The Wives(32)
We find a little table in the corner and begin the task of unwrapping ourselves from scarves and jackets. I try not to look at her because I don’t know why I’m doing this, except there is something sad in her eyes, something that matches how I feel. I tell myself that if she brings up our lack of children I’m going to leave. I order shots to start. We need something to cut the edge, and fast.
“What do you normally drink?”
I expect her to say rosé or champagne, but she says, “Whiskey,” matter-of-factly and then downs her shot like she’s at a college frat party. Nice.
We order fries, and by the time our food arrives, we’ve had three shots each and are sufficiently sloshed. Lauren can’t figure out how to work the lid on the ketchup and, in a fit of giggles, drops the bottle on the floor. She retrieves it and wedges the lid open with her teeth.
“And you thought I was uptight,” she says, eyeing me over the bottle.
“You’re drunk,” I tell her, dipping a fry into the ketchup and folding it into my mouth. “Your picture-perfect life doesn’t allow you to be anything but uptight.”
Lo snorts. “So perfect.” She closes her eyes, an exaggerated expression on her face. “It’s not what you think.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. I know she’s had more than her fair share to drink, but I don’t stop her when she begins to talk. If she’s going to regret telling me things, she can do it tomorrow when I’m not around.
“Do you really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” I say. She toys with her napkin, ripping it in half, then balling it up in her fist. When she’s destroyed it, she drops the wadded-up paper in her water glass. I watch it float before lifting my eyes to her face.
“He cheats on me,” she says. “All the time. The trips we go on are always after I’ve caught him. To buy me back, I suppose.”
I don’t know what to say, so I stare at her dumbly until she speaks again.
“It’s all a farce. I’m a farce. I thought if we had a baby, things would get better, he’d be more hesitant to break up our family, but then it was hard to get pregnant and even harder to keep a baby in my body. Now I can’t have children at all and this is just my reality.”
I reach across the fries and empty shot glasses and touch her hand—lightly at first, and then I hold it. “I’m sorry,” I say, though the words sound shallow and uncomforting even to my own ears. “Have you thought about leaving him?”
She shakes her head. Her nose is throbbing red, and I see that she’s started to cry. “No, I can’t. I love him.”
That makes me pull my hand back and stare at the plate of half-eaten fries. I’m all too familiar with that feeling, aren’t I? Not knowing if I should leave, trying to make things better—never quite being able to. I’m drunk and inspired by Lauren’s honesty, so I say, “My husband has two other wives.” And then feel the heat rise to my face. She’s the first person I’ve told, and she’s someone I’ve always claimed to hate. It’s funny how things work.
Lauren laughs, thinking I’m kidding, but the serious expression on my face causes her mouth to drop open. Her own hurt forgotten in the wake of my shocking news, she stumbles over her words. “You’re joking. Oh my God, you’re not joking...”
I feel part relief and part fear. I know I shouldn’t have told her, that it was dangerous both to Seth and the other women, but alcohol and sadness have loosened my tongue, and, well, it’s too late to take it back now.
“I’m a polygamist,” I say, just to clarify. “Though I’ve never met either of them, they don’t even live near here.”
“Let me get this straight,” Lauren breathes. “You knowingly let your husband cheat on you...with two other wives?”
I nod. She bursts into laughter. At first, I’m upset. This wasn’t really something to laugh about, but then, as if through a haze, I see what she sees and I can’t help but start laughing, too.
“What a fucked-up pair we are.” And with that she stands to go to the bar to get more drinks. We really don’t need to drink anymore, but also we do. When she carries them back to our table I smile wanly at her. Lauren looks at me over the rim of her water glass—the paper removed—with a smile equally as weak.
“What a mess we’ve made of our lives, eh? Well, what’s he like—your Seth? Is he worth it?”
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly. “I used to think so, otherwise I wouldn’t have married him. But lately, I’ve been feeling different. I’ve even gone as far as finding them online just so I can spy.”
Her eyes grow big, two saucers of vulnerability. “It’s like a movie,” she says. “In fact, if I were sober I don’t think I’d believe you about any of this.”
“Are you going to leave John?” I ask her.
“Are you going to leave Seth?” she shoots back.
“I really just want those other women to go away.”
“Here, here,” she says, lifting her glass in a toast. But she doesn’t look convinced; she looks concerned.
We part ways right where we met, only now it’s too dark to see the blue tree trunks. She gives me a brief but meaningful hug, after promising to never tell my secret, and I say I’ll do the same. It feels good to have someone know, even someone I’ve always disliked. That’s what I keep thinking on my walk back to the condo. Like someone has taken some of the burden off my shoulders and I can move around a little easier. I wonder if she feels the same. If we can somehow help each other.