'You said we would!'
'Next summer, not-'
'I won't be me next summer!'
'Joanna-'
'Don't you understand? It's going to happen to me, in January!'
'Nothing's going to happen to you!'
'That's what I told Bobbie! I kidded her about the bottled water!'
He came close to her. 'There's nothing in the water, there's nothing in the air,' he said. 'They changed for exactly the reasons they told you: because they realized they'd been lazy and negligent. If Bobbie's taking an interest in her appearance, it's about time. It wouldn't hurt you to look in a mirror once in a while.'
She looked at him, and he looked away, flushing, and looked back at her.
'I mean it,' he said. 'You're a very pretty woman and you don't do a damn thing with yourself any more unless there's a party or something.'
He turned away from her and went and stood at the stove. He twisted a knob one way and the other.
She looked at him.
He said, 'I'll tell you what we'll do-'
'Do you want me to change?' she asked.
'Of course not, don't be silly.' He turned around.
'Is that what you want?' she asked. 'A cute little gussied-up hausfrau?'
'All I said was-'
'Is that why Stepford was the only place to move? Did somebody pass the message to you? 'Take her to Stepford, Wally old pal; there's something in the air there; she'll change in four months.''
'There's nothing in the air,' Walter said. 'The message I got was good schools and low taxes. Now look, I'm trying to see this from your viewpoint and make some kind of fair judgment. You want to move because you're afraid you're going to 'change'; and I think you're being ir- rational and-a little hysterical, and that moving at this point would impose an undue hardship on all of us, especially Pete and Kim.' He stopped and drew a breath. 'All right, let's do this,' he said. 'You have a talk with Alan Hollingsworth, and if he says you're-'
'With who?'
'Alan Hollingsworth,' he said. His eyes went from hers. 'The psychiatrist. You know.' His eyes came back. 'If he says you're not going through some-'
'I don't need a psychiatrist,' she said. 'And if I did, I wouldn't want Alan Hollingsworth. I saw his wife at the P.T.A.; she's one of them.
You bet he'd think I'm irrational.'
'Then pick someone else,' he said. 'Anyone you want. If you're not going through some kind of-delusion or something, then we'll move, as soon as we possibly can. I'll look at that house tomorrow morning, and even put a deposit on it.'
'I don't need a psychiatrist,' she said. 'I need to get out of Stepford.'
'Now come on, Joanna,' he said. 'I think rm being damn fair. You're asking us to undergo a major upheaval, and I think you owe it to all of us, including yourselfespecially yourself-to make sure you're seeing things as clearly as you think you are.'
She looked at him.
'Well?' he said.
She didn't say anything. She looked at him.
'Well?' he said. 'Doesn't that sound reasonable?'
She said, 'Bobbie changed when she was alone with Dave, and Charmaine changed when she was alone with Ed.'
He looked away, shaking his head.
'Is that when it's going to happen to me?' she asked. 'On our weekend alone?'
'It was your idea,' he said.
'Would you have suggested it if I hadn't?'
'Now you see?' he said. 'Do you hear how you're talking? I want you to think about what I said. You can't disrupt all our lives on the spur of the moment this way. It's unreasonable to expect to.' He turned around and went out of the kitchen.
She stood there, and put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. She stayed that way, and then lowered her hand, opened her eyes, and shook her head. She went to the refrigerator and opened it, and took out a covered bowl and a market-pack of meat.
HE SAT AT THE DESK, writing on a yellow pad. A cigarette in the ashtray ribboned smoke up into the lamplight. He looked at her and took his glasses off.
'All right,' she said. 'I'll-speak to someone. But a woman.'
'Good,' he said. 'That's a good idea.'
'And you'll put a deposit on the house tomorrow?'
'Yes,' he said. 'Unless there's something radically wrong with it.'
'There isn't,' she said. 'It's a good house and it's only six years old.
With a good mortgage.'
'Fine,' he said.
She stood looking at him. 'Do you want me to change?' she asked him.
'No,' he said. 'I'd just like you to put on a little lipstick once in a while. That's no big change. I'd like me to change a little too, like lose a few pounds for instance.'
She pushed her hair back straight. 'I'm going to work down in the darkroom for a while,' she said. 'Pete's still awake. Will you keep an ear open?'
'Sure,' he said, and smiled at her.
She looked at him, and turned and went away.
SHE CALLED THE GOOD OLD Department of Health, and they referred her to the county medical society, and they gave her the names and phone numbers of five women psychiatrists. The two nearest ones, in Eastbridge, were booked solid through mid-January; but the third, in Sheffield, north of Norwood, could see her on Saturday afternoon at two. Dr. Margaret Faucher; she sounded nice over the phone.
She finished the Christmas cards, and Pete's costume; bought toys and books for Pete and Kim, and a bottle of champagne for Bobbie and Dave. She had got a gold belt buckle for Walter in the city, and had planned to canvass the Route Nine antique stores for legal documents; instead she bought him a tan cardigan.
The first Christmas cards came in-from her parents and Walter's junior partners, from the McCormicks, the Chamalians, and the Van Sants. She lined them up on a living-room bookshelf.
A check came from the agency: a hundred and twentyfive dollars.
On Friday afternoon, despite two inches of snow and more falling, she put Pete and Kim into the station wagon and drove over to Bobbie's.
Bobbie welcomed them pleasantly; Adam and Kenny and the dogs welcomed them noisily. Bobbie made hot chocolate, and Joanna carried the tray into the family room. 'Watch your step,' Bobbie said, 'I waxed the floor this morning.'
'I noticed,' Joanna said.
She sat in the kitchen watching Bobbie-beautiful, shapely Bobbie-cleaning the oven with paper towels and a spray can of cleaner. 'What have you done to yourself, for God's sake?' she asked.
'I'm not eating the way I used to,' Bobbie said. 'And I'm getting more exercise.'
'You must have lost ten pounds!'
'No, just two or three. I'm wearing a girdle.'
'Bobbie, will you please tell me what happened last weekend?'
'Nothing happened. We stayed in.'
'Did you smoke anything, take anything? Drugs, I mean.'
'No. Don't be silly.'
