Disillusioned (6 page)

Never comfortable with the constructs of
society, Tessa had an internal radar tuned to detect the social
inconsistencies that most people glossed over for the sake of
civility. She couldn't understand why some incompetent or
unscrupulous people rose to prominence under the auspices of a
supposedly “civilized” society. Part of her antipathy for parties
grew from the profusion of such characters in attendance – men who
relied on bloviating speeches to prove their intelligence and women
who used masculinity to establish equality. In reaction to their
presence, Tessa's restraint tended to dissolve at inopportune
moments.

She worked hard to constrain her tongue at
Merritt's parties, forcing herself to behave around his coworkers
in a way she would not have countenanced in other settings. Over
the years, she had learned that her lack of social propriety could
hurt her husband's career. Whenever she spoke her mind, without
fail, she managed to do so at the wrong time and with the wrong
person.

Though she sometimes grew frustrated that
Merritt overlooked his coworkers' hypocrisy, she had known what to
expect from him since she had met him. In fact, he had turned what
began as her disdain into admiration; he had transformed his vices
into virtues, at least in Tessa's mind. When he had first shown
interest in Tessa, she had rejected him outright. He had, she
decided, bought into “the system,” and the mindlessness of such a
choice repulsed her.

Still, hesitant to do anyone injustice, Tessa
embarked on the a campaign of observation, watching Merritt from a
distance and trying to determine his true character. On the
surface, he seemed the typical popular, handsome, all-around
American teenager – not Tessa's style; Tessa had always preferred
the bad boy. When she had looked closer, though, she had seen
something unexpected.

While he played the role of conformity, he
possessed an almost Machiavellian ability to manipulate the system
around him. Intrigued, she realized that she had definitely
misunderstood him. With her new insights came an unwilling
admiration. Rather than buying into the status quo, Merritt seemed
to share Tessa's disdain for establishment and bureaucracy. Not
only that, but like Tessa, his disregard for the powers-that-be
stemmed, not from self interest, but from the belief that “the
establishment” did not sufficiently value “the individual.” Part of
the reason that so many people liked Merritt stemmed from his
genuine belief in each individual's worth.

Merritt had so affected Tessa, in fact, that,
as she had watched him work his magic, Tessa had begun to question
her own methods of dealing with bureaucracy. With his pleasant
demeanor and smiling countenance, Merritt accomplished more good
for the downtrodden than Tessa had ever achieved with her
vociferous protestations against injustice. After a short time,
Merritt had transformed Tessa's patronizing derision for him into a
passionate approval. Her original assessment turned to his favor as
she saw that she could have both the moral, ethical man she desired
and the rebel - just one with a cause.

Can't get much badder than
Machiavelli
, she had grinned to herself
when she had accepted his outstretched hand for the first time.
Tessa could clearly remember his smiling eyes as he dragged her to
his lunchroom table, the beginning of a school crush that had
eventually resulted in marriage. Tessa had lost willingly; Merritt
had defeated her resistance. Since that moment, he had always
conquered her completely.

Sinking into a chair near the back of the
banquet hall, Tessa submerged herself in the past, smiling at
Merritt where he stood stalwart among the revelers. The scene
before her amused her as long-buried memories woke and stretched in
her mind. Breathing deeply, she purposely recalled the blossoming
admiration that had first warmed her to him: his unbelievable
diligence as he pursued his goals, his ridiculously slapstick sense
of humor, his competent command of a crowd. For a moment, Tessa
almost forgot the cacophonous discord of her surroundings.

Unfortunately for Tessa, though, her mind
could not completely filter out all of the bedlam around her. Every
time that her eyes wandered from Merritt's face, Tessa encountered
some stuffy, artificial executive-type who reminded her too much of
what Merritt had recently become. In fact, he seemed magnetically
connected to David Brabham and the two other vice presidents in
attendance. Sure, she had known the young Merritt, and she could
drum up nostalgic memories on command, but he had morphed from a
brilliant and adorable young man into an almost carbon copy
businessman, sold out to the corporate world.

Tessa could have overlooked
his conformity, however, if she hadn't held other frustrations with
Merritt. Perhaps, she realized, her ego felt too offended by his
free criticism of her, but it seemed the more firmly entrenched he
became in Pericorp, the harder he had gotten on Tessa.
Harder on me,
she
realized suddenly,
and more
distant.
He charmed and simpered at
everyone he met, playing the most convincing role she had ever
seen. To the outside world, he seemed pleasant and amusing,
intelligent and resourceful. At times, he proved the same for
Tessa, but most of the time, he just wanted to solve her problems
and set her neatly on the shelf so he could go back to subjects
that offered him more prospects of fulfillment. Tessa hated feeling
like an afterthought, but she was an adult; she could take care of
herself. Would he treat their children the same? She had no way to
know. For now, he seemed all attentive to them, even while
neglectful of her. Perhaps he would continue the duality of thought
into their older years. Tessa could only hope.

Despite her best efforts, Tessa could
not expel the hollow ache that settled in her chest as she
considered the change in Merritt. He had been her best friend – she
had grown up with him – yet, now he felt like a stranger. For every
positive experience with him, Tessa could recall several painful
ones. Now that life had overshadowed love, Tessa's good memories
crashed under the weight of too many unresolved
conflicts.

So much stupid
emotion,
she reprimanded herself. Tessa
despised feeling subject to emotion, because she could never quite
maintain control of herself the way she knew she needed to. Could
stirring up her displeasure with Merritt accomplish any good? No.
Would she actually act on any of her feelings? Never. Recognizing
the futility of her thoughts,
Tessa
slammed her emotions down into the ever-growing pit in her stomach.
She determined to quit feeling sorry for herself; otherwise, she
would never keep up the charade of civility for the rest of the
night.

As the thumping of a new song brought her
fully back to the present, Tessa forced herself to rise from her
seat and to begin full on mingling with the crowd. She vowed to be
a good girl, and not to verbalize the many controversial thoughts
that might spring into her mind.

The weather and fashion are
safe,
she prepared herself.
Politics, religion, and kids are off
limits.
When she had skirted the large
refreshment tables, Tessa aimed for a nearby doorway through which
she spied several groups playing intensely at cards. Delighted,
Tessa breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the games would
provide distraction for her troubled mind. Not only that, but the
activity would remove much of the expectation for small talk. She
peered down at the queen of spades that a young man laid down on a
table, curious whether the hidden card would unveil a
blackjack.

When she heard the voice from behind her, her
interest in the card game evaporated, and her anticipation of
respite crashed back to earth. Such a voice calling Tessa's name
turned her heart to a leaden lump in her chest.

Why, God?
Tessa lamented.
Why did
it have to be her when I'm trying so hard to be good?

“Tessa, dear, would you mind?” came the
condescending tone. “My friends and I are deep in the most
controversial discussion, and we know how you love controversial
discussions.”

“Karen Whitfield,” Tessa plastered on a smile
as she turned toward the voice. “How are you?”

The only discussion Karen wanted with Tessa
was the one that would land Tessa squarely into trouble. Rare were
the meetings between them when Tessa managed to hold her
tongue.

Karen's favorite soap box involved her
attempt to wrench all women into the new century, whether they
agreed with Karen or not. To do this, she sought to reform all the
poor, backwards women who chose to eschew a career in order to keep
a home, take care of their husbands, and raise children, and to
drag them kicking and screaming into sophistication. To Karen,
traditional mores emanated from a dark time when women had no
rights and male oppression raged rampant. As such, she felt it her
duty to single-handedly reform womankind and ensure that her
enlightened planet would never return to that infamous era.
Somehow, she seemed to feel that Tessa's existence threatened her
stated goal.

“We were just discussing one of your favorite
topics,” Karen oozed slyly. “I mean, motherhood certainly seems to
possess the entirety of your life, so I assumed that you could
speak intelligently on the subject.”

Tessa's jaw clenched, her
imagination supplying all of the implied insult of Karen's
words.
Not trusting herself to speak,
Tessa waited for a direct request from Karen.

After an awkward silence in
which Karen no doubt expected an answer, the militant feminist
unleashed a barrage of insults. “It seems to me,” she began,
hooking her arm through Tessa's, “that motherhood
is often so oppressive to women that they find
little fulfillment or enjoyment of life. I would never deign to
impose an opinion on you, but surely you find your menial life a
bit demeaning. Being the wife of my
close
colleague
, I knew you would want to share
your point of view on the topic.”

You don't
want my real opinion,
Tessa glared at where the petite woman's fingers gripped her
arm. Even more than the motherhood insults, t
he way Karen had leaned on the words “close colleague”
rankled the thin veil of Tessa's self-control. The phrase dripped
with innuendo toward Merritt, and Tessa felt the claws of her
defense raise in response to the Karen's implied attraction. Many
women admired Merritt, and rightfully so, but Karen's philosophical
beliefs released her from any moral code that might have restrained
another woman. Her feminist point of view said that she could
employ any tactic for self-advancement that a man could, and that
included latching onto more powerful people. She no doubt assumed
that any “closeness” with an executive vice president would help
her career. Tessa didn't worry about Merritt's faithfulness for a
moment, but she still despised Karen for considering the
possibility.

Breathing deeply, Tessa reminded herself that
she had vowed to behave, so she turned to face the other women. She
ignored Karen and began her most magnanimous, unoffensive defense
of motherhood. “Certainly there are some mundane aspects to raising
children,” she agreed equitably, reciting the mantra she had sold
herself for the last few years, “but the rewards far outweigh the
costs. I have matured more through caring for and molding my
children than I did in all the years of my career or schooling.”
True,
she acknowledge against her silent
self-accusation.

“Yes,” Karen scoffed, “but the servility, the
unsanitary duties. Diapers, whining, snotty noses. How much
degradation can one take?” She shuddered in mock horror.

Tessa had intended to
control herself – she really had, and even until she opened her
mouth, she could have withdrawn her response. When she later
considered her words, she would chastise her own hypocrisy.
Honestly,
her mind told
her a half hour later,
Karen even hit upon
some of my own complaints
. Unfortunately,
to hear the words come out of the mouth of someone so smug and
self-righteous, someone so given to self-indulgence and
inexperienced at self-sacrifice, and to see the mocking attitude so
obvious in her feigned disgust: these factors ripped the muzzle off
of Tessa's tongue and sent it into attack mode.

She drew in a breath and painted a sarcastic
smile on her face, “Well, Karen,” Tessa turned back to the smug
woman at her elbow, “I would take the unseemly duties of my job any
day over the butt-kissing and sycophantic subservience necessary to
succeed in the business world. Not to mention that, in your
position, a woman has to either sell herself to the most powerful
bidder or cease being a woman and act like a man instead - at
least, if she wants to break the glass ceiling.”

While Karen stood aghast with her mouth open,
staring in shock at Tessa, a chuckle sounded

from behind Tessa's back.

She glanced over her
shoulder to see a man she had never met, though he seemed vaguely
familiar. If she had tried to characterize his smile at the moment,
she might have called it leering, though Tessa did not know whether
he smiled at Karen or at herself. Tessa did not turn fully to see
him. She had no way of knowing if he had laughed at her, and she
already felt the need to recede into the corners.
Why had she let Karen bait her into such a brash
comment? Tessa berated herself.
Sudden
chagrin washed over her as she realized how impolitic her words.
When she glanced over at Karen, Tessa expected to see a glare, but
Karen didn't seem even to have noticed Tessa's comment. Instead,
Karen swept grandly past Tessa and latched onto the arm of the
snickering man.