younger siblings. He hadn’t gotten on with his stepfather either. Even now, he had very little to do with his family.
The phone rang. I picked it up in the kitchen.
“Busy?”
“Hi Bec, just finished up the dinner dishes. What’s up?”
“Not much. George is in Chicago on business for a couple of days. I wondered if you wanted to hang out tomorrow. I figured you might be having Lindsey withdrawals.”
My friend knew me too well.
“That sounds great. I’ve been thinking I’m in dire need of having a spa afternoon. What do you think?”
“Let’s do it,” she said. “Meet me at Cappelli’s at noon. We’ll do lunch first.”
I was showered, wearing my sexiest nightgown and reading a book on my iPad when Jack came to bed. He was fresh from the shower, his brown locks still damp.
“Tired?” I asked.
“I’m beat,” he said, pulling the covers up and fluffing his pillow. “The light doesn’t bother me, though. Go ahead and read.”
I closed my iPad and set it on the nightstand. I switched the lamp off next to it and rolled over, scooting close to Jack.
I lowered my lips to his, kissing them gently. He wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me closer, his tongue briefly tracing my lips.
“Good-night, Sammie.”
“Jack, I kind of thought maybe we would make love tonight. It’s been a while.”
“Samantha,” he sighed, a bit of impatience in his tone, “I told you how beat I am tonight. Rain check?”
“Sure,” I said, rolling away from him. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
I lay in the darkness, a single tear escaped and rolled down my
cheek. Within minutes, I heard Jack’s even breathing signaling that he was sleeping.
What the hell was wrong with me? Becky said I was still gorgeous. That presumed I’d been gorgeous as a teen or as a twenty-something. I figured best friends were obligated to say things like that. Jack had never said that to me, though. I wanted Jack to think I was beautiful, or ravishing, or goddamn sexy.
My thoughts went back to the honeymoon cruise my parents had given us. Jack had been attentive then. He’d romanced me, charmed me, and we had sex every day of the cruise, sometimes even twice. The sex wasn’t what I’d expected. Jack avoided kissing during sex. He had a tendency to be a bit rough. I attributed it to the fact that Jack had been pressured into marrying me. Still, I loved him, for whatever reason.
Once we returned from our honeymoon, I’d busied myself decorating our new condo, buying baby furniture, and outfitting the nursery.
Jack’s family hadn’t bothered to acknowledge our marriage or the impending birth of our daughter. They did, however, periodically hit us up for money.
My father had started Jack out at a generous salary. Money had never been an issue for us, though I suspected this was all new for him. He loved having money and sometimes flaunted it a bit when he got together with his buddies while they were home on summer breaks from college.
Jack’s mother and step-father had come to the hospital to see Lindsey shortly after her birth. Jack’s mother, Louise, had commented that Lindsey was probably set for life. It was a strange comment. I’d looked over at Jack to see his reaction to her comment. He’d remained impassive to it. The truth was, I think he somehow enjoyed the fact that we were financially comfortable in life and that the rest of his family continued to struggle. I knew deep inside that was the only reason he’d allowed my father to force our marriage. Jack was set for life, too.
I turned over on my side, clutching my pillow beneath me. Why had I settled, though? Perhaps contentment was all that mattered to me. I’d busied myself with Lindsey and her activities, and Jack had participated as well. He’d coached her softball team and never missed her soccer games, school concerts or plays. He’d taught her how to drive, and was extremely protective of her when she’d started dating. He was the one who had insisted on taking her to Cornell for freshman orientation. I knew that he loved Lindsey. I just couldn’t figure out why he’d never come to love me.
I finally drifted off to sleep with the feeling of loneliness and uncertainty gnawing within me.
chapter 2
Becky and I spent a lovely afternoon at the spa. We were massaged, given facials, waxed, manicured, and pedicured. We were now sitting in the sauna, white towels wrapped turban-style around our hair, another wrapped around our torsos.
“Now, this is just what the doctor ordered, right Sam?”
“Yeah. It does feel great.”
“Come on, talk to me, Samantha.”
I knew that Becky wouldn’t let up until I shared whatever I was feeling with her. She knew me too well.
“It’s just that, with Lindsey gone, I have nothing, Becky. I need something of my own. I even promised Lindsey I would find it.”
“Okay, I get it. Lindsey is right, you know? I just can’t figure out why you had to hear it from your daughter. How many times have I told you the same thing?”
I got up from the bench and dipped the wooden ladle into the bucket of water, pouring it over the hot stones. I took my place back on the bench, pulling my knees up and resting my chin on them.
“I don’t know. I guess it was easier not to think about myself as long as I had Lindsey to take care of and to occupy my time with her activities.”
“That’s kind of a lot of bullshit, you know?”
I looked over at her quickly. Where was this coming from?
“You haven’t had to take care of Lindsey for quite some time, Sam. She just didn’t suddenly go from diapers to college in a day. You chose to fill your time over the past eighteen years by caring for her as an infant, then as an adolescent, but face it, once she hit her teen years, it was more of you and her buddying around together.”
“I’m not sure if I understand what you’re saying.”
“What I’m saying is that, once Lindsey reached the point where she was independent, you know, dating, going to dances and parties, you kind of lived your life vicariously through her. I mean, come on; think about it.”
I contemplated what she had said silently. She continued on a roll.
“All of the photos you took, the scrapbooks you made, the video journals you created to document the sports she played, the hobbies she had. What about you always being one of the chaperones on the class trips she took throughout high school?”
“What about it?” I asked, now getting a bit defensive.
“All I’m saying is that I can see why you’re suddenly out of sorts with what to do next. You can’t plan your life around Lindsey’s anymore. You need to find a life of your own.”
“What do you suggest? It’s different with you. You still have your two kids at home.”
“Yes, but I still have my own life, too.”
I thought about it, and it was true. Everything that Becky was saying was true. I’d centered my life on Lindsey’s. I’d not developed any interests or hobbies of my own. My only social activities, outside of volunteering at Lindsey’s high school, were occasionally hanging out with Becky, or Jack and I having dinner with my parents. My father was retired now. He and my mother traveled quite a bit, so even seeing them socially was rare these days.
“You’re right. I need to focus on myself. Jack has been nagging me to finish decorating the house. I guess I could throw myself into that.”
Becky rolled her eyes and sat up from her reclining position.
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about something for you, Sam. You aren’t into decorating. Let Jack decorate, if it’s so damn important to him.”
She shook her head as if she was becoming impatient with my cluelessness.
“I don’t know what you want me to say? I agree with you, okay?”
“You’re not getting it, Sam. Your daughter is off to college, so what? You’re going to try and build some kind of life around that mannequin husband of yours?”
I was taken aback. Becky had never taken such a harsh attitude with me, ever! She had always stood by me through everything, as far back as high school. She was Lindsey’s godmother, for Christ’s sake. Why was she giving me shit? I didn’t respond to what she said. I grabbed my thongs, putting them on my feet, and exited the sauna room, heading for the showers.
Once showered, I dressed and headed out to the front to pay the bill. Becky was just a couple of minutes behind me. I paid our spa bill, though Becky protested when I picked up her tab as well.
I was signing the credit card slip when I saw a stack of business cards on the counter in a holder that was labeled, “Take One.” I did, not even sure what the card said, but I liked the artwork on it. It was a slender woman in a kick-boxing pose. I shoved it into my pocket and headed out the door.
“Samantha, please,” Becky called after me. “Stop, I need to explain.”
I stopped on the sidewalk outside to look at her.
“Look,” she said, “all I’m saying is that you need to do something for you, Sam. Get a job, go back to school, or take an art class. Start living for yourself because you never have, and it hurts me to see that you have no identity of your own.”
“Gee, thanks Becky, I think. Have you considered that my fate is to just be a mannequin’s wife?” I hissed.
“I won’t apologize for that, Sam. You know how I feel about Jack. I’ve never pretended otherwise.”
She was being honest about that. Becky had little use for my husband. She considered him to be self-absorbed, demanding, and unable to bond or to be intimate with a woman.
I wasn’t sure how qualified she was to make such a diagnosis, b
ut I felt it was likely due to my intermittent complaints about him over the years. Perhaps it was my fault that Becky had developed the opinion she had of Jack. I never shared with her the good things about our life together.
“I know that you’ve never cared for him, but he is my husband and Lindsey’s father.”
“Just think about what I said, okay? I’ve got to run now. I’m late picking up Shawn from football practice. Call you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, later,” I said, suddenly absorbed in the business card that I’d picked up inside.
The name of the establishment was Foxy & Fierce Body Shaping Shop. It boasted several types of martial arts training, along with kick-boxing and yoga classes. Why the hell not?
I located Foxy’s in a somewhat seedy neighborhood not far from campus. I decided that if everyone in there was Lindsey’s age, I would turn around and leave. There was always the YWCA.
Once I stepped inside the doors, I was pleasantly surprised. The receptionist looked to be about the same age as my mother, but holy hell, was she ever fit.
“Hey, sweetie,” she greeted me, “what can I do you for?” I noticed her nametag read “Vonda.”
“Vonda,” I said with more enthusiasm than I’d felt for quite some time, “I want a body just like yours.”
chapter 3
It had been nearly four weeks since I started my membership at Foxy’s. I’d lost a total of twelve pounds, and dropped two sizes. My sweats were practically falling off of me. The part that I was most proud of, however, was the muscle tone that I’d developed, both in my lower and upper body.
The kick-boxing was awesome for building muscle tone in the legs. My other workouts included lifting with free weights for arms and shoulder toning, along with a Pilates class for my torso and abs. I’d been spending about four days a week at the gym. I hadn’t told Jack any more than that. He’d mumbled an obligatory, “That’s great, Sammie,” not bothering to feign interest.
I’d just wrapped up my workout for the day and showered when Vonda came into the locker room looking for me.
“Glad I caught you, Sam,” she said. “We need one more person to sign up for pole-dancing lessons. The instructor has a minimum registration number in order to meet what she charges. I figured you’d be perfect.”
