Page 26 of Such a Good Wife

When she says this, I feel a rush of relief.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s hard to be friends with chicks. Don’t you think? They’re usually nasty to each other. I don’t have very many girlfriends.”

I do know what she means. I think of Liz, Karen, Gillian, all the women who I see a few hours here and there at social events who I call my friends. They know that Monica Harkins will never lose that baby weight, and that Katherine what’s-her-face got fired and might lose her house, and that Tammy’s husband is probably gay, but they don’t know a damn thing about me. Not really.

I live on Willow Street, I take care of Ben and Claire, my daughter is in honors English classes, and my husband is a riot, well loved by all the other husbands. I sit quietly for most of the PTA meetings and barbecues, and I just sort of blend in. I’m on the invite list—a half of a couple that my neighbors invite places, but I’ve never had a real conversation with any of them.

“Yeah. Me either,” I tell her. “It is hard.”

“I’m sorry ya had to see all that, few weeks ago. It’s embarrassing. I hope you didn’t feel like you had to be nice to me ’causa that.”

“No. I mean. I wanted to make sure you were really okay.”

“Why do you care?”

“I...” I’m surprised by this, and stutter over a response.

“I didn’t mean for that to come out shitty, but I seen online that you got a family, kids and all. You live in the fancy part of town. Just curious, like, why you’d be concerned. Is all.” She takes out a cigarette that she can’t smoke inside, and taps it on the table, absently.

“I think anyone would be concerned—wanna try to help,” I say, and she laughs, a short burst, then she’s serious again.

“Nobody I know gives two shits. Ya don’t bring it up, ya just deal.”

“I understand why you don’t feel like you can report it, but you have a witness now. He can’t get away with something like this.”

“It’s over. I’m not goin’ back to that bar, I’m not lettin’ him come over when he calls anymore. It’s done, as far as I’m concerned.”

She pulls the beer out of her drink and chugs down the remainder. If it were me I would make a sign that says Joe Brooks Is a Rapist and picket outside the police station if they wouldn’t listen. It’s not me though. And Lacy Dupre has no credibility. What if he’s doing this to other women? He has the gun and badge, and he can really get away with whatever he wants, as it appears.

“I would go with you, if you wanted. He can’t get away with—”

“Look. I’m happy right now. Joe’s leavin’ me alone and I’m not strippin’ anymore since my new job at the truck stop. I even met someone...someone I really like, and I can’t mess all that up, okay. It’s in the past.” She looks away, not wanting to deal with any pressure from me. This isn’t what she signed up for tonight. She just wanted a new girlfriend, so I let it go.

“You met someone, that’s great.”

“Yeah, he’s really hot. And smart. Like supersmart.”

“I’m happy for you. Smart is good.” I gesture to the waitress to bring me another rosé. Lacy beams as she talks about her new romance.

“I know it’s new, like only a week and all, but I’ve seen him almost every night, so in regular dating time where you only go out on a weekend, that’s like five weeks. That’s how I see it.”

“Sounds like you’re really into him.”

“My sister is knocked up, so she’s not goin’ out anymore, drinkin’, so she’s staying with Ronny Lee, so I can go see him. It’s like a storybook. So romantic. He writes books actually, can you even believe that?” When she says this, all the color drains from my face, I feel dizzy, my heart is in my throat.

“What?”

“Isn’t that crazy? I mean maybe it’s TMI, but this guy can fuck. God almighty. He makes ya feel like the most important person in the world. It’s like love at first sight. Did you feel that way when you met your husband? Is this the way it’s supposed to be, and I was just stuck with fuck-face Joe Brooks all this time?” She is genuinely looking to me for an answer, some hopeful words, and I can’t speak. I try to swallow down the tears climbing up my throat.

“Are you talking about Luke?”

“Oh yeah! The guy you were buying that book from. So much has happened since then, I forgot you know him too. Do you know him well?”

She’s eager for a yes so she can ask me all about him. I feel paralyzed in my chair. When my wine comes, I drink it in a few swallows.

“No, not at all. I just—just from the bookstore. In passing.”

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