She quickly set the picture down and felt a stab of sadness. A family once so full of love and togetherness was no more. She could still recall how hurt and angry she had been when she’d caught Sam cheating on her, and how old and obsolete she’d suddenly felt when she saw Shelley Hatcher for the first time that awful night. Ann no longer felt wanted; her husband no longer found her desirable. That’s what had gone through her mind. Sam had risked everything just to sleep with a younger, more attractive woman, and she knew that she could never make love to him again knowing that.
Ann had filed for divorce the following day.
Word spread quickly about the incident and the public humiliation had been unbearable. Once it got out that Ann wanted a divorce, it seemed as though everyone in town started looking at her differently-as if she was the wrongdoer, not Sam. Everyone except Marsha, that is. Marsha liked Sam as much as the rest of the town did, but Marsha also knew how proud her friend was and how much it had hurt her to see her husband with another woman. Marsha encouraged her to go through with the divorce and supported her all the way to the end.
Amy, on the other hand, had mixed feelings at the time. She knew that what her father had done was wrong but at the same time didn’t want to see her parents split up. It had been especially hard for her the day that Sam had packed his bags and moved in with Roger. Their house had suddenly become a broken home.
Ann had to admit that she’d actually felt sorry for Sam by the time the divorce had been finalized. He was really hurt and it showed, yet he had still managed to be a gentleman throughout the whole thing. He’d tried his hardest to make it as painless as he could, just for Amy’s sake. When the papers were being signed, Ann had almost gotten cold feet and backed out at the last second. But she hadn’t.
Once it was all over, Ann knew that she had to get out of Smithtown. She had suddenly felt like she was living in a fish bowl and that everyone hated her for what she’d done. She wanted to leave town as soon as possible, to get away from the narrow minds and to get on with her life. To start anew with a clean slate. Columbus seemed to be the most obvious destination. It wasn’t far away, but far enough…
Ann heard Amy coming up the stairs and attempted to compose herself. Moments later she went across the hall to her daughter’s bedroom. Amy was rifling through her drawers when Ann entered.
“Do you know where my navy blue sweater is, Mom?” she asked.
“I think it’s hanging in your closet, honey,” Ann replied. “It’s a wonder you can find anything in this room!” she added, staring aghast at the piles of clothes thrown all over the floor and on the bed.
Amy ignored her comment and went over to the closet.
“What movie are you going to see?” Ann asked curiously.
“Not sure yet. Probably the new Christian Slater one. I can’t remember the name of it.”
“Isn’t that rated R?” Ann asked. She knew that it was. She’d seen a preview for it on television the other day.
Amy found the sweater and glanced over at her mother, a smirk on her face. “Yeah, but we’ll get in.”
Ann wanted to protest but didn’t. She stood and watched Amy as she flung the sweater on the bed and took off her robe; in awe of how quickly her little daughter was growing up. The freckles on her fair skin were barely noticeable now. The baby fat was gone and her breasts were nearly as large and full as her own. Amy’s proportions had become more defined as well. Longish legs, tiny waist, slender hips. And the cherubic face had suddenly taken on a young woman’s countenance-high cheekbones, full lips, aquiline nose and haunting green eyes, all framed by a thick, luxurious mane of auburn hair.
Amy sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans that fit so tight they looked as though they were painted on. She stood up again, put on a cream-colored knit blouse then the sweater.
“Have you met any interesting boys at school yet?” Ann asked as Amy slipped into a pair of loafers.
“A few,” she mumbled, feigning disinterest.
“Don’t you have a school dance coming up soon?”
“Homecoming.”
“Are you going?” Ann inquired.
“Don’t know, yet. Doubt it, though,” she replied.
“How come?”
“No one goes to school dances at Woodcrest, I’ve heard. Just nerds and cheerleaders.”
“That’s odd,” Ann said. “Everyone went to school dances when I was your age. In fact, the ‘nerds’ were usually the ones who didn’t go,” she added.
Amy stepped over to the vanity and started putting on her makeup. “That was eons ago, Mom.”
“Thanks a lot!”
“Just kidding!” Amy chided. “Anyway, this isn’t Smithtown. Kids are a lot cooler up here.”
Ann wondered what constituted coolness… drugs and sex? She shuddered at the thought. “So what do you think of the high school now that you’ve had a chance to settle in?”
Amy carefully applied her eyeliner. “It’s awfully big, that’s for sure. I think I’ll like it better when I’m no longer a freshman.” She spoke the last word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Ann asked, “Are the upper classmates giving you a hard time?”
“Some of them. There’s a lot of snobs at Woodcrest, I’ve noticed.”
“There are snobs everywhere, honey,” Ann declared.
Amy reached for the blow dryer and said, “Maybe. But there are a lot of rich snobs at Woodcrest. There’s a difference, you know.”
With that, Amy switched on the hair dryer and Ann realized that their little chat was over. She returned to her own bedroom, slipped out of the uncomfortable black dress she was wearing, put on her robe and slipped into her house slippers before going downstairs to the bathroom. Ann turned on the water for her bath and was sampling the temperature when she heard a horn honking out front. She ran out to the living room window and parted the curtains to find Amanda’s mother’s car pulled up in the driveway. After making a gesture with her hand, Ann ran upstairs to alert Amy that her friend had arrived.
“Shit!” Amy hissed as she turned off the hairdryer. “She’s early!”
Ann ignored the profanity-she’d almost gotten used to it by now. “Do you want me to ask them to come inside to wait until you’re ready?”
“No, I’m as ready as I’m going to be. I hate my fucking hair!”
Ann cringed at the sound of the “f” word coming from her daughter’s lips. This time she wasn’t going to excuse it. “You’d better start watching your mouth, young lady! Do you realize how vulgar that sounds?”
Amy glared at Ann defiantly. “Come on, Mother! You say it all the time!”
“That doesn’t give you the right to, though. Not in my house!”
Amy held her mother’s stare and spurted, “Oh, Mom-get a life!” She stormed out of the room.
Ann wanted to chase after her and give her a good piece of her mind but stopped herself. She knew they’d only get in a fight, and Ann wasn’t in the mood for it. When she heard the front door creak open, she hurried down the stairs just as Amy was halfway out the door.
“Come home right after the movie, Amy!” she yelled after her.
The door slammed shut.
Sometimes, I’d like to crown that little brat, Ann thought. With a long sigh, she went back to the bathroom and closed the door.
After her bath, Ann threw on an old faded Ohio State sweatshirt and a pair of sweat pants before retreating to the family room. After turning on the television, she went over to the bar and took out an opened bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. After pouring herself a glass, she plopped down on the sofa.