soccer from the local booster club. I damned well expect you to be there for your son!'
'What the hell has gotten into you?' he demanded. 'The Change, I suppose. I work like a peon to keep you and the kids comfortable, and all you can do is bitch at me.'
'I've been on hormone replacement therapy for two years now if you had ever bothered to notice. Are you having an affair, Jeff?' Nora shot back at him, astounded even as the words left her mouth that she had said them.
'I don't have to dignify that question with a reply, Nora,' Jeff said loftily. 'I'll call you later this week.'
'Don't bother! Just be home for the awards. J. J. is your only son,' Nora snapped. 'At least the only one that I know of, dear.'
The phone line went dead, but not before she had heard the sharp intake of his breath.
'Omigod!' she half whispered as she put the phone back down in its charger. He hadn't denied a thing. He had practically confirmed it by not answering her question. If he wasn't having an affair, he would have said so. But he hadn't said so. She was surprised that he hadn't asked her to define the word
Nora stood up and paced the room. She had no idea of the time, but it had to be afternoon because the sun was flooding the den with its bright light. She had never expected to come to this point in her life when she married Jeff. Nora believed when you got married, you stayed that way until one of you died. That was the way it had always been. That was the way it was supposed to be. It was like that here on Ansley Court, but then, they had all been lucky. No one worked at marriage anymore, it seemed. Divorce was so commonplace nowadays.
She walked into the front hallway and stared at herself in the large mirror over the hall table. Alright. She was heavier than the 120 pounds she had weighed when they were married. She wasn't a flaming redhead anymore. She pushed at the hair near her temples. It was faded even more than the rest of her head. She peered closely into the mirror. Okay. She had a few laugh lines around her eyes. But everyone she knew did too, damnit! But she wasn't a bad-looking woman. In fact she was in pretty good condition for a woman in her late forties if you overlooked the fact that her boobs were going south, and her waist wasn't quite as narrow as it had once been, and her thighs were a bit mottled. Weren't everyone's at this point?
Nora sighed. So she wasn't the girl he had married anymore. He wasn't the boy she had married either. But there was no doubt about it, unfair as it seemed. Men simply did age better than women in most cases. She knew that Jeff worked out at the gym in his office five days a week. He insisted on low-fat, low-carb meals when he was home. He didn't smoke, and drank rarely except very expensive wines. The truth was that he looked better now than he had when they were first married.
Nora wandered absently back into the den. He hadn't said anything to her yet, but he was going to, and she sensed it was coming soon. She flopped back on the couch. Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! There was that niggling question again. What was she going to do to survive this disaster? Suddenly Nora was exhausted with her newly discovered tension. She dozed restlessly for how long she didn't know. Her confusion and reverie were broken by a young voice calling.
'Mrs. B.? It's me, Maureen. I've got your KFC.'
'Thanks, honey,' Nora called back. 'Leave it on the counter, will you?' She didn't want Maureen to see her, for she realized that she had been crying in her sleep. She must really look like hell. If Maureen saw her, she would call Carla at the hospital, and Carla would call her. There was nothing anyone could do for her right now.
'Okay, Mrs. B. I ran into J. J. coming in. He said he didn't want to disturb you. He'll see you tomorrow. Daddy got you mashed potatoes and coleslaw. I hope that's alright,' Maureen said.
'Fine, sweetie, my favorites,' Nora assured her. 'Tell your dad I said thanks, and ask him to let me know what I owe him, okay?' She heard the kitchen door close behind the girl. Standing up, she went out into her kitchen to get her dinner. Taking a plate down from the cabinet, she opened the cardboard box. Rick had gotten her a breast and two wings. It was still hot, and it smelled good. She put it on her plate along with the biscuit, which she buttered. Then she emptied the container of mashed potatoes and gravy onto the plate, opened the coleslaw and took it into the den. Returning to the kitchen, she grabbed a fork, a napkin, and a glass of peach iced tea. Back in the den she turned on Peter Jennings, and sat down to eat. The news was the same as always. War and a fluctuating stock market.
Mick and Jerry, the family cats, appeared magically, licking their chops and meowing. They looked up hopefully at Nora. She laughed, pulled the meat from the two wings, put it on a napkin, and set it down on the floor for the two felines to devour. When the news ended, she turned the set off. The clock on the fireplace mantle struck seven o'clock, and as it did she considered her conversation with her friends this morning. She was alone tonight. No one but her and the cats in the house. She could order this channel thing. They all seemed to like it, and damnit, she could use a lift. She suspected it was some sort of X-rated channel, but why not? Carla was her best friend in all the world, and Carla wouldn't steer her wrong. Nora picked up the telephone and dialed Suburban Cable.
Two rings, and an automated voice was droning in her ear. 'Thank you for calling Suburban Cable. If you are experiencing technical difficulties, please press one. If you would like to order one of our pay-per-view movies, please press two. All other callers, please remain on the line for the next available representative. Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received.'
Was The Channel a movie? Nora wondered. No. Carla would have said so. She hung on the line as the elevator music kicked in, playing that golden oldie, and rather applicable to her situation, 'These Boots Are Made for Walkin'.' Nora felt a grin crease her face.
'Suburban Cable, this is Joyce. How may I help you?' a cheerful voice suddenly chirped in her ear.
'I… I'd like to order The Channel,' Nora said, the words rushing out.
'Your telephone number, please,' Joyce said, sounding totally disinterested in Nora's choice of entertainment.
'It's 567-2339,' Nora replied.
'Buckley? At 720 Ansley Court?'
'Yes.'
'And you are?' Joyce asked.
'Mrs. Buckley,' Nora replied.
'Very good, Mrs. Buckley. You'll find your selection tonight on channel sixty-nine at eight p.m. Is there anything else I can do for you at this moment?'
'No. Thank you,' Nora answered, and then she hung up. Omigod! She had done it. She giggled to herself, and began to finish her supper. She realized now that she couldn't wait until eight. It probably was a porn channel, she decided, but she didn't care. She and Jeff had once watched a couple of movies from the video store. Her husband had claimed to be turned off by them, or so he had said. Nora had thought the films silly, but they were certainly stimulating, she recalled. It was probably just what she needed. An evening of dirty movies, and a pint of caramel praline ice cream. She picked her chicken down to the bone and cleaned her plate of everything else.
Putting her dishes in the dishwasher, Nora went upstairs, showered quickly, and got into a clean nightshirt that had a teddy bear on the front of it claiming, 'I don't do mornings.' Giving her ice cream ten seconds in the microwave, she got a spoon and a glass of water, and set them on the table by her large recliner. Then settling into the chair with a contented sigh, she picked up the remote as the clock struck eight p.m., pressed it on, and coded in sixty-nine. The screen was black.
'Oh, for God's sakes,' Nora muttered aloud. Did they forget to send her the signal? Damn! She had been looking forward to this.
But then suddenly the screen lightened, and a rather mellifluous voice said silkily, 'Good evening, and welcome to The Channel, where your fantasies become your reality.'
Well, that was certainly confusing, but absolutely intriguing. Then the screen changed again. Nora found herself looking into a rather large living room that came into perfect view. 'Oh,' she said softly. It was a beautiful room. Just like one she had always imagined, but certainly not one that Jeff would have liked. It was very modern and elegant. All glass and chrome and brass with large overstuffed white sofas and chairs, with emerald green and sapphire blue silk pillows. Even the carpet was creamy white. It looked as if when you stepped on it you would be
