Page 37 of Such a Good Wife

“Thanks!” she says, and I try to keep the look of pity out of my eyes as I watch her, bruised and battered, sucking down alcohol at record speed to numb herself, longing for another life. I don’t know what it is about her. I guess I see this person just under the surface that was bound for greater things once, like myself. Obligation keeps her here, away from the excitement and opportunity, culture and variety a city could offer. A city full of life, shifting and pulsing, not sedating, like the anesthetic of this sleepy town. I buy her a last round before making an excuse to go home.

I need to keep it together. It’s the night of the big Halloween party at the community center where everyone takes their kids to hit piñatas for their candy instead of trick-or-treating. It’s been tradition ever since the media scared everyone with stories of poison and needles showing up in the candy. With a crime like this happening in our safe town, I would be surprised if we see one kid on the streets trick-or-treating.

Over the last few years the tradition went from being just for the young kids to quite the community event. There’s a costume contest, a dance for the older kids and cash bar for the adults. I know I’ll see all of the neighborhood moms. Gillian and Karen will use it as an excuse to dress like “slutty cats,” wearing corsets and headbands with cat ears attached. The last thing I feel like doing is pretending to celebrate while overhearing whispers about the murder, but I need to keep a normal routine. I usually volunteer on the cleanup committee and help with decorations, and I haven’t called to offer my time this year, so I certainly have to at least show up.

I stand in the living room with Ben, who is wiggling in his costume as I try to sew on a couple of the last details. Collin has fed Claire tonight, and I hear him put her plate in the dishwasher and come into the living room. He sits and flips channels.

“You look great, sport,” he says to Ben. Rachel surprises me when she comes in with a Rosie the Riveter costume.

“Wow, look at you.” I smile, impressed.

“Cool, Rach. Who are you supposed to be?” Collin says, and Rachel and I roll our eyes at one another.

“Dad.”

“What? Lucille Ball?” he says, genuinely thinking he nailed it.

“Who?” Rachel asks.

“I think you need some red lipstick with that outfit,” I interrupt.

“Really?” she asks, excited. I take the sewing pin out of my mouth and hold Ben’s hem taut, nodding in the direction of our room.

“In my top drawer,” I say, and she runs to find it. I find adults dressing up for Halloween obnoxious and I’m glad Collin has no interest either. He smiles at me and shrugs, admitting he truly doesn’t understand her costume. He flips to the local news. The meteorologist says there will be scattered showers later in the evening, and then the face of an impossibly thin woman with a nest of strawberry hair that seems to swallow her up appears on the screen. In the corner, the name “Georgia Bouvier” appears, along with the word “witness” underneath it. When she speaks, her words are barely understandable through her thick drawl.

“I was walking my dogs down past the woods behind Main Street there, just near the man’s house, I guess. I didn’t know no one lived there again. I heard somethin’. Some yellin’ I think it was, but I didn’t think much of it at the time.”

The screen cuts back to the news anchors, who try to decode the woman’s statement.

“The police believe that the anonymous 911 call made just before 9 p.m. the night of the murder is suspicious because this witness, Georgia Bouvier—in addition to the victim’s estimated time of death, per the coroner’s office—indicates that this crime took place a couple of hours before the anonymous call was made. When asked exactly what she heard, Bouvier said it sounded like a man yelling at someone to ‘get out.’ This was closer to 7 p.m. More on this as it develops.”

“Mom,” Ben complains. I’ve stopped working on his mask and stand with it in my hands, fixated on the TV. I quickly refocus my attention and make sure my voice sounds light.

“Alllmost done here.” I tie on his little mask and he hops off the step stool he was standing on and runs to look at himself in the mirror. Collin has flipped to some sports headline show as he laces up his dress shoes at the edge of the couch. I feel like I could be sick. Who was Luke yelling at to get out? Rachel comes back with bright red lips.

“Are we ready?” she asks impatiently, not looking up from her phone where she texts Katie photos of her costume. It’s nice to see they’re still friends, despite Katie’s move. I suppose that’s one thing social media is good for.

“Come on, kiddo,” Collin calls to Ben, who is bounding down the hall and directly out the door to the car. As we put on our coats, Collin whispers, “I’ll drive so you can get nice and tipsy for later.” He raises his eyebrows at me, flirting, and kisses me on the cheek. “I mean, if you want.” I try very hard to make my face look the way it’s supposed to look, and not drained of blood and apathetic.

“And me without my slutty cat costume,” I say back, smiling. I’m trying to resemble the person I was not so long ago.

At the party, Collin stands in a circle of dads who make chitchat and drink beer near the bar. I spot Liz and Tammy by the punch bowl. They wave and come over.

“Long time, no see,” Liz says, sipping a martini. She’s dressed like Cher and calls Tammy and me party poopers since we didn’t dress up.

“It has been,” I say. They never really give me much guff about being busy, since they know the history with Ben and the stress they “could not even imagine,” and they think I am “just a saint” to handle it all so well. Yeah, I think to myself, I handled it as poorly as a mother possibly could.

“We loved having you at the book club. You should come by next week, join us again.”

“Okay, I might,” I say. My smile is weak and my voice is tired, I can tell.

“Goddamn it,” Liz says running over to the barrels where the kids are bobbing for apples and her son is starting to unzip his little fly. “It’s not a toilet, Brian!” she yells, picking him up before he pees in the apple water.

Tammy looks at me and giggles. Gillian and Karen are coming over from the beer garden, dressed as twin cats. Behind them I glance over to Collin who mouths an exaggerated Pineapples? It’s our code word at parties. He’s asking if I want him to come and save me. I can’t help but smirk at this. It’s been a long time since we pulled out that little trick. I mouth back with a laugh, It’s okay.

“Hey, girls!” Gillian hoots, and after a few minutes of small talk she’s already scanning the room for women to make fun of.

“Eleven o’clock. Dear Lord.” We all look over to our left.

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