American Wife

I looked up from the puzzle. “Or you could relax for a change.”

But already, she had that musing, preoccupied look on her face: a project. She disappeared upstairs, where her sewing machine was in my old room.

Through the window screen, I occasionally could hear Ella talking to Barbie—“Now it’s time to do backstroke”—and then she was quiet. When I went outside to check on her, she was squatting by the bowl of blue liquid. “Ladybug, how are—” I started to say, and when she looked up, I saw that she was wearing a glittery purple tiara and matching purple droplet earrings. “Oh my,” I said. “Where did you get those?”

“From the lady.” She pointed to the house directly across the street from ours, which was the Janaszewskis’.

“She gave them to you?” I said.

Ella nodded.

“Did she help you put them on?”

Ella nodded again. The plastic tiara was tucked behind her ears, the gaudy curlicues on either side of the front band rising to meet an over-size fake amethyst in the center, and above it, a sparkly star. The earrings were clip- ons, the amethyst droplets nickel-size and encrusted with ersatz diamonds. Immediately, I knew who would get a kick out of these types of accessories, but of course I couldn’t be certain, and even if I were, I had even less idea of the gift’s meaning. Was it a casual unanalyzed kindness to amuse a little girl, a playful peace offering, or was it the opposite, a mocking criticism with a pointed subtext: Your daughter is a princess.

“Did the lady say her name?” I asked.

Ella shrugged. “Grandma’s making Barbie a towel.”

“I know she is, and please be sure to thank her. Ella, did the lady who gave you this jewelry—did she know your name?”

Ella squinted, trying to remember. “I think so.”

“What did she look like?”

“Mommy, she went right there. You can go see her yourself.”

“Did she look closer to my age or Grandma’s?”

Briefly, Ella scrutinized my face, and then she said, “She looked old, but like you.”

I glanced again at the Janaszewskis’ front porch. Was this an invitation, a challenge, or both? Or was it merely a toy Dena’s mother had picked up at the drugstore and thought Ella would like?

I took a seat on the stoop, waiting to see if anyone would reemerge from their house, and soon my mother joined us—she’d even stitched a red B onto the miniature towel, which was clearly snipped from a worn-out full-size one—but she didn’t ask about the origins of the tiara or earrings; she must have imagined they’d come from me. When we all went inside close to an hour later, we’d seen no other activity at the Janaszewskis’.

I’D TRIED CALLING our house in Maronee several times, at different hours of the day and evening, and Charlie had never answered; however, when I finally left a message, he called back within a few hours. We arranged that Ella and I would meet him the next day for a picnic lunch at a park off I-94, between Riley and Milwaukee. The picnic was my idea, and I thought it was better than a restaurant, in case he lost his temper and began to yell; also, it would allow him and Ella to run around. Our phone conversation was brief and not explicitly hostile—it wasn’t emotional in one direction or the other—but it was definitely strained.

Ella and I made chicken-salad sandwiches, and my mother insisted on baking blondies, and Ella and I were about to leave the house when Arthur called. He said, “No one was hurt, Chas is fine, but he got a DUI last night, and he asked me to call to say he can’t meet you. He knows you’ll be furious, but Alice, I just saw him, and trust me, there’s nothing you could say to him right now that he hasn’t already thought of. A few hours in jail gives a man time for soul-searching, you know?”

“Is he—” Once again, I was in the kitchen, meaning I couldn’t speak freely. “Is he still incapacitated, is that why he’s not calling himself?”

“He’s not still in the slammer, no—he’s over at our lawyer’s office. He’s pretty frantic to keep this under wraps because it wouldn’t look good to Zeke Langenbacher, so Dad and Ed are working the phones. Chas told me to see if tomorrow for lunch works for you instead, but maybe you can call him yourself later today? Not that I don’t love being his secretary and all.”

“When did—” But there was no question I could ask that would not include a word that would sound alarming to Ella and my mother: injury or accident or lawyer or jail. And then (it was oddly liberating), I thought, He can clean it up. I didn’t need to intervene. If his car was totaled, if the newspaper caught wind of it, if he was kicking himself for risking his new job before it had even started—those were his problems. Arthur had said that no one was hurt, and that was all I cared about. I said, “Thank you for calling, but about tomorrow, the answer is no.”

“Alice, he really feels bad for—”

“The answer is no,” I said. “That’s all you need to tell him.”

When I’d hung up, I said brightly to Ella, “It turns out Daddy has a meeting for the baseball team today, and he can’t get away. But he’s so disappointed about not seeing you that he had an idea, and I’m only agreeing to it because you’ve been such a good girl. He wants me to buy you a tape of Dirty Dancing.”

Ella had been watching me suspiciously—I dared not even look at my mother—but when the words Dirty Dancing left my mouth, Ella squealed and threw her arms in the air. “Now?” she said. Her eyes were wide.

“Why don’t we have our picnic in the backyard?” I said. “Mom, you should join us—there’s an extra sandwich.” I did look at her then, and her expression was optimistic in a guarded way; she didn’t want to know the truth any more than I wanted to tell it. I said to Ella, “After lunch, ladybug, you and I will drive over to the mall.”

My mother said, “Alice, we don’t have a—What do they call the machines?”