Once and Future Wife

by David Burnett

  “Have you seen the car seats?” he’d asked. “Same thing. And video monitors for their bedrooms, and different sizes of diapers. Oh, and the toys. They buzz and whistle and sing. A few times, I’ve heard them start when no one has touched them. At midnight, last Thursday, one of the trains began to toot.” Thomas had shaken his head. “I was in my office, grading papers, and I nearly jumped from my chair.”

  Jennie laughed at the image of Thomas falling from his chair.

  “There,” she said aloud. “Got it.” The stroller’s leg clicked into place.

  They set off down the street toward the Battery, walking along the seawall for almost an hour, watching the seagulls wheeling in the air overhead, looking at the sailboats in the harbor, feeling the warm breeze blowing in from the ocean.

  “Your daddy will be home soon, Louisa. We’d better start back.” Jennie peeked into the stroller and found Louisa’s eyes beginning to close. She smiled. She would enjoy having another chance to raise a baby. She would get it right this time.

  As they approached the house, Cecelia Cross was walking down the street toward them. Jennie sighed.

  “Ms. Bateman, you’re back again.”

  It had been over a month since she had been in Charleston.

  “It’s been—”Jennie decided she didn’t need to defend herself. “Yes, I am. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  Cecelia glanced into the stroller. “Thomas let you take the baby for a walk, alone?” Cecelia’s voice sounded as if she was shocked at the idea.

  “Well…yes.”

  “Doesn’t Thomas know? You were married, surely he knows about your…condition? I was just surprised he would…”

  Jennie opened the gate, ready to push the stroller through and close it behind them, turning to Cecelia first. “And what condition is that?”

  “Oh, well, I heard, someone told me, well, about your…nervous breakdown. You were in a hospital, or something?”

  “A hospital? Certainly not,” Jennie snapped. “Your information is very wrong, Ms. Cross. Who told you?”

  “Oh, just an acquaintance…” Cecelia smiled.

  “What acquaintance?” Jennie placed her hands on her hips and stepped toward her.

  Cecelia stepped back, her smile fading. “Oh, just…one day I was commenting about how nice you seemed to be and about how fond Thomas seems to be of you, and how calm and pleasant you seem to be…”

  Gag me. Jennie could feel her arms beginning to shake.

  “…and one of the girls said something about it…I really don’t recall exactly what…”

  Tasha. It figured.

  “Your information is wrong, Ms. Cross. Now, I need to put Louisa to bed. Have a nice day.” Jennie turned away and began to unbuckle the baby from the stroller. Her hands were shaking and she had difficulty operating the catch.

  “Come on,” she growled, yanking at it.

  “Do you need help? Let me…” Cecelia’s voice oozed sweetness.

  “I can do it myself,” Jennie snapped as the buckle popped open. She scooped the baby up in her arms and almost ran up the steps, slamming the door behind her. Holding Louisa in her left arm, she pounded against the door with her right fist. In her mind she was punching, first Cecelia’s face, then Tasha’s.

  Louisa began to cry and Jennie put her down on the floor. She looked through the window at Cecelia, who had stopped across the street to speak to a neighbor. They both looked in her direction and the neighbor waved tentatively.

  “Witch,” Jennie muttered.

  Suddenly Louisa yelped. Jennie glanced down, but could not see her. She rushed into the family room, finding that the baby had pulled a family photograph off a low shelf. The noise must have startled her. Thankfully the frame did not break.

  As Jennie picked up the baby and placed the picture back on the shelf, her eyes focused on Tasha’s face in the photograph. She was smiling as though taunting Jennie for “losing it.”

  “I’m not weak,” Jennie shouted at the photograph. “I’m perfectly all right. Do you hear me? I’m perfectly all right.”

  ***

  “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

  Jennie looked up at him and smiled. “I’m enjoying my dinner.”

  Her eyes roamed about the restaurant, originally a carriage house for the mansion next door. The architect had received an award from the Preservation Society for the renovation. He’d kept the original walls, much of the floor, and he’d found pieces of eighteenth century glass for the windows. From the outside, the mansion’s original owner might have expected to find his horse and carriage waiting as he strode through the door.

  The food was out-of-this-world good, five stars from Michelin. Her crab cakes were the most delicious ones she’d ever eaten.

  “You were quiet all afternoon. What’s wrong, Jennie?”

  She sighed, thinking of how she had lost her temper when Cecelia had told her what Tasha had said. “Why doesn’t Tasha like me?”

  Thomas looked surprised. “Why do you ask that? She does like you as far as I know…She’s never said anything to indicate otherwise.”

  Jennie told him about her conversation with the spider lady earlier in the day.

  “Why would Tasha tell her anything about me? Why would she say I had been in a hospital? I’ve worked hard to get over my…my problems. Why would she do that?”

  Thomas shook his head. “I’ve no idea. I mean…” He raised his hands, helpless. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

  “Please don’t. She would be angry at me for tattling on her.” She paused as she thought about Tasha. “It’s really strange, you know. She and I have actually been getting along better since, well, since Labor Day, I guess. She’s finally stopped calling me Ms. Bateman.”

  Thomas chuckled. “Well, that’s certainly progress. When did she talk with, what did you call Cecelia? The spider lady?”

  Jennie nodded, beginning to smile. “I don’t know. Could be it was some time ago…I’d feel a lot better if that were the case.”

  “If she’s behaving better now, it probably is.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t worry about the past.” Jennie smiled. “I’d rather think about the future anyway.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments as they finished dessert.

  “Would you like to open your present?” Thomas handed her the box he had placed on the table when they arrived at the restaurant.

  Jennie took it, shaking it gently. She carefully removed the paper and peeked inside.

  “Oh, Thomas, it’s beautiful,” she exclaimed as she took a long string of pearls from the box. “Oh, I love it. It’s so pretty.”

  She removed the thin chain she was wearing and placed the pearls around her neck.

  “Perfect length and they look terrific with my black dress.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you so much.”

  Neither spoke for a moment as Jennie gazed down at the necklace, thinking.

  “You gave me pearls for my birthday right before the Christmas when you asked me to marry you.”

  Thomas nodded.

  Jennie wondered what had happened to them, but she did not want to ask.

  “I suppose I’m rather traditional,” Thomas said.

  Jennie smiled, hoping he would keep with tradition and propose at Christmas.

  Party and Shopping

  Tasha and Alexis were walking across the campus in search of lunch.

  “You’re going to dinner with Jennie to celebrate your birthday?” Alexis dropped her jaw in surprise.

  “Why not? She takes you out every year.”

  “Well, yes, and she always invites you too, but you’ve never accepted her invitation before.”

  Tasha shrugged.

  “You call her Ms. Bateman to her face and names I won’t repeat behind her back. You ignore her when she comes to visit.” Alexis halted, her hand on her hip. “Since you avoid her phone calls, her texts, and her email, how did you even receive her invitation
? Did she hide behind a tree and ambush you on your way home from class?”

  “You’re so very funny. She called me. I answered. I accepted. That’s all.”

  “Come on, Tasha. What changed?”

  “Nothing changed.”

  They walked on for a few moments without talking, Alexis finally breaking the silence.

  “Why don’t you like her, Tasha?”

  Tasha stopped walking and turned to Alexis. “You know, you haven’t always liked her yourself. As I recall, you threatened to run away from home if the court ordered you to visit her. You planned to be a streetwalker on the docks.”

  Alexis laughed. “Right. You didn’t think I would be able to survive and you promised to slip food to me over the fence…I’ve never forgotten your vote of no confidence.”

  They both laughed.

  “Anyway,” Tasha said, “you did visit, and she seduced you.”

  “What?” Alexis’s mouth opened in surprise. “No…”

  Tasha laughed. “I don’t mean like that. She pretended to be nice. She claimed to have been sick…”

  “She was.”

  “Right. She made everyone feel sorry for her, the poor little thing. She walked off and left you, cheated on Dad, drank herself under the table. Then suddenly it was I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Puleese forgive me…Honestly. She got to you, and to Christa, and even to Amy. But I’ve always known she’s an evil witch, and she’s intent on breaking up my family.”

  “If you dislike her so much, why are you letting her take you to dinner?”

  “Free food…and I want to find out if she’s pulling wool over Dad’s eyes like she has yours. Besides, dinner at Cristobel’s would take a week of my allowance.”

  “You asked her to take you to Cristobel’s? Tasha, that’s not nice.”

  “She told me to choose. Anywhere I’d like, she said.” Tasha gave a wicked smile.

  ***

  Cristobel’s was a Mediterranean restaurant in a trendy part of town. The host had handed them menus after showing them to their table, and as Tasha exclaimed over the various entrees and tried to decide which one to order, Jennie’s mind was on Tasha, not the food.

  She still smarted over the idea that Tasha had talked about her and her past with Cecelia Cross. She had decided, though, she probably had been correct, that the conversation with Cecelia was from the past.

  While the two of them had certainly not become friends, Tasha did not appear to be as hostile as she once had. First, as she had told Thomas, Tasha had begun to call her Jennie, rather than Ms. Bateman. Jennie had long wondered whether she refused to use her first name in order to distance her from the family or if she did it simply to irritate her. In any case, it seemed to have stopped. Second, she had accepted her dinner invitation, the first time ever.

  Jennie had no ready explanation for the change in behavior. Perhaps Tasha had become accustomed to the idea of Thomas and Jennie being together. Or maybe Jennie had been around her enough for Tasha to realize Jennie wasn’t an evil person. Or, too, Christa might have talked with her.

  Whatever had caused Tasha’s behavior to change, it was certainly welcome. Jennie hoped to get to know Tasha better. After all, she and Amy had become friends. Why not Tasha?

  “So what is it like to have been born on Halloween?”

  Tasha looked up from her menu.

  “It was kind of cool, really. Course I never celebrated on my birthday when I was a kid, but we would have a party the weekend before or the one after. We’d all wear costumes and play games like pin the tail on the spider and broom ball.”

  “Broom ball?”

  Tasha chuckled. “Sort of like quidditch, but on the ground of course. Mom invented it and it became a tradition. The rules became more and more complicated as we became teenagers.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It really was…As we got older, Amy decided only a witch could be born on Halloween. Of course, a witch can be born any day of the year,” she smiled at Jennie, “but on Halloween? I had to be one. She was insistent. Once, she suggested they tie my hands behind my back and toss me in the harbor. She said if I floated it meant I was a witch. If I drowned, then not.”

  “She didn’t,” Jennie exclaimed.

  “She did suggest it. When she was twelve, the week before Halloween, she and Christa made a big production of making a witch bottle.”

  Jennie wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

  “It was a glass bottle with rusty nails, sea salt, and wine inside. She tied a red ribbon around it and sealed it with wax from a black candle.” Tasha laughed. “She found the directions online, and she must’ve sneaked the wine from one of Mom and Dad’s open bottles. It was supposed to protect her from my power.” She shook her head. “I’m truly a wicked person.”

  “What would you like to drink?” The waiter was tall, with jet-black hair and deep brown eyes. Jennie almost laughed at the expression on Tasha’s face.

  “Oh, uh, oh…I’d, I’d like a glass of wine, please.” Tasha’s face had turned a deep red. “Merlot.”

  The waiter asked to see her ID.

  She began to shuffle cards in her wallet. “I have it. I have it…Here. My real one.” She proudly held out her license.

  “Your real one?” Jennie managed to seem surprised.

  “I mean, I mean…” Her eyes met Jennie’s. “My real age. I’m twenty-one now.”

  “I see.”

  “Oh, Jennie, come on. Don’t tell Dad,” Tasha begged.

  Jennie managed to hold her disapproving expression for a couple of seconds. “I suppose the statute of limitations expires on your birthday.” She smiled, and Tasha sighed in relief.

  “Not for Dad. He would kill me if he found out, even if I had already turned thirty.”

  Jennie noticed the waiter was still standing beside their table, smiling, waiting patiently.

  “And for you?”

  “She’ll have the same thing,” Tasha said.

  Jennie’s head snapped up, surprised. “I will? I mean…”

  “You don’t have to drink the whole glass, Jennie, just a sip to toast my birthday,” she begged. “It won’t be a real toast if you don’t use wine.”

  “All right then.” Jennie turned to the waiter. “Yes, I’ll have the same.”

  I don’t really need to drink it…just let it touch my lips.

  Jennie noticed the surprise on Tasha’s face, almost like she hadn’t expected Jennie to agree.

  “It’s okay. I can have wine, Tasha. I just haven’t had any since…in a long time.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to make certain no one was listening. “I’ve stopped taking my medication too.”

  “You’re joking.” Tasha’s eyes were wide.

  “No. I decided you were right. Only a weakling depends on pills to get through the day. I’ve been off the meds for two months now.”

  “Are you afraid if you drink…”

  “Drinking was a symptom of my problem, not the cause…and I’m not having any problems. I’m fine. I’m happy, energetic…I’m fine.”

  Tasha lowered her eyes, and Jennie wondered if she’d noticed a sly smile flicker across her face, as if she had outsmarted her in some way. Then she pushed the thought aside. Why look for trouble where there was none.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks. Let it be our other little secret for now. Okay?”

  “Surely. No problem.”

  The waiter brought their wine and took their orders. Jennie ordered majadra, a combination of rice, lentils, and caramelized onions.

  “And fellaheen salad,” she said. “I must not forget the salad.”

  Tasha asked for the salad too, and selected lamb kabobs over rice.

  As the waiter left, Jennie sniffed her wine and smiled. She raised her glass.

  “To Tasha. Welcome to adulthood.”

  “To adulthood,” Tasha replied.

  Jennie tipped her glass, pretending to sip the wine. It sm
elled so good, reminding her of sitting close to Thomas in front of a fire on cold winter evenings. She closed her eyes and remembered those early years of her marriage, and she allowed a little of the wine to trickle down her throat.

  “That’s so good,” she whispered.

  “What did you say?”

  “Oh, the wine tastes really good, like the wine Thomas—your father—drinks before dinner. I’d forgotten.”

  “It is good. My favorite.” Tasha took a big sip of hers. “You need to hold the wine on your tongue for a moment.” She motioned for Jennie to try it. “I read that somewhere. Then you really get all of the flavor.”

  Jennie placed her hand on the stem of her glass. This wouldn’t be a problem. It was whiskey that had caused Jennie’s problems before, not wine. She drank wine back in college, and when she and Thomas were married they would have a glass before dinner. She’d been off her meds and she’d had no problem. A little wine? No big deal.

  I’ll be fine…

  She lifted the glass and swirled the contents before taking a proper sip. It would be a shame to waste a good glass of merlot.

  The waiter returned then, with their salads, and they ate quietly for several minutes before Jennie placed her fork on the plate and sighed. “Delicious.” She felt warm and relaxed—a way she wasn’t used to feeling with Tasha.

  “I’ll have another glass of wine with dinner, I think.” Tasha finished her salad and eyed Jennie’s half-empty glass. “How about you? I mean, if you think you can handle another.”

  “Oh, ah…all right. Another glass for me too,” she told the waiter.

  “Suppose I bring the remainder of the bottle,” the waiter suggested. “It will be a bit more than the two additional glasses and will actually be less expensive than the four you have ordered.”

  “That will be good.” Tasha spoke before Jennie could respond. The waiter left with their order and Jennie emptied her glass in a single gulp.

  “You look very nice tonight, Tasha.”

  “Thank you. Dad sent me money for my birthday and I bought some new clothes. He always gives me a present, but without Mom he didn’t feel as if he knew what I would really like, so he sent me a check too.”