I went into my own bedroom and locked the door. I didn't even have the energy to wash up, just pulled on a nightgown and got into bed.
I thought of what he had said and what I had said, and what I should have said. The whole situation was just so sad that I wanted to weep, and I did, for a short while.
It suddenly struck me that the day had been utterly bizarre.
I had spent eight hours trying to create a fragrance that would make people more loving, more caring, and I had ended the day screaming at an uncaring mate whose love seemed reserved for himself I think it may have been then, in the hour or so that it took me to fall asleep, that I began to wonder if the solution to my personal problems might not lie in the solution to my professional problems. it was possible.
The reason I was putting on weight was that I was so unhappy.
I told that to Dr. Noble, and all she said was, "Mmm." But I really believed it. I know I wore a size 6 when I got married and now I wore a 12. That tells you something, doesn't it? When you're unhappy, you're snacking all the time, like Pepperidge Farm cookies and M amp;Ms. I wasn't a fatso, not yet I wasn't, but I was more zaftig than I wanted to be. I know my boobs were bigger and also my fanny. That was okay, I could live with that. But I was beginning to get flab under my upper arms, and my thighs were getting loose. That revolted me.
I mean I used to have a fantastic figure, everyone said so.
I wore the world's teeny-weeniest bikinis. But I guess those days are gone forever. Now I wear a swimsuit with a built-in bra and a skirt, for God's sake. I knew I looked exactly like what I was, a plump housewife with a freezer full of frozen packages of macaroni and cheese.
That's why it gave my ego a boost when Herman came on to me. I knew he played around a lot, but it was good for my morale to know there was at least one guy who had the hots for me.
I sure as hell wasn't getting any heavy breathing from my husband.
One morning, after Marleen and Greg had left for work and the kids were out playing, Herm came over for a cup of coffee. I made instant for both of us and sat down at the kitchen table with him.
I put out a plate of jelly doughnuts.
"What's with you?" I asked him. "You look worn out."
"I guess," he said, sighing. "Marleen and I had a big goaround last night."
"Yeah? About what?"
"I forgot it was our anniversary. She made a special dinner and bought a bottle of wine. I came home late, and she got sore."
"She'll get over it," I told him.
"I don't think so," he said. "She wants a divorce."
"Oh, shit," I said.
"My sentiments exactly. We talked about it again this morning before she left for work, and she's bound and determined.
She's going to see a lawyer."
"I'm sorry, Herm."
"Yeah. I am, too. Listen, Mabel, I hope you won't tell anyone about this. Not even Greg."
"Of course not. What happens now?"
"I don't really know. I guess I'll move out and take a motel room somewhere. Maybe if I'm not around for a while, she'll calm down and change her mind."
"Maybe," I said.
We finished our coffee and doughnuts. I stood up, and started putting the dishes in the sink. I was wearing an old ratty robe and my hair was up in curlers, but it didn't seem to bother him.
He got up and moved me around so I was facing him.
He loosened the belt on my robe and opened it. I was wearing white cotton panties, but that's all. He gave me a once-over.
"You're some woman, Mabel," he said. "We could make each other happy."
He leaned down to kiss my bazooms, then looked up at me. "If I get a place at a motel, will you come visit me?"
I didn't answer, and he bent down to kiss me again. He sure had a wicked tongue.
"Will you?" he repeated.
"All right," I said.
I said it without hardly thinking of what I was saying. I just said,
"All right," like it was something I had thought about for a long time and finally decided to do. But it wasn't like that at all. It was more a spur-of-the-moment thing. I think it was his tongue.
But after he left, I thought about it and I got scared. I mean if Marleen wanted a divorce, maybe she already had a private detective following him. To get evidence, you know. And if I shacked up with him, maybe we'd get caught and I'd be named in court as the Other Woman, and that would just kill me, let alone what it would do to Greg and Chester.
I thought about it all day and ate a whole can of honeyroasted peanuts.
I didn't feel much like cooking that night, so I made a big platter of spaghetti and meatballs, using three frozen packages. And I cut up some iceberg lettuce and doused it with Paul Newman's salad dressing.
He's such a great actor.
After dinner, Chester went outside, to play I guess, and Greg went into his den to work, as usual. I watched a two-hour television travelogue on Tibet. How about those yaks?
Chester came home and went to bed. I cleaned up the kitchen and then went upstairs to take my shower like I do every night.
While I was drying off, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror and wondered if I should have things done. You know, like a tummy tuck, an ass lift, and stuff like that. Also, they can vacuum fat out of your thighs. I saw it on a TV special.
I was doing my nails in the bedroom when Greg came in.
"Did you lock up?" I asked him.
"Doors and windows," he said. "All secure."
We said exactly the same goddamned thing every goddamned night.
What I had done was put on that black see-through lace teddy I had bought from Laura at Hashbeam's Bo-teek. I wasn't going to sleep in it, of course, but I thought it might tickle Greg's fancy, if you know what I mean.
I waited for him to notice, but he didn't even glance at me.
He went into the bedroom for his shower, and when he came out, he was wearing his pajamas. I don't know why but when my husband wears pajama jacket and pants, it looks like a business suit.
I stood up and posed like a model. "How do you like it?" I asked him.
He looked at the lace teddy. "Very nice," he said, and went to the bed to turn down the covers.
"It's supposed to be sexy," I reminded him. , He looked again. "Very attractive," he said, which was an improvement-but not much. He got into bed and pulled the top sheet up to his chin.
I went over and sat on the edge of the bed at his side. "I feel horny,"
I told him. "Please don't tell me you've got a headache."
That made him smile. I turned off the lights, took off my teddy, and slipped into bed next to him, naked as a skinned rabbit. I took his hand and cupped it around one of my lungs.
"Look how big I'm getting," I said.
"I've noticed," he said.
"That's okay with you, isn't it? " I said. "I mean you don't have any objections, do you?"
It was the first I had heard him laugh in a long time. It wasn't much of a laugh, just a little chuckle, but it was something.
"You're very hot," he said in a low voice.
"Hotter than you think," I said. "Do you remember what to do next?"
He laughed again, a little louder this time. "It's like riding a bike," he said. "You never forget how."
"Why don't you take off your suit," I suggested. "And start pedaling."
He got out of bed to do it, stumbling around in the darkness.
Then he got back into bed. Greg is nicely put together.
I ran my hands over his body. "Hey," I said, "what have we here?
Hello, there! Long time no see."
He kissed me a few times. Adequate, but nothing to write home about.
I pulled the sheet off us and kicked it aside. I inched up in bed and moved his head down to my bosom, wanting him to do a Herman.
"Try it," I said. "It's better than spaghetti and meatballs."