The Secret of Joy

by Melissa Senate

  Darren waved. He was early to midthirties and wore a short-sleeved dress shirt and khaki pants. His light brown hair was close-cropped, like a soldier’s. “I sort of told Ellie my life story when she came in one night to buy a roll of Tums. My wife had just told me on the phone that it was over.”

  “She said that on the phone?” Rebecca asked.

  “Well, not for the first time. She told me a couple of weeks ago that there was someone else, but then she changed her mind, said it was me she wanted, but then she changed her mind again.” His eyes pooled with tears, and Ellie handed him a tissue.

  Maggie leaned forward. “Let me ask you this, Darren. Was she difficult when she was your girlfriend? Always breaking up with you and then reeling you back in?”

  “How’d you know?” he asked before blowing his nose very loudly.

  “I’m just thinking that we expect people to change when we get married. Like me—I really thought my ass of an ex-husband would change when we went from just dating to being a married couple. Like he’d suddenly stop being a mama’s boy who expected the crust cut off his toast. Or that he’d stop staring at waitresses’ cleavage. But nothing changed when we got married. Just my name. I’m changing it back by the way. If I had children I might not, but I’m taking it back. Maggie McDonald.”

  “Good for you,” Ellie said, braiding her dark hair over one shoulder. “I’m not there yet. I feel like Ellie Rasmussen. Maybe because I wanted to be that woman for so long.”

  Tears pooled in Darren’s eyes again. “Sometimes I wonder if my wife ever loved me at all. I don’t know how she could have just suddenly fallen in love with someone else if she really loved me. But I don’t know. I thought she did.”

  “It’s such a hard question to answer,” Rebecca said. “My father cheated on my mother. I know he loved her. But something was able to pull him away from her in that moment—when he met the other woman.”

  Maggie’s hazel eyes sparked with anger. “But something shouldn’t be able to. If you’re committed, you’re committed. Period. End of story.” She glanced at Rebecca. “I don’t mean anything against your father, hon.”

  Rebecca squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. He did cheat. A vacation affair. But when it was time to go home, he just up and went back to my mother as though nothing happened. And something big happened. He must have fallen in love with the other woman to have the affair. But if he had been in love, how was he able to just drop her like that?”

  “I’m glad to say I don’t know,” Darren said. “I’ve never cheated on anyone, girlfriend or my wife. And I can’t imagine cheating.”

  Maggie patted his knee. “You’re a good man. I wish there were more of you.”

  “Well, there can’t be varying levels of ‘committed,’” Ellie said. “At least, there shouldn’t be. It’s either/or. I’m the kind of person who honors a commitment, but I guess some people, like my own jerk of a soon-to-be-ex-husband just can’t do that.”

  “You want to hear something crazy?” Lucy said. “My mother knew my father was having affairs from the time they got married until now. He was probably messing around with someone last night. But he came home every night, ever the loving husband, gifts for birthdays and anniversaries, was there for every-other-Sunday dinners with the in-laws. He’d never leave my mother and claims to love her. Is that still being committed?”

  “That’s a tough one,” Darren said.

  “Only if the wife doesn’t know,” Ellie said. “I mean, if she doesn’t know, everyone’s happy, right?”

  Rebecca thought about that. “My mother didn’t know. But even so, the marriage had to have changed, right? Wouldn’t the affair have made my father a different person, even though it didn’t continue? He’d cheated, he’d fallen for someone else. The dynamic between them must have shifted, even in small ways.”

  Maggie nodded. “I think the wife always knows. Because of just what you said, Rebecca—those subtle little changes. You know.”

  “I knew—suspected, anyway, until it was obvious,” Ellie said. “But sometimes ignorance really is bliss. I’d have my husband. I’d have my marriage. I wouldn’t know, so how am I hurt?”

  “You’re hurt because your husband is lying to you,” Darren said. “About where he’s going, what he’s doing. He’s living another life outside your marriage. And everything you think about him isn’t the truth.”

  Ellie leaned her head back and sighed. “Oh, yeah. I forgot all that.” She popped back up and grinned. “Don’t worry, guys. There’s no chance of me going back to Tim. Do you believe that my mother-in-law told me my expectations are out of whack? That it’s me who has to change, not him?”

  Maggie snorted. “Sounds like my former mother-in-law. ‘Boys will be boys,’ she told me. ‘Remember that and you’ll have a long, happy marriage.’ Long, maybe, but unhappy is more like it.”

  “I just want to state for the record again that not all men cheat,” Darren said.

  Ellie winked at him. “We know there are some good guys out there. We’re not that bitter.”

  “I’m a little worried I might be,” Lucy said. “I feel like I cut off my nose to spite my face. And I’m not even sure I did the right thing. Did I? By giving John an ultimatum? Marry me or we’re over? He says if I really loved him, I couldn’t just end it. He’s sort of right, right?”

  “Does he not understand what an ultimatum is?” Maggie asked. “He sounds manipulative. ‘No, stay and live my way, even though it’s breaking your heart. Because if you really loved me, your broken heart would be okay with you.’”

  Lucy nodded, but looked like she was about to burst into tears.

  Ellie moved over to the other side of Lucy and slung an arm around her shoulder. “Rebecca says it’s all about your breaking point, what’s acceptable to you and when it stops being okay. She says only you can really answer that. Right, Rebecca?”

  As if she were an expert on anything to do with relationships. The people in this room were the experts, the ones who’d been married, who were married, who’d been through the ups and downs, the thick and thin—especially the thin. “I do think it’s true that only you yourself can know when you’ve reached your own limit. Sometimes it takes a while to realize that what your friends and family have been telling you is the truth. Short of an intervention, no one can tell you what’s unacceptable to you. If I tell you, Yeah, you shouldn’t feel or think or do X, Y, Z, it’s not going to matter unless you believe that, too.”

  Lucy nodded again, her eyes tearing up. “I know he doesn’t really love me, not that way. Not the way he loved his last girlfriend, the one he proposed to. She didn’t want to marry him, though. I know he doesn’t feel about me the way he felt about her.”

  “I’m so sorry, Lucy,” Rebecca said. “I’m glad you found this group. I’m glad you all found each other. It helps just to talk about it, doesn’t it?”

  “It really helps,” Maggie said. “You know what also helps? Tequila.” She moved over to the buffet table by the window, where there were four bottles of tequila, a shaker, two bottles of triple sec and a bottle of lime juice. “Anyone not want salt?”

  And for the next half hour, there was much drinking and crunching of nachos, piled high with beef, pinto beans, cheese, guacamole, sour cream, and salsa. The conversation turned to lighter, funnier subjects, such as the rudest customer at Rite Aid or the time Maggie found another Realtor having sex with a potential buyer in a house she was showing.

  Ellie tinged the side of her glass with a spoon. “Okay, so now we’re up to the burn-and-purge portion of our evening.”

  “Burn and purge?” Rebecca whispered to Maggie.

  “Pure brilliance,” Maggie said. “For our first meeting, we decided that we should all bring something that symbolizes our pledge to rid our asshole exes from our hearts, minds, and souls, and then we’ll chuck that thing into the fireplace and let it burn to nothing.”

  Ellie walked over to the fireplace. “I’ll go first.” She took
her wedding ring off and threw it in the fire.

  “Did you really just do that?” Maggie asked, her mouth gaping open. “Did you just throw your wedding ring in the fireplace?”

  “I did,” Ellie said, slapping her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe it. Does this mean I really mean it?”

  “You really mean it,” they all said in unison.

  Ellie bit her lip. “I’m signing the papers on Monday. To file for divorce. There are actual papers, with facts and figures and phrases like Rasmussen versus Rasmussen—that’s how much I mean it.”

  “You’re such an inspiration, Ellie,” Lucy said. She pulled something from her purse and walked over to the fireplace.

  “What is that?” Maggie asked.

  Lucy held up a white box with multicolored lettering. “My birthday present from John. It’s a box of alli. You know, the weight-loss supplement. If you cheat, you end up having rather embarrassing elimination issues.”

  Ellie’s mouth fell open. “Oh my God. That’s what he gave you for your birthday?”

  Lucy looked like she might cry. “He said that maybe the reason he hasn’t proposed is because I could lose a good thirty pounds, that he heard wives always gained weight after marriage, and then I’d really be a house.”

  “What an asshole!” Darren said. “You wanted to marry this jerk?”

  Lucy burst into tears. “I deserve better than him. I deserve better than him. I deserve better than him.”

  “You most certainly do,” Rebecca and Maggie and Ellie said in unison.

  And into the fire went the box of alli. Lucy came back to the sofa with a look of determination on her face.

  Maggie reached into her purse and pulled out a folded newspaper clipping. “This is the poor moron who married my ex-husband a couple of weeks ago. I cut her bridal photo out of the wedding announcements. I was actually studying her, trying to figure out what she had that I didn’t, what was so special about her. And you know what? Yeah, she was the skanky bitch who stole my husband. But now she’s just some idiot who’s stuck with my jerk of an ex. She’s no one to envy.” And she tossed the newspaper clipping in the fire and they all watched it burn.

  Darren stood and walked over to the fireplace. “I brought a letter my wife wrote me the last time she said she wanted our marriage to work. Should I read it to you?”

  Everyone said yes.

  He cleared his throat. “‘Dear Darren, I am so sorry for all the pain and suffering I’ve caused you. I was wrong about Vincent—he is totally not the man for me. And he’s definitely not half the man you are. He was fired and was only pretending to look for a new job. Do you believe he was expecting me to pay his rent? Oh, Dar, baby, I miss you so much. I miss us. I love you, big bear. Tonight I’ll show you how much. Love, Carrie.’”

  “That’s worse than the alli,” Lucy said. “How transparent is she?”

  “And I guess she went back to Vincent?” Ellie asked.

  Darren nodded. “He got a new job.”

  “In the fire it goes!” Maggie said.

  Darren crumpled it into a ball and threw it in. “That did feel good. Empowering.”

  “So what’s going on with you?” Ellie asked Rebecca. “Did you make a decision about Michael? Are you and Theo seeing each other? What’s the scoop?”

  This wasn’t the time or the place to start talking about how sometimes you did grow apart from someone, someone that maybe you did love once. But what you needed began to change, maybe. And suddenly everything felt wrong. And then you met someone else, and he feels just right, like the baby bear bed. Then again, maybe it was the time and the place. It was about hope, about possibilities. And Rebecca had just started discovering that possibilities were everywhere—if you went for them, if you insisted upon them.

  “Michael and I are up in the air. My whole life in New York is up in the air. I am sort of seeing Theo. Trying to figure things out. Do you think that’s wrong? To be seeing him while I’m still involved with someone else?”

  “Well, you’re living here,” Maggie pointed out. “You’ve been here for, what, almost a month. You rented a house. You have a dog.”

  “It’s not fair to keep the New York guy hanging on, if that’s what you’re doing,” Lucy said. “I mean, I don’t know the circumstances, though.”

  “Circumstances shouldn’t make a wrong a right, though,” Darren said.

  “I don’t know,” Ellie said. “It’s not like Rebecca’s married. This is how and when you’re supposed to figure out who you want to be with. Before you get married.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Maggie said, raising her margarita glass.

  Everyone clinked. But Rebecca knew that what she was doing was still cheating. Married or not.

  Rebecca got the opportunity to properly thank Theo (for the doghouse and their incredible evening) later that night. And the next night. And the next. And on Friday, he was her official date to her housewarming party. Ellie and Maggie were there. And Arlene and Marianne. (Matteo was trying to work things out with the girlfriend.) And Victor and Victoria, their hands seemingly fused together.

  And an hour late, but bearing a beautiful orchid plant, were Joy and Harry.

  Rebecca couldn’t stop smiling like a fool. Joy was here. And not for any reason—such as to discuss something or because Rebecca had practically begged. She was here because Rebecca had invited her to her housewarming party. And she’d come.

  After tour after tour of her tiny house (which now bore a few new vases, candles, and plants, thanks to her guests), Rebecca came back down to the living room to find Joy and Maggie deep in conversation on the sofa. Rebecca sidled up, ostensibly to remove empty drinking glasses from the coffee table.

  “Oh, I wish I could, Joy,” Maggie was saying, “but Ellie and I promised one of the members of our Bitter Exes Club that we’d take him to a comedy club tomorrow night.”

  “Well, I guess I can scratch Ellie off my list,” Joy said, pushing her blond hair behind her shoulders. “Hmm. I’ve already asked Arlene and both my neighbors. No one’s available. I wish someone would start a pinch-sitting service in town—‘Need a babysitter at a moment’s notice, call us.’”

  “I’ll do it,” Rebecca said. I’ll babysit my nephew. And it’ll cost you nothing.

  Joy stared at her.

  Rebecca had to tread lightly here. She did have that one great morning at the library under her belt, but ever since the DNA argument, Joy had been very distant. “Rex does like my face, remember? And he knows me now—he’s seen me a few times.” C’mon, say yes.

  “Problem solved,” Maggie said, popping a Hershey’s Kiss into her mouth.

  “Problem solved,” Joy repeated, eyeing Rebecca. “Well, if you’re sure you’d like to, I’d really appreciate it.” She hesitated, then whispered, “Harry and I are attempting a real date. Getting dolled up, going out to a fancy restaurant. The works.”

  Rebecca beamed. “That’s great. What time should I be there?”

  “Six would be perfect.”

  “Six it is, and you get home when you get home. No set time.”

  Joy let out what Rebecca knew was a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

  I have a nephew, Rebecca thought for the hundredth time since she’d first seen Rex Jayhawk-Jones. The wonder of it never abated, though, never seemed anything less than magical. She had a sister and a nephew when a few weeks ago there had been no one.

  Rex was too adorable. Rebecca understood why this three-foot-tall little bundle of energy made Harry want to be a better person. Rebecca hadn’t spent much time around little kids—any kids, really. She’d had no idea just how funny and clever and interesting three-year-olds were. Rex wanted to be a cloud for Halloween, which he pronounced Hah-EEN. His favorite food was an apple slice, but maybe a chocolate brownie, or, no, “strawbry” ice cream. His favorite color was orange. His favorite person was Elmo—and his mommy and his daddy.

  She looked for Grandpa Strand in Rex’s face, and even thoug
h Harry’s coloring dominated—the brown hair, the hazel eyes, Rex had the Strand round eyes, the Strand nose, and the Strand chin.

  You are my nephew, Rebecca thought, watching Rex stack multicolored blocks on top of each other for the door of the fort they were building in the family room. She felt a surge of emotion in her heart for this little boy—because he was her nephew? Or because she knew the story of his parents, how much this child meant to them, and they meant something to her?

  “Wanna color wid me?” he asked, and they moved on to his collection of coloring books. He chose the robots, and for the next half hour, they colored five robots each, then Rebecca hung his little masterpieces up on the clothesline of artwork hung across the wall.

  Seven o’clock was his bedtime. And so they headed upstairs for teeth brushing and pajamas (footies with clouds and lightning bolts) and Rebecca read him three stories, all about pigs, but “none with wolves cuz they’re not so nice.” She was almost done with the third when she realized he was asleep, his little mouth open, one hand flung up on his forehead.

  God, he was precious. Rebecca didn’t have baby fever yet, but she could imagine having a little Rex of her own. She turned off the lamp and tiptoed out, leaving the door slightly ajar, then headed back downstairs, her heart full to bursting.

  Rebecca was reading one of the magazines on the coffee table when Joy and Rex returned home. Harry barely said hello before stomping downstairs to his half-finished basement.

  Uh-oh.

  Joy burst into tears, and Rebecca took her by the hand and led her to the couch.

  “Everything okay with Rex?” Joy asked, sniffling.

  Rebecca nodded. “He’s an angel.”

  “I’m just going to check on him. I’ll be right back.” She returned a minute later and sat down, tucking her legs underneath her. She didn’t look at Rebecca, didn’t say anything.

  “Joy?”

  Joy leaned her head back against the couch and stretched out her legs. “We just can’t get past the same old argument. I don’t know how we’re ever going to get past this. It’s my business. Why can’t he understand that? Why can’t he understand me?”