Goody Two Shoes (21 page)

Reading my thoughts - as best friend’s do - Patty’s eyebrows pop up in light bulb fashion, “Wait, oh no, you aren’t changing your mind are you?”

My fingers fiddle with the lace at the top of the sheets, embarrassment is carved into my face.  Patty’s hand touches my hair in an effort to ease my pain; instinctively my head shrinks from her touch.  “Oh Tara, listen.  I swear I felt the same way you do right now.  It’s a complete shock to your system.  After my first session, I got in bed and didn’t show my face for nearly a week.  As your friend, I can’t let that happen with you.  Are you listening to me?”

I nod, still not daring to look into her eyes again.

“Then you have to trust me when I tell you that this too shall pass.  Right now you’re debating your morals, your values and probably your religion.  Look change is hard, nobody said it wasn’t.  You have to take a good, hard look at yourself and figure out what you want to do.  Jonathon promised you that you’d eventually get Simmons back, didn’t he?”

In fact Jonathon ‘guaranteed’ me that I’d get my husband back.  Thinking back on it I’m not really sure how anyone could make that big of a commitment.  Still, it’s what keeps me going through this training maze, and the glue that is keeping my sanity hinged.  I nod.

Honestly I’m proud of you!”

“Proud?” I whisper in disbelief.  I can tell you that I’m not very proud of myself right now.

Patty straightens on the bed, “Look, things had gotten so out of hand with Steve and neither of us thought we could keep going.  He had the Club he was all into, some business thing, and he ended up doing a lot with them while I was tending to the horses and padding around the house in my pajamas.  Some days I didn’t even brush my hair.  We just didn’t connect anymore.  Out of the blue one night he walked in and told me to get dressed, he was taking me out.”  I questioned being alone with him at all; I mean what was the point?  It was over and done, cooked and broiled.   And when we pulled up in front of the Jonathon house, I seriously freaked.  After all, they’re the elite and I’m a horse farmer.  Dinner with strangers at their private residence begs for a bit more effort than I’d put into the evening.  But he dragged me inside and I talked for hours with Ellen,” She pauses and takes a long drink from the water bottle still in her hand then continues.  “She explained to me that my husband needed me, that I needed him.  But she said things would never change unless I changed them.  Men will never change without guidance; if it were up to them we’d all still live in caves.  I know that sounds like some hokey seventies crap, but I was so desperate to save whatever crumbs were left of my marriage that she could’ve told me to stand on the street corner wearing a pink too-too and I would’ve thought it was brilliant advice.  Anyway, long story short, I met with Jonathon and the rest is history!”  She reaches over and tickles my ribs playfully.

I struggle with what she said; she’s right on the money, as usual in putting my misery to words.  I lift my eyes to hers shyly, “I don’t know, maybe you’re right.  My marriage is pretty desperate too.  I just feel so… I don’t know… dirty.”

Patty locks her eyes on mine, “I know.  And that’s the point!  Feeling dirty is pretty awesome!  Everyone should try it once in a while.  I’m tellin’ you, you can’t honestly say you’ve enjoyed life until you’ve done something so utterly nasty that it shocks your inner core.  Did you enjoy yourself yesterday?”

I nod, ashamed to admit the truth with sound.

“Then, my darling, you have truly begun to live.  Just because we’re looking at fifty doesn’t mean we need to lie down and play dead!  Just the opposite.  We’re done with all the bullshit of raising kids and cooking dinner.  Okay, even I admit it was pretty cool, but it’s over now.  Those kids are grown.  So whether you realize it or not, this is the time of our lives.  Until now, other urchins have been borrowing huge chunks of us.  They don’t need us anymore, so they gave us back to ourselves.  It’s
playtime
sweetheart!”

Tears seep from my eyes and I shake my head woefully.  I agree with her.  It’s that inner voice - that sounds a great deal like my mother’s - which keeps telling me cheating is a sin no matter what the cause.  That it would be better for me to live the rest of my life in a failed marriage than do what I’m doing!  But why
should
I be miserable until my dying day?  Why can’t I use paper napkins and wear Winter White?  Shouldn’t I do whatever - or whoever - it takes to save my marriage?  And while I’m busy debating which rules to keep and which ones to toss to the curb, I need to take a moment to consider that the Catholic Church also considers divorce a sin.  I’m screwed either way.  I sigh and place my hand over hers to show that I’m with her.

Patty smiles, “Good.  Now come in the kitchen and see the outfit Jonathon sent for you to wear Friday.  Girl you made some kind of serious impression.”

Patty helped me clear the cobwebs from my thought process and now I think she’s right.  The image of Mr. Galloway feeding me his manhood is burnt into my brain.  And I like it.  God help me I do.  Now the outfit, I’ll call it a costume, Jonathon sent me is a horse of an entirely different color.

I survey the damage in the full length mirror.  It’s a school girl style short plaid skirt, a white cotton shirt that’s at least two sizes too small for me, knee socks and two ponytail holders.  I shot Patty a weary glance, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in this even when I
was
a schoolgirl!”

Patty turns me around and around, “Actually, it’s a really hot look on you.”

“Oh be serious!  I look like a forty eight year old wannabe cheerleader and you know it!”

She shakes her head and laughs, “You do not.  I’m telling you, it’s smoking hot.  Look even
my
nipples are hard!”

I reach over and pinch her nipple hard, “Yeah, this coming from a woman who once wore a hoola skirt to school in the second grade.”

She laughs again, “Mom didn’t do laundry a lot and you know it!”

True to form, I begin to have second thoughts about this venture, again, just a few minutes after Patty leaves.  Then I look out the window to watch her leaving my driveway and see the poor excuse for a car I’ve been driving.  It’s a ten year old minivan that I no longer need, except of course for sex store runs with the girls.  All of my children are off in their lives, and it still has Cheeto’s stuck between the seats.  I can’t help but notice it seems mortified next to Patty’s brand new Mercedes coupe as she waves goodbye to me from the street.  Now I’m embarrassed by the van, and
for
the van!  Yet Simmons is reluctant to buy me something nicer.  He says it’s still “very practical” for me.  That solidifies my new ambition.  If Simmons wants to be boring and have a ‘ho hum’ life, then he can do it on his own.  I love Simmons, but I’ll be damned if I’ll sit around all day and stare at a lifetime of knickknacks for the rest of my days.  All that does is make me want to dust.  Vagina perks up at the thought.  No, it’s time to get out and have some fun.  I feel like a rebel, a woman of intrigue, my guilt is temporarily suspended as I glance in the mirror at the middle aged school girl who looks back at me.  Then I scramble to change before Simmons gets home and finds me wandering around the house like this.

The following Friday, I pull up to the address Jonathon gave me with a huge lump in my throat.  My entire body is shaking in terror; adrenalin alone carries me to the front door.  I knock, and wait.  I’m wearing a trench coat that I’d found in the back of my closet to cover up the outfit I’m wearing underneath.  Its common knowledge that the minute I head out the door dressed like a wannabe cheerleader will be the one time I run into the church Red Hat Ladies.  I shift on my feet, pulling at my ponytails.  I’m more nervous at this moment than I’d been on my wedding day.  I look back towards the street to see Cheeto gum minivan, and turn back to the door with renewed purpose.  That stupid van has become my motivation.  As a matter of fact, when I get home tonight I’m going online to start car dreaming.

When the ancient door opens, I’m startled to see a gigantic black man hovering in the doorway.  Good Lord I hope Jonathon doesn’t want me to give that man a blow job!  I’d choke on something that big!  The thought in my mind causes me to laugh slightly uncomfortably.  The large man grins, “I assume you’re Mrs. Townsend?”  He holds out his hand to help me in the door.  “I’m Hawthorne,” I gaze down at my pale hand deep inside his 4XL one, and feel Vagina snap to attention.  Chocolaty brown eyes bore into me and goose bumps pop up on my forearms as I move next to him.  Suddenly that thought I’d had a few minutes ago?  The one where I said I’d choke on a man that big?  Yeah, I’m willing to give it a shot.  It’s the exact same effect that Jonathon has on me; almost a mesmerizing gentleness.  One hundred percent confident man!

Judging from the gold Rolex on his twelve inch wrist, he doesn’t work here.  “Nice to meet you Hawthorne, are you visiting Jonathon?” I ask naively.

He laughs heartily and the crinkles in his eyes catch my attention.  He’s a kind man.  Only kind men have crinkles like that.  “No ma’am, I live here.  Me and Josephine, my wife, along with Jonathon and Ellen of course.”  His eyes glisten as he continues to hold my hand in his monstrous paw and I feel my body temperature rising to meet his.

“I see, well that’s great Hawthorne,” I’m not sure where to go with that.  Some kind of swinger affair I assume, and I can definitely see the attraction here.

He looks down at me like a gentle bear, “Jonathon wants you to wait in the living room.  Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head, “No thank you.”  Another panic attack assumes me and I wobble slightly in my heels.  Hawthorne’s steady arm on my elbow guides me to the sofa.  “I’ll bring you a chilled vodka.”

“Thanks,” I manage weakly, not bothering to wonder how he knows that chilled vodka will settle my nerves faster than anything else.  But he takes my dusty trench coat and disappears.

A few minutes later he’s back, and I slam the cold vodka without a thought.  “Now are you going to be okay?  Because I really need to go talk with Jonathon about his schedule before he gets himself into a rather sticky situation.”  He looms over me like a towering oak.

“Oh no, please go ahead.  I’ll feel fine now.”  And I do feel much better as the warmth of the vodka fills my shaking bones.

On the lavish couch, I rearrange my legs and play with my purse as the vodka kicks in.  I’m about to get up in search of another when Patty walks into the room.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt.

She shrugs lightly, “Just here hanging out this afternoon.  Jonathon wants me to escort you upstairs for your lesson.”

She extends her impeccably manicured hand to help me off the couch.  Once again I’m blown away by the transformation in my best friend.  We’ve known each other since Kindergarten and Patty’s problem had always been that she was a little too much on the tomboyish style.  While I was at home playing Barbies, she was out on the water with her brothers or hunting in the country.  High School caught her unaware and when boys started following her around she usually ended up beating their asses.  She was the original Southern Fried Chick, yet had absolutely no concept of her own beauty.  Fortunately for her, the look she coined - blue jeans, camouflage and diamonds - took off and now she’s in style.  But she wasn’t always this confident.  The constant awkwardness she’d had in school is no longer part of her, and she seems ready to tackle the world.  I take her hand and let her pull me from the sofa and guide me up the stairs.

The room she opens is dim and full of items crafted in another era, yet the effect is stunning.  I feel like I’ve stepped into a Princess’s bedroom.  Heavy velvet draperies in baby blue cut out any sunlight that dare to make its way into the space.  My eyes adjust to the fact that it’s an overly large bedroom, and a delicately carved rice bed stands against one wall as the dazzling centerpiece.

“Go ahead and remove your clothes,” Patty says plainly, as if I’m getting a pap smear.

I stare at her blankly, considering flipping her off.

“You heard me, go ahead and remove your clothes,” She repeats, less plainly.

What the hell is this?
  I think with fresh panic.  I wasn’t aware there’d be lesbian lessons, no, this is
not
cool.  “Patty, um, I don’t want to… you know…” I point from my chest to hers idiotically.  Guess who the awkward one is now?

Patty takes a stance, “If you don’t strip, I’m going to rip them off your body.”

“Patty, no, ugh.”

She steps towards me firmly, “One…”

“Okay, okay!” I say reaching up to unbutton my shirt with defiance still written on my face.  I’m down to my panties and bra but she persists.  The only thing I’m to wear is the shoes and socks.

“Now climb up on the bed and let me get this blindfold on,” she says softly now.

I follow her instructions not really knowing why, but find myself lying in the center of the bed as she puts a dark blindfold over my eyes.  “Is that too tight?” she asks as if I’m trying on shoes.

I shake my head no.  Any speech on my part right now will probably bring me to tears.  If this is part of some master plan to bring me to my knee’s its working!  I pinch my eyes closed beneath the blindfold, as if I can just shut out the world around me.  Patty’s voice is sharp against my silence, “Alright sugar plum, I’m leaving now.  Jonathon will be in shortly I suppose.”

Leaving?  I almost gasp with relief.  For a few minutes I thought… well let’s not go into all that’s been running through my mind.  As the door to the room shuts, I relax on the bed thankful that today’s lesson isn’t lesbianism.  Baby steps, right?  I’d prayed that was how they planned on turning me into a Wonder woman like Patty… with baby steps.  It could go either way - they may be planning to throw me right in the pool, sink or swim style, I have no idea.  But the door opens again and I hear several sets of footsteps standing beside the bed.  I absolutely do smell Chanel Number 5, and Jonathon’s cologne registers with a familiar hotness.  But there’s another man as well.  I can’t place the scent though.  Amazing how I’m relying on all senses other than sight, isn’t it?