Babyland (39 page)

Authors: Holly Chamberlin

BOOK: Babyland

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“Sure,” Nell said, “on television anything can happen. Aliens can be fuzzy smart alecks and astronauts can keep genies in their living rooms.”

“By the way,” Grace added, “in real life the actor who played Mike Brady, all-American dad, was gay.”

“You know, I always thought he was the only character on the show with half a brain.” Nell turned to Laura. “So, as a single mother of college-aged kids, I'm out of luck?”

“Not necessarily,” Laura said, missing, as she often did, her sister's sarcastic tone.

“Speaking of kids,” I said to Nell, “how are they faring? I'm sure they have opinions about the divorce and their father's new life. And I'm sure they're not shy about voicing them. Kids that age don't seem to be shy about anything.”

Nell shrugged. “Remarkably, both Colin and Clara have been pretty quiet about the whole thing. I know Richard's coming out and our divorce must have shaken them up, but so far, I haven't seen much fallout. We'll see. Maybe they're having a delayed reaction. Maybe when they're thirty or forty they'll go after Richard with an axe.”

“Colin and Clara love the both of you,” Laura protested. “They understand.”

“Kids never understand their parents' divorce,” Nell said. “Not really. They have to blame someone. With my luck they'll probably decide I'm the one they hate for breaking up the family.”

“But, Nell,” Grace protested, “Richard is gay. He's in love with a man. You had no choice. You had to get divorced. You're not to blame.”

Nell's face took on a hard look. It was a look I'd seen too often since Richard's bombshell. I looked forward to the day when it would go away for good.

“I could have figured things out a long time ago,” she said. “I could have been smarter; I could have been not so embarrassingly stupid. I can easily imagine my kids having no respect for me. I mean, what kind of example did I set for them? Why would either of them ever want to get married after the debacle that was their parents' marriage?”

“Richard was very deeply in the closet, Nell,” I said carefully. “You couldn't have known.”

“I should have known,” Nell replied fiercely. “I was his wife, for God's sake! How could I not have known? I was so wrapped up in my own life I never really saw the person on the other side of the bed. And yet, I loved Richard; I thought I was being his true partner.”

“You were his true partner,” Grace said. “Don't blame yourself for his choice of secrecy.”

Nell ignored her and ranted on. “I swear I still don't know when he was having all this anonymous sex because we spent almost every night together, from dinner through Jay Leno. Sure, sometimes he had to work late, but when he came home, he never smelled of anyone else's cologne! I'm furious with myself for being so blind. I'm furious with Richard for tricking me so thoroughly. And I'm furious for having wasted twenty years of my life as Mrs. Richard Allard. Who was she, anyway? Who was that sorry woman?”

I wished I had an answer to that question, something smart and also comforting, but I didn't. Neither, it seemed, did Grace or Laura.

“Um, I have a date next weekend,” Laura said.

Grace rolled her eyes.

Nell poured more wine into her glass from the bottle on the table. “In spite of my sister's freakish success in the dating game,” she said, “I believe that the four of us are at a disadvantage. We've been off the market for too long, and yes, I know I'm mixing metaphors. Single women our age who've never been married or who've never been in a long-term relationship know the rules. And you can bet they're not going to share insider information with us. They'll view the four of us as an additional threat. We're swelling the already swollen population.”

“Why thanks, Nell,” I joked lamely. “You've really lifted my spirits.”

“Sorry. Anyway, I have no interest in dating just yet. Not much interest, anyway. God, it's not like my dating someone is going to make Richard jealous!”

Grace looked troubled. “I've been wondering. What kind of man is available to women our age? And to women the age we're going to be in a few short years? Men in their thirties and fortiesâif we can find themâare either married or looking for younger women.”

“Some younger men are really into dating older women,” Laura said. “You know, because it's hip.”

“Dating is the operative word,” Nell pointed out. “Most young guys aren't going to stick around for marriage and menopause.”

“And older men?” I said. The oldest man I'd ever been with was twenty years my senior. I was just out of college. I thought I was being terribly adult, about to embark on an affair with an âolder man.' Visions of foreign cigarettes and dry martinis and expensive lingerie danced in my head. And then we had sex and I discovered that the reality was far less interesting than the fantasy. He wore faded boxers. Alcohol made him break out in hives. His smart suits hid a significant roll of fat around his middle. When he called me a few days later, I told him I'd gotten back with an old boyfriend. It was a lie.”

“Well, that depends on the man, I guess,” Nell conceded. “If he's tired of life's nastiness, if he's learned the value of true companionship, he might be interested in meeting a contemporary.”

“It's all so unfair.” Laura pouted; it made her look about fifteen. “Women have the advantage for such a short time. The minute we hit thirty we, like, stop being desirable to a huge part of the male population. Men grow into the advantage. A man in his fiftiesâeven if he's not filthy richâcan still get a woman in her early thirties. If he is filthy rich he can get a woman in her twenties. It's ridiculous!”

I wondered how carefully Laura had considered this fact when she dumped Duncan.

“But, consider the mature man,” Grace said. “I mean, someone not looking for a trophy wife, someone looking for love. If I met a man in his fifties who wanted to go out with me, I'd say yes. Assuming, of course, he seemed nice. And had a job. And wasn't an artist.”

Nell laughed. “Yes, you've had more than your share of the creative types. Still, think about the baggage an older man is sure to be lugging around. Like bitter ex-wives and greedy kids. And, if he's been living alone for some time, nasty bachelor habits.”

“Everyone has baggage, “ I said. “We'd be terribly boring if we didn't.”

“True,” Nell agreed. “But with age come health problems. Once a man reaches fifty the illnesses start coming on fast and thick. Heart problems are almost guaranteed. Weight gain. Prostate troubles. Erectile dysfunction. Then a man reaches his sixtiesâif he reaches his sixtiesâand it just gets worse. Before you know it, you're a forty-five-year-old with an invalid on your hands.”

“That's not always true,” I protested. “The general population is healthier than ever.”

“Except for the obese,” Laura added, nodding none too discreetly toward a table at which sat a hefty couple. “There's an epidemic, you know.”

“People live longer lives. Medical care is available.” Grace paused before adding: “For those who can afford it.”

Nell shrugged. “I'm just trying to make a point. Sure, older men are appealing in a way, but in another way, they're simply not.”

“Well,” Laura said, “older men aren't an option for me, anyway. I need a man who's young and virile, someone who wants to start a family. I don't want my children to have a doddering old man for a father.”

“Heaven forbid,” Grace murmured.

“He needs to be able to help with midnight feedings and take the kids to soccer practice. He can't be falling asleep at the dinner table and in bed by eight.”

“Here's a news flash, Laura.” Nell leaned close to her sister, as if about to impart a vital piece of information. “All parents fall asleep at the dinner table and yearn desperately to be in bed by eight. You have no idea what you're in for.”

Laura made a dismissive motion with her hand. I noticed her empty ring finger and wondered what she'd done with the set Duncan had worked so hard to afford.

“I remember when Colin and Clara were little,” she said. “It didn't seem too bad.”

Grace and I shared a look. It was hard to know if Laura was truly dim or just besotted with the notion of having a cute, cuddly baby of her own.

“Because you went home at night and left the demons to me!” Nell laughed a bit harshly. “You were the fun, young aunt. I was on the front line; I was the mean, crabby mommy. I was the one who cleaned up vomit and went to boring teachers' conferences and made the rules the demons struggled mightily not to follow.”

Laura looked deeply distressed. “How can you call Colin and Clara demons? They're your pride and joy! Aren't they?”

For a second, only a second, Nell's eyes glimmered with tears. “My children,” she said, “are my life. Now that Richard isn't.”

I called for the check.

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