Chapter 26 - Just Smile

Jennifer woke to Luke Perry staring at her.

For several seconds she had no idea where she was.

Then she saw the pink walls.

The floral comforter.

Jason Priestley.

Leonardo DiCaprio.

Right.

Kathy’s house.

Michelle’s old bedroom.

Temporary exile.

Jennifer closed her eyes again.

Maybe if she stayed perfectly still, Saturday would forget she existed.

A knock sounded against the bedroom door.

“Rise and shine.”

Jennifer groaned.

“No.”

Kathy opened the door anyway.

She was already dressed.

Hair done.

Makeup on.

Far too cheerful for nine o’clock in the morning.

Jennifer pulled the comforter over her head.

“I’m not accepting visitors.”

“You live in my house.”

“I’m still not accepting them.”

Kathy walked across the room and pulled the curtains open.

Sunlight flooded everything.

Jennifer hissed dramatically.

Kathy ignored her.

“We’re leaving in an hour.”

Jennifer lowered the blanket.

“We are?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I need Christmas decorations.”

Jennifer stared.

“You already have Christmas decorations.”

“I need more.”

“You have an entire attic full.”

“I need different ones.”

Jennifer rolled onto her back.

“I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want anyone to see me.”

Kathy sat on the edge of the bed.

Her expression softened.

“You can’t stay in this room forever.”

“I’ve been here one night.”

“And you’ve already had enough time to memorize the posters.”

Jennifer glanced at Luke Perry.

“That happened quickly.”

Kathy smiled.

“Get dressed.”

Jennifer sighed.

“Fine.”

She pushed herself upright.

“I’ll wear jeans.”

“No.”

Jennifer looked at her.

“No?”

Kathy stood and walked toward the closet.

“You’re wearing something cute.”

“I am emotionally devastated.”

“You can be emotionally devastated in a cute outfit.”

Kathy opened the closet as if she owned that too.

Which technically she did.

Jennifer climbed out of bed.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

Kathy looked through the hanging clothes.

“A sweater.”

“A skirt.”

“And boots.”

Jennifer folded her arms.

“You’ve been planning this.”

“Since breakfast.”

“You’ve only been awake for an hour.”

“I work quickly.”

Kathy pulled out a white cashmere twin set.

Then a red plaid skirt.

The knee-high leather boots Jennifer had packed at the last second.

Then looked through her drawers until she found her hosiery and pulled out a pair of black opaque tights.

She held everything up.

Jennifer stared.

“That seems like a lot for buying garland.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the stores will be crowded.”

“That makes me want to wear a disguise.”

Kathy raised an eyebrow.

Jennifer immediately regretted the sentence.

Kathy smiled.

“You already are.”

Jennifer threw a pillow at her.

Kathy caught it.

“Forty-five minutes.”

Then she walked out.

Jennifer came downstairs forty-seven minutes later.

The white cashmere hugged her softly without feeling tight.

The red plaid skirt fell just above her knees, while the opaque tights and knee-high boots made the entire outfit feel much more polished—and much more noticeable—than anything she would have chosen for buying garland.

She had kept her makeup light.

Soft foundation.

Mascara.

Neutral lipstick.

Her blonde hair fell loosely around her shoulders.

Kathy looked up from the kitchen table.

Then smiled.

“There she is.”

Jennifer reached for her coat.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Make it a thing.”

“I didn’t.”

“You used a voice.”

“I used my normal voice.”

“You absolutely did not.”

Kathy picked up her purse.

“You look lovely.”

Jennifer hesitated.

Then quietly said:

“Thank you.”

The home improvement center was packed.

Families buying Christmas trees.

Couples arguing over lights.

Children running through the seasonal aisle holding plastic candy canes like swords.

Jennifer stayed close to Kathy.

Too close.

Kathy eventually stopped beside a display of artificial wreaths.

“You’re hovering.”

“I am not.”

“You’re practically in my handbag.”

Jennifer stepped away.

“I keep thinking someone is going to recognize me.”

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Kathy selected a wreath.

Jennifer looked at the price tag.

“You have six wreaths.”

“Those are fall wreaths.”

“You also have Christmas wreaths.”

“They’re tired.”

“They’re plastic.”

“Exactly.”

Kathy placed the wreath in the cart.

Jennifer looked around.

Nobody was staring.

Nobody was whispering.

Nobody seemed to care.

A woman passed them and smiled.

Jennifer automatically smiled back.

Nothing happened.

The woman continued walking.

Jennifer released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Kathy noticed.

She said nothing.

Twenty minutes later the cart was filled with garland, ribbon, ornaments, lights, and a wooden reindeer Jennifer was almost certain Kathy did not need.

They stopped in front of a shelf stacked with large storage bins.

Kathy pointed to the top shelf.

“I want those.”

Jennifer looked up.

“Of course you do.”

“They’re the right size.”

“They’re twelve feet in the air.”

“We’ll ask someone.”

Jennifer looked around for an employee.

A young man in an orange apron was helping another customer.

Two aisles over, another employee was loading lumber onto a cart.

Kathy nudged Jennifer.

“Go ask him.”

Jennifer looked at her.

“Why me?”

“Because he’ll help you.”

“He works here. He’ll help either one of us.”

“Maybe.”

Kathy smiled.

“But he’ll enjoy helping you.”

Jennifer’s face warmed.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“You know exactly what.”

“I told you to ask for help.”

“You told me to make him enjoy it.”

Kathy leaned closer.

“Just smile and look helpless.”

Jennifer stared at her.

“That may be the most offensive thing you’ve ever said.”

“I’ve said much worse.”

“I’m not pretending I can’t reach a plastic bin.”

“You can’t reach it.”

“That isn’t the point.”

Kathy gestured toward the employee.

“Go.”

Jennifer didn’t move.

Kathy waited.

Jennifer sighed.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jennifer walked down the aisle.

The employee looked up as she approached.

He appeared to be in his late twenties.

Tall.

Broad shoulders.

Friendly face.

Jennifer suddenly became very aware of the skirt.

And the boots.

And Kathy watching from behind the cart.

“Excuse me?”

The employee smiled.

“Sure. What can I help you with?”

Jennifer pointed toward the bins.

“We need two of those from the top shelf.”

“No problem.”

He followed her back.

Kathy smiled sweetly.

“These are the ones.”

The employee pulled over a ladder.

Jennifer stepped aside.

“Thank you.”

He looked down at her.

“Of course.”

Kathy made a tiny motion with her hand.

Smile.

Jennifer glared at her.

Then looked back up at the employee and smiled.

He smiled wider.

“These are pretty heavy. I can load them on your cart too.”

“That would be great,” Jennifer said.

Kathy practically glowed.

The employee carried both bins to the cart.

Then rearranged the garland so they would fit.

“There you go.”

Jennifer smiled again.

“Thank you so much.”

“Anytime.”

He walked away.

Kathy waited until he was out of earshot.

“Well?”

Jennifer pushed the cart.

“Well what?”

“That was easy.”

“He was doing his job.”

“He rearranged the entire cart.”

“He was being helpful.”

Jennifer laughed.

A real laugh.

Kathy looked over.

“There she is.”

Jennifer smiled.

“Don’t get used to it.”

Kathy grinned.

“Too late.”

It happened again in the lighting aisle.

Kathy found a display model she wanted but couldn’t locate the box.

This time the employee was older.

Maybe forty-five.

He not only found the lights but carried them to the cart and explained three different settings Jennifer had not asked about.

Kathy smiled throughout the entire demonstration.

Jennifer tried not to make eye contact with her.

When the man finally left, Kathy whispered:

“You didn’t even have to look helpless that time.”

Jennifer turned toward her.

“I asked where the box was.”

“You tilted your head.”

“I was reading the shelf label.”

“You have instincts.”

“I am going to leave you here.”

“Wait, I drove, I’m going to leave you here.”

Jennifer laughed.

She tried not to.

But it came out anyway.

A real laugh.

Not forced.

Not polite.

For a few seconds she forgot about Ethan.

Forgot about the kitchen.

Forgot about leaving home.

She simply stood in the lighting aisle laughing with Kathy.

Then the guilt arrived.

Sharp.

Immediate.

Jennifer stopped.

Kathy noticed the change.

“What?”

Jennifer looked away.

“Nothing.”

“Jennifer.”

She swallowed.

“I shouldn’t be having fun.”

Kathy’s expression softened.

“Why?”

“Because Ethan is hurt.”

“And you being miserable will fix that?”

“No.”

“Then you’re allowed to laugh.”

Jennifer stared down at the cart.

“It feels wrong.”

“It isn’t.”

Kathy rested a hand over hers.

“You can love Ethan and still survive Saturday.”

Jennifer blinked back tears.

Kathy squeezed her hand.

Then pointed toward another display.

“Now help me choose between the gold ornaments and the champagne ornaments.”

“They’re the same color.”

“They absolutely are not.”

—-

Jennifer assumed they were going home after the store.

Kathy let her believe that until she turned into the parking lot of a small restaurant twenty minutes later.

Jennifer looked at the building.

Then at Kathy.

“What are we doing?”

“Lunch.”

“You said errands.”

“Lunch is an errand.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is at my age.”

Jennifer looked through the restaurant windows.

Three women sat at a table near the back.

One of them waved.

Jennifer slowly turned toward Kathy.

“You did not.”

Kathy smiled.

“I may have.”

“You planned this.”

“I mentioned we might stop by.”

“Kathy.”

“They’re lovely.”

“I’m not meeting your friends.”

“They want to meet my niece.”

“That’s the problem.”

Kathy reached over and took her hand.

“No.”

Her voice was gentle now.

“You will be just fine.”

Jennifer looked through the window again.

The women were talking and laughing.

Normal women having lunch.

She suddenly felt like an intruder.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That my niece is staying with me for a while.”

Jennifer looked at her.

“Your niece.”

“My favorite one.”

“You don’t have any nieces.”

“Then your position is secure.”

Jennifer almost smiled.

Almost.

Kathy opened the car door.

“Come on.”

The women stood when Kathy and Jennifer approached the table.

Introductions happened quickly.

There was Diane, who wore large gold earrings and immediately complimented Jennifer’s boots.

Linda, who was tiny, energetic, and seemed incapable of speaking below full volume.

And Carol, who had perfectly styled silver-blonde hair and a calm, polished manner.

“This is my niece, Jennifer,” Kathy said.

The word still felt strange.

Jennifer smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Diane reached for her hand.

“We’ve heard so much about you.”

Jennifer froze.

Kathy smoothly pulled out a chair.

“All good things.”

“Mostly,” Linda added.

Everyone laughed.

Jennifer sat.

A glass of wine appeared in front of her within five minutes.

She didn’t ask who ordered it.

She drank anyway.

The conversation moved quickly.

Holiday decorating.

Thanksgiving disasters.

Adult children.

Grandchildren.

A cookie exchange the women’s group was hosting the following weekend.

Jennifer mostly listened.

At first.

Then Diane told a story about her husband setting fire to a kitchen towel while trying to flambé something no one had asked him to flambé.

Jennifer laughed.

Linda described hiding online shopping packages from her husband in the neighbor’s garage.

Jennifer laughed again.

Then Carol asked where Jennifer worked.

The table went momentarily quiet.

Kathy took a sip of wine.

Jennifer looked at her.

This was clearly a test.

Jennifer forced herself to breathe.

“I’m an executive assistant.”

“Oh, for who?” Carol asked.

Jennifer answered.

Then explained the office.

The work.

The schedule.

The women listened without suspicion.

Without hesitation.

They simply accepted her.

Diane leaned forward.

“That must be exhausting.”

“It can be.”

“Especially in those boots.”

Jennifer smiled.

“They’re actually comfortable.”

Linda shook her head.

“No heel is comfortable. That is propaganda.”

Jennifer laughed again.

By the time lunch arrived, she had stopped rehearsing every sentence before speaking.

She forgot to keep her hands folded.

Forgot to monitor the pitch of her voice.

Forgot to wonder whether someone was watching her.

For stretches of several minutes at a time, she simply existed.

As Jennifer.

The conversation returned to the upcoming holiday party.

“You have to come,” Diane said.

Jennifer shook her head.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Linda said. “You do.”

“It’s a cookie party,” Kathy added.

“That does not explain anything.”

“Everyone brings cookies.”

“That part I understood.”

“And wine.”

“That helps.”

Carol smiled.

“It’s really just an excuse to get together before Christmas.”

Diane pointed at Jennifer.

“You can come with Kathy.”

Jennifer looked around the table.

They appeared to mean it.

Not politely.

Not as an obligation.

They actually wanted her there.

“I’ll think about it.”

“No,” Linda said. “That means no.”

Jennifer laughed.

“Fine.”

She looked at Kathy.

“I’ll come.”

Kathy smiled into her wineglass.

Someone refilled Jennifer’s glass.

She was fairly certain it was her third.

She was equally certain she should have stopped at two.

She took another sip anyway.

Dessert arrived.

Coffee.

Chocolate cake.

A slice of lemon tart that somehow became communal.

Jennifer asked Carol what her husband did.

Carol smiled.

“My husband is a plastic surgeon.”

Jennifer nodded politely.

Kathy looked at Jennifer.

“You know…”

“I’ve been telling Jennifer she ought to meet him sometime.”

Jennifer smiled over the rim of her glass of Chardonnay.

“You’ve been telling me a lot of things lately.”

“I have.”

Carol laughed.

“We offer complimentary consultations.”

“No pressure.”

“You come in.”

“We talk.”

“If you don’t like anything you hear…”

“You walk out.”

Jennifer slowly turned her wineglass between her fingers.

“I’ve honestly never thought about plastic surgery.”

She paused.

“Well…”

She smiled to herself.

“That’s not entirely true.”

The table waited.

“I guess I’ve wondered what was possible.”

Carol nodded.

“That’s usually how it starts.”

Jennifer looked surprised.

“It is?”

“Most women aren’t looking to become someone else.”

“They’re looking to become a little more like the person they already see in the mirror.”

That sentence lingered.

Jennifer took another sip of wine.

“I wouldn’t even know what I’d ask.”

Carol smiled.

“That’s why consultations exist.”

Jennifer laughed softly.

“I suppose…”

She hesitated.

“I’ve wondered if there was anything that could soften my jaw a little.”

Carol nodded.

“Absolutely.”

“And maybe…” Jennifer stopped.

She looked around the table.

Every woman was simply listening.

No judgment.

No pressure.

Just conversation.

Jennifer shrugged.

“I don’t know…”

She laughed nervously.

“I’ve noticed some dresses just…”

She gestured awkwardly.

“…don’t hang quite right.”

Carol nodded.

“That can absolutely change.”

Jennifer smiled nervously.

“Maybe if I had a little more…”

She stopped.

Looked down.

Then quietly finished.

“…up top.”

The words escaped before she had time to think.

Silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Just surprised.

Jennifer blinked.

Then covered her mouth with one hand.

“Oh my God.”

She looked at Kathy.

Then Carol.

Then down into her wineglass.

“Did I just say that out loud?”

Linda burst into laughter.

“I think you did.”

Jennifer felt her face turn bright red.

“I was supposed to only think that.”

The entire table laughed.

Even Jennifer.

She shook her head.

“I blame the Chardonnay.”

Kathy smiled.

“Do you?”

Jennifer opened her mouth to answer.

Nothing came out.

Because she honestly didn’t know.

Was it the wine?

Or…

Had she been thinking exactly that every time she’d tried on a dress over the past few months?

She remembered standing in front of mirrors.

Turning sideways.

Wondering.

She’d never admitted it.

Not even to herself.

“How long is the recovery?”

The question left Jennifer’s mouth before she could stop it.

Everyone at the table went quiet.

Jennifer blinked.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t saying I was actually planning surgery.”

Carol smiled.

“I know.”

Jennifer glanced down at her wine.

“That sounded a lot more interested than I intended.”

“It’s usually the next question,” Carol said gently.

Carol slid a business card across the table.

“No decisions today.”

“Just information.”

Jennifer picked it up.

Turned it over once.

“I suppose…”

She smiled faintly.

“A consultation couldn’t hurt.”

“No,” Carol said warmly.

“It couldn’t.”

Jennifer slipped the card into her handbag.

Then looked down at her half-empty wineglass.

For the first time all afternoon…

She wasn’t entirely convinced the wine had been responsible.

—-

The drive home was quiet at first.

Not uncomfortable.

Just full.

Kathy drove.

Jennifer watched bare trees pass beyond the window.

The surgeon’s card sat inside her handbag.

She could almost feel it.

Eventually Kathy asked:

“So?”

Jennifer kept looking out the window.

“So what?”

“Was today unbearable?”

Jennifer thought about the store.

The employees.

The lunch.

The laughter.

The invitation.

The consultation card.

“No.”

Kathy waited.

Jennifer sighed.

“I had fun.”

Kathy smiled.

“I know.”

“That’s an irritating answer.”

“I’m an irritating person.”

Jennifer looked at her.

“You ambushed me.”

“I introduced you to three friends.”

“You knew exactly where lunch was headed.”

Kathy smiled.

“I suspected.”

“That’s practically the same thing.”

“Not at all.”

“You put me at a table with a plastic surgeon’s wife and poured Chardonnay into me.”

“I didn’t pour it.”

“You certainly didn’t stop anyone.”

Jennifer shook her head.

Then smiled despite herself.

The smile faded.

“I forgot for a while.”

“Forgot what?”

“Everything.”

Ethan.

Michelle.

The guest bedroom.

The front door closing.

Kathy nodded.

“That’s okay.”

“I still felt guilty.”

“That’s not useful.”

“I know.”

They drove another block.

Then Jennifer said:

“They were nice.”

“They liked you.”

“They don’t know me.”

Kathy glanced over.

“They know more than you think.”

Jennifer looked down at her hands.

Deep red nails, the skirt with her legs encased in tights coming out of it.

The surgeon’s card waiting inside her purse.

“Do you really think I should go?”

“To the consultation?”

Jennifer nodded.

Kathy was quiet for a moment.

“I think you should only go if you want answers.”

“Not because you think I need it?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Jennifer looked out the window again.

Kathy continued.

“But I also think you look in the mirror and see every place where Jennifer doesn’t quite match the picture in your head.”

That landed harder than Jennifer expected.

She swallowed.

“I don’t know what the picture is.”

“Maybe that’s what the consultation helps you understand.”

Jennifer rested her head against the seat.

“This is insane.”

“Probably.”

“I’m fifty-two.”

“Yes.”

“I’m living in my wife’s childhood bedroom.”

“Yes.”

“I’m apparently going to a cookie party.”

“Yes.”

“And now I may consult a plastic surgeon about breasts I never planned to have.”

Kathy smiled.

“When you say it all together, it does sound busy.”

Jennifer laughed.

She looked over at Kathy.

“Thank you.”

Kathy’s expression softened.

“For what?”

“For getting me out of the house.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jennifer paused.

Then smiled faintly.

“Aunt Kathy.”

Kathy looked over.

The smile that spread across her face was immediate.

Jennifer saw it.

And instantly regretted giving her the satisfaction.

“Don’t make a thing out of it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You’re using the voice again.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Kathy turned into the driveway.

Jennifer looked down at her handbag.

At the edge of the surgeon’s card visible through the opening.

Then toward the house.

The pink bedroom upstairs.

The posters.

The floral comforter.

For the first time since Ethan walked out, returning to Kathy’s house didn’t feel like going back into hiding.

It felt like coming home from a day out.

The realization should have frightened her.

Instead, Jennifer smiled.

Just a little.

And followed Aunt Kathy inside.