by Jackie Rose
“I don’t need a shrink,” I snapped. “I’m just having normal pre-wedding jitters.” It wasn’t a total lie—a lot of my current problems could, in fact, be chalked up to nerves (Bride, April: “Are You a Runaway-Bride-To-Be?”).
“This stuff has gone way beyond that. And not that I’m complaining, but you haven’t even been to the gym. In fact, you’ve barely gotten out of bed since Wednesday. You’re obviously not yourself.”
Ohmygod. Was he getting suspicious?
“If you don’t agree right now to let me make an appointment for you,” he continued, “then I’m going to tell my mother not to send them out.”
“I’m not crazy, Bruce,” I said, trying to sound like I believed it. “Maybe not. But you’re well on your way.”
An immediate concession was required.
“I got fired.”
“What?” he sat up.
I nodded. “That’s why I’m freaking out.”
“Oh, Evie, no. This is bad… This is really bad.”
“I know that, Bruce,” I sniffled.
“When?”
“Yesterday, when I got home from the doctor. Pruscilla called….” I said, then instantly regretted it. Why didn’t I tell him I got fired on Tuesday? That would have explained my weirdness all week.
“Shit. What are you going to do?”
“You mean, what are we going to do…” I corrected him.
“Evie, you have to find another job. Right away,” he said. “You’ll start looking tomorrow.”
“I can’t, Bruce! I can’t go out and find a job just like that! It takes time. And I don’t know where to look…” I coughed through the tears. “I can’t…I can’t…. I don’t know what I want to do with my life….”
He breathed out deeply. “Okay, okay…forget the job for now. Maybe you need a little more time. But Monday morning, I’m making an appointment for you. You’re going to see someone. And that’s that.”
“Fine,” I cried.
In the morning, Bruce went out to get us some breakfast, and I pounced on the chance to empty the closet. It was only a matter of time before he saw that losing my job had nothing to do with losing my mind, and then he might start to wonder. And I didn’t need any shrink to tell me that getting those clothes out of this apartment would be therapeutic.
After a quick shower (I hadn’t had one in three days), I was ready. I opened the bag and pulled out the suit. Although it was crumpled up in a ball and smelled like smoke, it still looked pretty good. The thought of actually wearing it, however, made my stomach churn. Even though it was the only summer-weight wool suit I had in a dark color besides black, I was beginning to sense that no amount of dry-cleaning would ever get it clean enough. I stuffed the suit back in the bag.
Enough was enough. I would throw it out. Throw the suit out and start my life fresh. Bruce and I could never be happy with this suit hanging in my closet. I grabbed a big black garbage bag from the kitchen and tossed in a couple sections of the paper and an empty milk carton, for a realistic effect. I brought it into the bedroom and shoved the suit bag into the bottom. Although in the past weeks I’d probably cried enough tears to fill the East River, I squeezed out a few more and vowed they’d be my last.
“What are you doing?”
Bruce was standing right behind me.
I spun around, wiping my eyes.
“What’s that?” he asked again. He was holding a bag of bagels from our favorite place and two big coffees. “Why are you crying?”
“I…I didn’t hear you.” My heart pounded deafeningly in my ears.
“So?”
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, and tried to laugh.
He put the stuff down on the dresser and looked into the bag.
“I was just about to clean out my closet.”
I guess he didn’t believe me, because he reached down into the bottom and removed the bag. He opened it, and looked at me.
“You see? I was cleaning out my closet. Just doing a little cleaning! Ha, ha!”
“What’s wrong with this?” He took the jacket out and looked at it. “It smells like smoke.”
“That’s why I’m getting rid of it. It reeks,” I said, making a face. “And I know how much you hate smoke….”
He must have felt something in the pocket because he reached in and pulled out the demon thong. And the bra that matched.
“Why are these in here?”
“I don’t know?” I offered.
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS SHIT DOING IN YOUR POCKET?”
It was too much. I broke down. I sobbed hysterically. Bruce stood there stiffly, waiting for me to compose myself.
After what felt like an eternity, I took a deep breath and said, “It’s…what you’re thinking.”
“It better not be,” he whispered.
I stared at my fingers.
“Who?”
How could I tell him? I shook my head.
“WHO?” he screamed, and slammed his fist on the dresser. The coffees tumbled over onto the floor.
I couldn’t say his name. “My trainer.”
He kicked the wall three times, hard, and stormed out of the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed.
I crawled back into the bed, vowing never to leave it again.
When I woke up, I heard Bruce on the phone in the living room, yelling.
“I told you, the wedding’s off!”
Silence.
“No! I don’t want to talk about it. You think this is embarrassing? Just be thankful you didn’t send the invitations out. I’m hanging up now!”
More silence.
“Thanks. I know. I’m sorry. No. No! I’ll be fine. But you’re going to have to back off on this for now, okay? And could you tell Dad?”
Fine? How could he even anticipate being fine?
He stomped into the bedroom and turned on the lights.
“Pack a bag and get out. I don’t care where you go.”
“Bruce—” I sobbed. “Bruce. Don’t…”
“Just get out,” he said, and left.
What else could I do? I put Granny Fulbright’s engagement ring on the bedside table, packed a bag and got the hell out of Dodge. I called Morgan from the cab and left a message telling her I was on my way. Going to Mom’s wasn’t an option. And maybe I’d somehow be able to fix everything before she found out. Maybe Bruce wasn’t serious. He was just angry. Furious. And rightfully so. Calling off the wedding was a perfectly natural reaction for a man who just found out his fiancée had slept with someone else. Wasn’t it? He’d probably cool down in a few days. Or maybe not.
I waited for three hours in the lobby of Morgan’s building. The doorman took pity on me, and let me sit inside because it was pouring. Happy young couples came and went, chatting amiably about where to go for dinner. Wasn’t anybody in this city single? I wished upon every smug one of them the misery I was now experiencing.
Finally, just when I thought I’d have to seriously consider getting a hotel room, Morgan and Billy swept in with their suitcases.
“Evie?”
I ran up and hugged her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “What happened to your hair?”
“I tried to call, but your cell wasn’t on. Did you get my message?”
She shook her head and looked lovingly at Billy. “We just got back from Atlantic City.”
“Oh yeah,” I said.
“Hey, Evie. How’s it going?” Billy said.
“Fine, I guess.” I really hadn’t anticipated this. Having a nervous breakdown in front of Billy was not what I’d envisioned.
“Come, come upstairs. Billy, take this,” she said, handing him my bag.
“Thanks,” I said weakly.
“So what’s going on?” she asked as we rode up the elevator to her rent-controlled two-bedroom on the twelfth floor. For her twenty-fifth birthday, Morgan’s mother had bribed a Realtor to get her into the building. “Is Bruce out of town
again? Do you want to stay with me? I thought he was finished with all that for the summer.”
“I just wanted to see you,” I said, hoping she’d know immediately that I was lying.
She squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve got something to tell you.”
It was already past eleven, but she put on some coffee anyway. Billy went into the bedroom to change.
“You’ll never guess what happened,” she began excitedly.
“What?” I couldn’t have been less interested. Why wasn’t she asking me about me?
“I won at roulette! Over $5200! I put $150 down on black 13, Billy’s birthday. And it came up!”
“Wow. That’s great.”
“I know,” she gushed. “Can you believe it?”
“Good luck must run in your family.”
“Yeah right. My mom’s husband’s the one who won the lottery. But I have another theory—our men are lucky. Without Billy, I never would have picked 13!”
“Imagine that,” I said. “Listen, Morgan…”
Billy emerged from the bedroom wearing boxers and a T-shirt. He was pretty built. I’d never noticed before. No wonder Morgan was having such a hard time cutting him loose.
“Did you tell her?” he asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“Yeah,” I said flatly. “Pretty amazing. Lucky 13.”
“No,” he laughed. “Not that.”
“I was waiting for you,” Morgan smiled at him.
Billy grabbed her hand and kissed it.
“Evie…there’s something I have to ask you. Something important…”
“Spit it out, Morgan.”
“Okay, okay!” She took a deep breath. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
The air conditioner hummed. They stared at me.
“Did you hear me? Billy asked me to marry him, and I said yes!” She held up her left hand to show me the ring.
“Uh… Oh, God! I’m…I’m so happy for you,” I squeaked, and started crying. Sobbing, actually. There was no pretending these were tears of joy.
Billy looked at Morgan nervously. She motioned for him to leave and he dutifully obeyed.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I got fired….”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Well that sucks, but can’t you at least be happy for me right now? I don’t mean to be a bitch, but—”
“…and Bruce found out about You-Know-Who. He called off the wedding.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, Evie. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I sighed, waving off her apology. “But he kicked me out. And I don’t want to stay with my mom. I haven’t even told her. So would it be okay if I…”
“Of course. You can stay here as long as you need. Wow. I’m really sorry, Evie. I can’t believe it.”
Billy popped his head into the kitchen. “Um…sorry, but I’m going to go down and get a paper and some milk for tomorrow.” He probably wanted to get as far away from this conversation as possible.
“Okay,” Morgan said, and blew him a kiss.
“God, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a downer,” I told her. “I’m happy for you, Morgan. I really am. Billy’s a great guy.”
“Yeah, I know. Tell me what happened, Evie. I’m just so…in shock, I guess. Are you okay?”
“You know what? I don’t feel like talking about it right now. I’m completely drained. It’s been the worst weekend of my life. Make that the worst week. I’m sick of crying and I’m sick of talking. So I want to hear about you now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Whenever you feel ready to talk about it, you just tell me.”
“Fine. So how did he propose?”
“Well,” she began cautiously, “when we got there, the suite was filled with flowers. White, red and pink roses…”
“Where were you staying?”
“The Taj Mahal.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“So, yeah, the flowers. They were everywhere. Tons of them. I didn’t really think anything of it, I guess, because he does that sort of thing all the time. Then he drew me a bath. There was a bucket of champagne waiting on ice…”
“God, are you serious?” It sounded pretty cheesy to me.
“Uh-huh. I got into the tub. He joined me. I thought we were just going to fool around, but then he pulled a little plastic box out from under the bubbles.”
Despite my misery, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Plastic? He thought of everything.”
“He must have hidden it between his cheeks because I totally didn’t notice it. Anyway, there it was. He said something like, ‘I adore you, blah blah blah, you mean the world to me, blah blah blah,’ I don’t really remember exactly what, and then I opened the box and said yes! Simple as that—it didn’t hurt at all!”
“Wow.”
“He’s a true romantic,” she sighed.
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.”
“I am?”
“Come on, Morgan! Don’t pretend this isn’t weird. I feel like I’m in an episode of The Twilight Zone. I don’t mean to be blunt, but…what the hell happened? I mean, last month you barely wanted to commit to breakfast with the guy, let alone the rest of your life.”
“That’s a very valid point,” she laughed. “But a lot can change in a month.”
“Tell me about it,” I mumbled.
She looked at me with the saddest eyes. “Well, I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, but I have you to thank, actually. Talking to you about the possibility of you sleeping with Jade got me thinking that marriage might not be a bad thing, provided you go into it with the right attitude. I’ve been thinking about it a lot…. Look at Peter, for example. He’s got a great wife he loves and this whole family life thing going on, and then he’s got me on the side for a little excitement and good sex. It works great for him. And with you…well, not anymore, maybe, but before it was like, Bruce and you were perfect for each other, but you could also have this little fling just for yourself, and otherwise share your life with a wonderful person who adores you and cares about you.”
It was a bit much to hear, and I gulped back some more tears.
“Sorry,” she said. “But that’s where I’m at right now. I was giving you all this advice that I should really have been taking myself. So I did. You think I want to go from one noncommittal relationship to the next for the rest of my life? I want to be more than just the Other Woman. I want to be the one who has it all. I want to be the one with somebody on the side.”
I was starting to get annoyed. “But you do have somebody on the side,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t really count unless you’re the one who’s married. That’s when you make a real commitment, so breaking it becomes all the more exciting. Before this, I was just Billy’s sometimes girlfriend and your average homewrecker…well, above-average, actually. But I want more. I want more than just a life as a tramp or a boring old housewife. So I’m creating another option for myself.”
“That’s pretty dark, Morgan. Getting married because it makes the cheating better probably isn’t the best idea. In fact, you’re making me sick just saying something like that.” Here I was, my heart and my life ripped in two because I had done exactly that, and she was actually going to seek it out. Morgan thought it was just about getting a thrill here and there, to keep things interesting, but she didn’t realize how serious it was. I don’t even think I did until that very moment. How could I have expected anything good to come out of something that would hurt Bruce?
“Don’t judge me just yet, Evie. That’s not the only reason. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was running out of excuses not to fall in love with Billy. And then as soon as I allowed myself to feel something for him, it happened really fast. He’s sexy, smart. And he makes a shitload of money.”
“And he worships you.”
“What about kids?”
“Oh, we’d make beautiful kids.”
“I know, but have you told him you don’t want any?”
“Yup, and he agreed.”
“And how did he find out about your little change of heart?”
“I told him. I guess he bought the ring the next day.”
“Before you could change your mind, probably.”
“Exactly,” she laughed.
There was no point in trying to get her to see things differently. I think it was Oprah or Ghandi or someone like that who said that it’s the way we deal with our mistakes, not our successes, which define us as human beings. Like me, Morgan had a long road ahead of her.
“Okay, then, I approve,” I told her. “It sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”
“If not, there’s always divorce,” she grinned. “And I think Billy would make a fabulous first husband.”
I laughed and hugged her. “You go on toying with people’s lives, sweetie. It’s what you do best,” I said, getting up. “I think I’m going to crash. I’m completely exhausted. Tell Billy I said good-night, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Evie. About what happened.”
“I know. Thanks.”
I stayed in bed for precisely four days, venturing out only at lunch and dinner to answer the door for the delivery guys. Bruce must have known where I was, but he didn’t call once. And I was far too afraid to call him. Same thing went for Mom. I checked our messages at home every morning, but nothing—although you’d think she would have called me once over the course of a week, just to say hi, but she didn’t. Unless Bruce had answered, and told her I was out or something. But I was almost sure he wouldn’t be answering the phone at all. He was probably too depressed to speak to anyone.
On the fifth day, Morgan threatened to kick me out if I didn’t do something productive with my time. Since I couldn’t bear the thought of looking for a job yet, I decided to just sit in Central Park for a few days and think about my miserable life. I must have eaten at fifteen different hot-dog carts. I didn’t care if I got fat. What did it matter? There was no dress to fit into, no trainer to impress. Once, I thought I saw Bruce, which wouldn’t have been so weird because his school was only a few blocks away, so I followed him all the way to the zoo. But it turned out to be someone else.
