All her life Dana regarded her appearance in segments. She had large gray-green eyes, high cheekbones, a round forehead, and feathery eyebrows. Her chin was short, squared off, and clefted. Her hair was a sandy blond like her mother’s, its thickness probably from her father’s Mediterranean genes. Also from his side, the Peloponnesian nose that overshadowed the rest. It was what the boys in high school saw first at a dance. If it weren’t for her breasts and a shapely body, she would never have been asked to dance.
“Ironically, people may not even know that you had it done. They’ll notice an improvement and ask if you lost weight or are doing your hair differently. But they’ll pick up the change in your spirit, your increased well-being. And that’s what this is all about.”
He then moved to his computer and maneuvered the mouse. “Unfortunately, I’m tightly booked, but it’s possible I can put together a surgical team during off-hours or a weekend.”
“That would be great.” She could barely hide her excitement.
“But it may be on very short notice.”
“That’s no problem.” She’d give him her cell phone number.
“Fine.” Then he asked about any allergies, hay fever, rhinitis, nasal congestion, any past ailments such as sinusitis, asthma, bronchitis, any injuries to her nose, et cetera. She had none.
“Good,” he said when he was finished.
There was a queer expression on his face that made his cheeks dimple and his eyes glitter. “The other day you’d asked about Versed and possible side effects.”
“Side effects?”
“You know, saying the unexpected.”
She felt herself tense up. “Uh-huh.”
He smiled. “Well, yes, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you.”
It took her a moment to realize what he was saying, then she was instantly mortified. He was no doubt sugarcoating some outrageous thing she had babbled in front of the nurse. “Oh, God.”
“Really, it was amusing, and a first.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Then he said, “So I guess your marital status has not changed. You’re still separated.” He looked down at her naked ring finger.
“Yes. We’re considering a divorce.” The word still felt alien to her. Especially since that wasn’t completely true. Steve certainly was not considering it, and she only experimentally.
Monks nodded; his face had an odd look of speculation. “I’m sorry for the unpleasantness of that, no matter what the outcome.”
“Thank you.”
A slightly crooked smile spread across his mouth. “How about this Saturday evening?”
Her head was spinning. “Yes, sure, of course,” she said, without thinking if she had anything else scheduled, deciding that whatever it was she’d get out of it.
“Fine,” he said with a wide grin. “And we’ll celebrate your new beginning. But I do have a favor to ask: that you please don’t mention it to anyone, even Mrs. Walker. If word gets out, it might end up in the newspapers. And we both can do without that.”
“Of course.”
All the way home she fought the urge to call Lanie.
50
SUMMER 1975
“You’re still seeing her.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“It’s all over your face.”
But he was lying. And she knew it—as if a ticker tape were playing across his forehead: Yes. I see her. I see her every day. I kiss her in the halls. After class at her house. I touch her. She touches me. I want to fuck her.
But he said none of that. Yet she knew. And she found out.
One July afternoon four months after the play, he and Becky were walking hand in hand to the Capitol Cinema to see
Because of the crowd, she said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her eyes shot tracer bullets at them.
Instantly, his arm fell from Becky’s shoulder like a log. He stepped out of the ticket line and moved to the car’s open window to say it was nothing, that they had just bumped into each other, that Becky was giving him a friendly hello kiss—but Lila blazed at him long enough for her fury to sear his brain. Then without a word she pulled away.
“What’s her problem?”
He made a weak shrug. “I dunno.”
“I’m sorry, but I think she’s weird. She controls you like you’re her puppy.”
In a weak attempt to defend Lila, he said, “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. She’s jealous of you seeing anybody, which is wicked sick.”
“She’s not sick,” he muttered.
“She’s obsessed. You’re all she has.”
But it was true, all of it. Lila owned him—body and soul. When she got mad and withdrew into her shell it left him feeling desperate. It was her ultimate strategy and his ultimate weakness. He’d do anything to win her back. Anything for her love and approval, including the extinguishing of his own will.
“Drop it, okay?” he said.
Becky made a face and shrugged it off.
He bought the tickets, though the last thing he wanted to do was see a movie about a killer shark. But they did, and for two hours he tried to lose himself in the action. But it was impossible. Lila’s face of rage glowed like an ember in the fore of his brain, making him dread going home. He’d prefer the shark.
After the movie, he walked Becky home. She was noticeably cooler, saying only that she hoped things worked out with his stepmother.
Lila was not home when he returned. Nor was his father. Grateful he had been spared an encounter, he went to bed early, hoping to sink into oblivion. He was deep asleep when the door slammed open and the light went on. Lila’s face was white stone. The clock radio said 12:06. His heart instantly slammed against the walls of his chest. “Wha-what?”
She moved closer and he could smell the sugary haze of the Shalimar. Also the dark fumes of scotch. “So, you’re not seeing her.” Her voice was like broken glass.
“We just went to a movie.”
She stepped closer. “Is that right—just went to a movie?”
“Yeah, no big deal.”
Something was in her hand behind her. “No big deal, huh? You’re
“What do you mean?”
“You’re seeing her. You’re dating her. You’re boyfriend-girlfriend.”
“No, we’re not. Wh-what’re you talking about?”
“What am I talking about? I’m talking about
Her hand snapped up with a photo of Becky. She turned it over. “With love forever, Becky.”
