Chapter 27

October 3, 2011

The first day of Debbie’s ‘six-month leave,’ she sat in her kitchen wondering what to do with her day. Jeff had gone to the office to work on his column, and their cleaning service was already at work in the living room. Debbie felt lost without her job. She missed her little students. She missed the other teachers. Despite the changes in their friendship, she missed Catherine more than she had imagined she would. Debbie had nobody to talk to and felt lonely. She flipped through the newspaper, reading another piece about the murders, this time not written by Jeff.

Debbie looked out through the kitchen window onto the street below, staring at some of the people walking through Washington Square, wondering what their lives were like and where they were all going. She wanted to cry, but was practicing keeping her emotions more under control. She loved Jeff and wanted him to be proud of her. She hadn’t cried once since he had admonished her for it after their last visit with his mother.

Later that day, she would meet with Genevieve to begin her ‘training.’ Debbie thought about what to wear. She had lost a few pounds but right now she did not care at all about her weight. She felt angry about her job and wished she could find a way to get back at Jeff, and her mother-in-law, for forcing her into this situation. She opened the refrigerator looking for something to soothe herself. Nothing there, she thought. Just fruit, vegetables, chicken, beef, a quart of milk, some eggs, and a loaf of high-fiber, low-fat bread. The freezer, on the other hand, supplied just what was needed. A large tub of ice cream, a rich chocolate, filled with marshmallows, chocolate chips, and nuts - Rocky Road ice cream. How perfect, she thought. It was a flavor created during the Great Depression, according to the story, in order to cheer people up. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, and ate right from the tub until she was almost in a trance. An ice-cream sugar-high trance that only ended when she felt the need to visit the one room in the apartment that was hers alone. It was her secret room, the place Jeff had assigned her to keep all the stuff she had accumulated over the years. It was now the only place she could engage in her worst habit, hoarding things she didn’t really need - things that had no purpose at all in her life.

Debbie had done a remarkable job, she thought, of changing from her former self to her present self. A small part of her almost relished the idea of her mother-in-law’s proposal of training Debbie in the art of being a true society woman.

Debbie walked past the two Spanish-speaking women who were busy cleaning, vacuuming under the sofa, dusting - all the activities Debbie had always hated. In the past, she would not have felt superior to them. Now she did, and this bothered her a little, but not enough to change it. Gingerly, she took a key from her underwear drawer and unlocked her “special room,” as she called it, just to revisit her former self.

The room was filled with boxes that had been moved from her old apartment. She wasn’t even sure what was in most of them. She intended to clean out the room but hadn’t begun yet. The one large table in the room was covered with books, odds and ends, a couple of old lamps, and old clothes she knew she would never wear again. And to her amazement, there was a huge spider web in a corner of the room, extending from the ceiling to one of the boxes on the floor. Debbie was afraid of spiders. She screamed and left quickly, shutting the door and locking it. The sound of the vacuum cleaner had drowned out her scream, and the two women had not heard her.

Debbie thought she would have to clean it out by herself, rather than letting the cleaning women see the state of the room, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. Just seeing all her “stuff” for a few moments made her feel better, more centered. It was where she had packed up and left the old Debbie, whom she often missed. The old Debbie wasn’t sophisticated or sexy, but had a personality that she understood.

She went into the bedroom to decide what to wear for her meeting with Genevieve. She decided on a peach colored suit with a white blouse - all very conservative, and she knew her mother-in-law would approve.

Debbie took a taxi to the Main Line, not flinching at the cost, as the old Debbie would have done, and giving a generous tip to the driver, as the old Debbie would not have done. Genevieve was ready when she arrived, giving her air kisses and telling her she looked lovely. “Thank you, Mrs. Sadlers,” Debbie said. There was little hope that she would ever be invited to address her in a less formal way.

“Several of my friends are coming here today,” Genevieve said, “and your job will be to persuade them that you come from a very prestigious family. We shall go over the details in the next hour.”

She handed Debbie four sheets of paper, with bullet points outlining her entire life - life according to Genevieve. “We’ll go over the details, and we will do some role-playing,” Genevieve said. “By the end of the hour, you must have me convinced.”

“Kind of like being in the witness protection program,” Debbie said. Genevieve did not appreciate her sense of humor. “No need to be smug, dear,” she said. In Debbie’s fake identity, she had grown up in a wealthy Connecticut community. Her father was a prestigious heart surgeon with a major hospital and her mother was a socialite who had stayed at home to raise Debbie and a younger sister who now lives in Switzerland. Debbie was an English literature major who graduated from Yale, summa cum laude. She had met Jeff through mutual friends.

When Debbie read her new identity, she was shocked. It certainly confirmed what she had heard from Jeff - that his mother had once wanted to be a writer. Her ‘Fantasy Debbie’ might have done well as a character in a novel. It went on to describe wealthy grandparents and a summer home on Cape Cod, frequent trips to Europe, and an African safari that Genevieve expected her to describe in detail. “I can’t do this, not in an hour,” Debbie said.

“You will do it, and I don’t expect you to let me down,” Genevieve said sternly.

“Well I’m guessing your friends might wonder why they have only just met me,” Debbie said. “I suppose they will think I’ve survived the probationary period!” she added.

“There’s really no need to continue your hostility,” Genevieve said. “I don’t entertain very often - they need not have met you before now. This little project is certainly to your advantage if you can do well enough.”

They played roles, and Debbie did quite well at remembering all the details. Finally, the doorbell rang and Genevieve’s friends began arriving, four of them who were all, in Debbie’s opinion, as snooty and bitchy as Genevieve Sadlers.

Genevieve was gracious to her friends, and introduced her daughter-in-law proudly. “I’ve never seen Jefferson so happy,” she said. “Don’t blush, dear,” she said in Debbie’s direction, “but Debbie is the daughter I’ve always wanted. And her family is superb.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t introduced us to your lovely daughter-in-law until now,” one of Genevieve’s friends said. “Where have you been hiding her?” Debbie chuckled to herself. She had seen it coming. She could tell she had impressed them.

Genevieve was ready with a reply. “Debbie has finally had the good sense to resign from her job. Now we can have the pleasure of her company during daytime hours. I thought this was the perfect opportunity for you to get to know her.”

Debbie was convinced that she had stepped into a bad amateur play. She couldn’t wait for it to end. At one point, after tea and cake, she excused herself, went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She took a deep breath, powdered her nose, replenished her lipstick, and went back to her seat. One of the women chose that moment to ask her about her honeymoon in Mexico. Debbie wanted to say, “Well, it was two years ago, you know,” but she just played along. It was the one trip she didn’t have to make up, and she spoke at length about the scenery, their suite in the hotel overlooking the beach, the sightseeing trips they took, the famous ruins they had visited, and their flights in both directions. She hoped nobody would ask her anything else. But one of the women mentioned the orchestra murders. “I see that Jeff has been writing a lot about them,” she added. “How awful that must be for him, for both of you.”

“Yes, it has been dreadful. Jefferson has been following them closely,” his mother chimed in. “I’ve asked him to resign, but you know Jefferson. He’s so devoted to his work. Thank goodness he will never have to depend on that salary.”

“Genevieve, many people would be thrilled to have his position,” one of her friends said. “You ought not to belittle his work.” Debbie was quietly gloating, and happy to see that the comment had annoyed Genevieve.

The two-hour visit was far too long, and Debbie was relieved when they all left.

“You did surprisingly well, dear,” Genevieve said to Debbie. “I was very pleased with you.” It was the first time Genevieve had been nice to her, and she knew her friends must have said something complimentary to Genevieve about her daughter-in-law.

“I shall see you soon, then,” Genevieve said, ushering Debbie to the door and discarding her with another pair of air kisses. “Goodbye, dear. Please tell Jefferson I will speak with him tomorrow.”

Debbie did not know how she would get home, and Genevieve seemed not to care. There were no taxis near her mansion, and Debbie walked a couple of blocks until she came to City Line, where she caught a bus that she knew would take her downtown. She was drained from the afternoon and could not wait to get home. She arrived home about the same time as she would have come home from teaching, but it felt like she had been gone two days. She stripped out of her suit, dumped it on the bed, and put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then began to think about what to cook for dinner. Beef stew, she thought, pulling the ingredients out of the fridge and placing them haphazardly on the kitchen counter.

Half an hour later, Jeff came home, looking distracted. “What’s wrong?” Debbie asked.

“Nothing. I’m stuck on my story. I need to go back after dinner and do some more interviews. I may be late.”

He did not remember to ask Debbie how her day went. He didn’t ask her, as he usually did, how she was feeling. He didn’t kiss her, as he usually did. He was somewhere else. Debbie knew that working on a big story was distracting. She continued preparing dinner, while Jeff sat in front of his computer, paying little attention to her. When dinner was ready, Debbie went over to Jeff, who was still staring at the computer screen. She draped herself over his shoulders, from behind, and kissed his cheek. He barely noticed. “Dinner is ready, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll be there in a minute,” Jeff replied.

He was silent during dinner. Debbie could see that he was deep in thought and she didn’t interrupt him. He ate without saying a word, got up from the table, and as he opened the door, he shouted, “Don’t wait up. It could be another long night.”

It was only 7 p.m. and Debbie was bored and restless. Her whole day had been difficult. She thought that Jeff would help to cheer her up, and would stay home for the evening. They might go to the movies or just stay home and make love. No matter what was going on, she had always been able to count on their sex life. Apparently not this evening. What was going through Jeff’s mind? Why was he so restless? Debbie wondered.

Debbie had no intention of staying home and sulking. She put the dishes in the dishwasher, stuck the leftovers in the fridge, quickly changed into a skirt and sweater, and grabbed her purse. She didn’t know where she would go, but anywhere was better than sitting at home. She walked for a few blocks downtown, then without planning it, stepped into a cab and gave Catherine’s address on Spruce Street, close to 12th. She had no idea if Catherine would be home and asked the driver to wait a couple of minutes after paying him. When Debbie reached the front door of the building, she saw that Catherine was just opening the door.

“Debbie! What are you doing here? Five minutes earlier and you would have missed me.”

“Speaking of missing you...” Debbie said. “It’s been the longest day in creation.” She waved the taxi driver away, and gave Catherine a big hug. They walked up to Catherine’s apartment on the second floor. Debbie settled herself on the sofa and Catherine poured two glasses of red wine. Slowly, cautiously, Debbie began pouring out what was going on. The money, the problems with her mother-in-law, and why she had been forced to quit her job (or ‘take a leave of absence,’ as she put it).

“Oh my God,” Catherine exclaimed. “You poor thing. I had no idea you were going through such a difficult time.” At the moment, she was far less jealous of Debbie than she had been for the past few months. She thought Jeff’s treatment of Debbie sounded creepy.

“But surely you must like having access to all that money,” Catherine said.

“It’s okay, but no matter how hard I try, it’s not really me. It’s somebody else who looks like me. And I miss my old place, surrounded by my stuff.”

“Do you want to leave him?” Catherine asked.

“No, of course not. I love Jeff. I’m just not happy. I’m stuck someplace inside, and I don’t know where I am, who I am. I don’t recognize myself any more. It’s not really Jeff’s fault, though. It’s his mother. I hate her, and she hates me.”

“Too bad the orchestra murderer couldn’t have bumped her off,” Catherine said.

“Catherine! I’m surprised you could say such a thing. Although....” They both laughed. Debbie hadn’t thought of it, but just the idea made her feel a lot better.

“Let’s go out,” Catherine said. “And do crazy stuff like we used to do.”

“Where do you want to go?” Debbie vaguely remembered their fun times.

“Irish Pub,” Catherine said. “Can you still remember your accents?” They would feign different foreign accents each time they went out - Russian, French, British. And they did them well. A drink or two helped, and they always ended the evening collapsed in giggles. Debbie had not laughed that way since meeting Jeff.

“Well, all right, but I can’t go home smelling like a brewery,” Debbie said.

“Haven’t you heard of a shower?”

“That will only work if I’m home before Jeff,” Debbie said. She made the decision to call him and assess his progress. Jeff was at his desk, having a hard time with his story. He was at least four hours away from finishing. She told him she was visiting Catherine and would be home by 11. “Have a nice time, and don’t wait up, sweetheart,” he said, reassuring her it would be a long evening for him.

Five minutes later, they were tucked in a booth at Catherine’s favorite pub. Debbie watched in awe as Catherine used her best fake British accent and flirted shamelessly with one of two good-looking young men in the booth opposite. They invited Catherine and Debbie to join them, and when Debbie tried to refuse, Catherine dragged her along. What about Catherine’s boyfriend? Debbie thought. Catherine had no morals, Debbie concluded, promising herself she would never follow her best friend’s lead down that slippery slope.

Both concocted a story about being roommates from the UK and visiting the US for a few days. It wasn’t long before Catherine was snuggling with the man she had selected from the pair. The other one put his arm around Debbie, and said nothing when he saw her wedding ring. Debbie tried to pull away but did not resist for long. Catherine was already kissing Don, and his hands were all over her. Debbie was thankful that her guy seemed more shy, and tried to converse rather than seduce. It felt like 15 minutes to her, although in reality more than an hour had passed. Catherine was still as selfish as ever. Debbie needed her this evening. She needed to talk. Catherine told Debbie she would phone her the next day, and she got up from the booth and left, arm in arm, with her new discovery. Debbie didn’t know where they were going, but guessed back to his place.

Now, to her disgust, she was left sitting in the booth with Simon. He seemed nice, and sensitive enough to notice that she was upset. “Abandoned by your friend, huh,” he said. He leaned in close and whispered, “We could do the same, sweetheart. I see your ring, but it doesn’t matter to me,” he said, holding her hand.

“We’re not really from England,” Debbie said, getting rid of her accent.

“I’m not an idiot,” Simon whispered, his lips pressed against her ear, making her tingle. “I knew right away you were a couple of girls out for a good time.” She was on the inside seat in the booth and the pub was fairly dark, with candles on the tables. “You’re a very sexy girl, you know,” he said. “I could really go for you.” He kissed her on the lips, and she leaned in rather than moving away. She was thrilled that a stranger had called her sexy. She felt more than a spark of attraction for him. They continued to kiss for a few moments, more passionately, Debbie savoring the revenge for her rotten day. His hand was on her thigh, and he was slowly moving it up between her thighs until she felt herself becoming very excited. His fingers were inside her panties, and then slipped inside her. A shudder ran through her entire body and she tried to control the involuntary moan that she let out as she came. She had never done anything so daring, and hoped nobody was near enough to hear. Simon took her hand and placed it inside his pants, and pulled his jacket over his lap. Debbie felt hot and her heart was beating very hard.

She could see over Simon’s shoulder that a waitress was about to stop at their booth but walked past when she saw their tight embrace. Debbie didn’t think she could see the rest of what was going on, but didn’t care as much as she thought she would.

She used her hands with all the skill she had developed through Jeff’s daily guidance, using both hands and massaging him until he came. Simon stroked her hair gently, whispering, “You are amazing, incredible.” Finally, their breathing returned to normal, and they sat side by side, very close to each other. Simon kissed her. “I want to see you again,” he said.

He pulled a card from his pocket and tucked it into her bra. “Please, call me.”

Debbie knew it was impossible, and was feeling a combination of great shame and tremendous excitement. “I don’t think I can,” she said. “I’m happily married. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Happily married, babe? I doubt that! Anyway, you have my number, and I won’t ask for yours. Think about it. I know you will call me.”

He got out of the booth so that Debbie could leave. Before he stepped out of the way, he put his hand gently on her breast, where he had placed his card, and kissed her once more. “Think of that as a preview of things to come,” he said.

Debbie was gasping for air when she left, and she walked up Locust Street to Broad before finding a taxi. It was 11 p.m. and she wanted to be at home. She opened the door quickly, relieved to see that Jeff was still out. She put Simon’s card in a small zippered pocket of her purse, tore off all her clothes, stuffing them into the bottom of the full laundry basket, and jumped into the shower, attempting to wash off her evening. Did this make her unfaithful to Jeff? Of course not, she told herself, since she hadn’t had intercourse with Simon, but she kept coming back to the moment when Simon’s hand moved up her leg. Why didn’t she stop him then and go home then? She didn’t have an answer. Part of her felt better for having done it. The more she thought about it, the more that feeling outweighed her guilt. She wondered if that moment would haunt her the next time she made love to Jeff, or if her little secret would add an extra touch of excitement. She settled on feeling proud that a stranger had found her sexy. She was sure this wouldn’t have happened a couple of years earlier. She put on one of her sexy silk nightgowns, thinking it would please Jeff when he came home. She hoped that he would be feeling better and would gently wake her and make love to her. Her secret made her feel powerful. She was no longer angry with Jeff for his behavior at dinner. She couldn’t decide whether or not to tell Catherine about her adventure. For the moment, she savored the sweetness of it, and fell asleep thinking of Simon’s last kiss, his words echoing in her ears, “You are amazing, incredible.” She was happy.

Jeff came home at 3 a.m., again, and tried to get into bed without waking Debbie. When she awoke, she still felt high from her experience at the Irish Pub. “Hello, my love,” she said. “I missed you. How are you feeling?”

“All right,” Jeff said. “I finished my story. I need to go to sleep now.”

Debbie knew that his state of mind had not improved. She reached over and tried to kiss him, but he had already turned his back and brushed her aside. She had made a big decision about his mother. She would not complain about her any more, but would take matters into her own hands.

“Don’t you want to hear about my day? I had a great time with your mother,” she lied. “She was very nice to me, and said sweet things about me to her friends. I’m going back in the morning. This is not as bad as I had assumed. I didn’t give her the credit she deserves.”

“Good,” Jeff said, clarifying in Debbie’s mind that his day was finished, and he was not about to share whatever was causing his problems.

The next day, she thought, would be the beginning of a new era.