One of Us Is Dead(36)

I hadn’t been okay for a while. I just didn’t know it. But I couldn’t deny what was right in front of me anymore. That video was proof, and I was a tiny bit grateful for it. I needed to change. I needed to be better. I couldn’t go on living if I didn’t.





28

Karen


I was running about fifteen minutes late to my spray tan appointment with Jenny, thanks to dealing with YouTube all night. The video had finally been taken down after accumulating over one hundred thousand views. Poor Shannon. I had read the comments, and I knew she did too. Each one was viler than the last. I had decided to get a pedicure after the spray tan, just so I could be there when Shannon arrived. She hadn’t spoken to me since she left last night, but she had said she’d be in today to be there for Jenny and to apologize to her and Keisha for the way she had acted at the book club.

I threw open the recently repaired salon door and walked right past the black curtains because the front area was empty. Keisha was sitting in a pedicure chair with her feet massaging in water, drinking a glass of lemonade, and looking completely lost in thought.

“Hey, sorry I’m late for my appointment with Jenny,” I said, looking around the salon. Jenny was nowhere in sight.

“Actually, Jenny went to the doctor for a follow-up. Are you good with me doing it?” Keisha said, taking her feet out of the water.

“Yeah. How is Jenny?” I tilted my head.

“She’s a bit jumpy and shaken up still, which I’d expect.” Keisha pulled in her lips. “I’m trying to do everything around here to help out as much as possible, but she’s not really accepting much help.” She stood up and dried off with a towel before slipping on a pair of sandals.

“Jenny’s a tough woman. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through. That must have been terrifying.” I fidgeted with my fingernails.

“She’s a little too tough if ya ask me.” Keisha raised an eyebrow. “She’s shut the whole thing out and refuses to talk about it.” Keisha rubbed her forehead. I could tell she was worried sick about Jenny. We all were.

“Well, people respond to things differently. I’m sure she’ll be all right,” I said with a nod.

“I hope so. Speaking of how people respond to things. How’s Shannon after the . . . video?” Keisha’s eyes went a little wide. She wiped down the pedicure chair.

“She’s upset. She was with me when you sent it. She had come over to apologize.”

“That was painful to watch.” Keisha cringed.

I nodded. “It was. It’s taken down now.”

“Who do you think uploaded it?”

“Shannon is convinced it was Bryce. He was at both events, and he threatened her at dinner,” I explained.

“These people, I swear.” Keisha shook her head in disgust, then glanced at me. “No offense. You’re nothing like the others here—and I mean that as a compliment.”

“Thank you.” I smiled. “But Shannon will be in later this afternoon. She wants to apologize to you and Jenny for what happened at the book club.”

Keisha beckoned me with her hand, and we walked to the spray tan room in back.

“That’s nice of her. Not necessary, but nice.”

“Despite how horrible that video was, it seems to have pulled her back to reality. I think she’s finally seeing things clearly now and realizing her marriage is truly over.”

Keisha nodded and then closed the door behind her and began to ready the spray tanning machine.

While she prepared, I found myself watching her, captivated by her beautiful profile, wishing that she might look back at me once more. Then Keisha said something entirely unexpected. “Why do you spend so much time with these women, Karen? Don’t be fooled, I see what goes on around here and I can tell that you’re different from the others. You see past all their bullshit and pointless rivalries.” She almost spat the words, such was her vehemence.

Initially stunned, it took me a moment to gather my thoughts enough to respond. “The truth is, I’ve begun to question my place in the world more and more these days. It’s not just Buckhead, or my friendships. It goes deeper than that. I find myself questioning everything, even my marriage . . . I just wish I didn’t feel quite such a stranger to myself.”

Keisha glanced at the ground, hesitant to say more, before returning my gaze.

“I know what it’s like to question your identity, Karen. I know what it’s like to not feel seen for who you really are. But I want you to know that in my eyes, you’re amazing.” And then she smiled this warm, open smile that made me realize that Keisha meant every word.

After an awkward pause, I began to remove my clothing for the spray tan. Keisha turned toward me, and rather than start, she hesitated, holding the nozzle by her side, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. I should have felt uncomfortable, but I wasn’t. I knew that Keisha wasn’t judging me; her eyes were filled with a frank curiosity . . .and something else. Could it be longing? I felt my heart rate rise.

My eyes met Keisha’s. Her full lips fell slightly apart, moisture forming between them. And I could say the same for mine. I hadn’t had that feeling in a very long time—if ever. Just then, I realized what was wrong with my marriage. It wasn’t my hormones. It wasn’t the stress of raising a child. It wasn’t my husband. There wasn’t anything actually wrong with me.