wondered how long itwould be before they ended up in an office like hers, possibly even across her desk. Would she recognize them if they did?
As for the teenage girl giggling inside the protective grasp of her grandparents, Renee surmised that she was the product of a broken home. Her grandparents, probably on her father’s side, hadn’t seen her in several years. Her mother had finally given her reluctant consent to the reunion, and the girl and her grandparents were almost beside themselves with joy.
Renee realized she was staring and looked away, thinking that Philip was probably right when he said that her profession was starting to color her attitude to life. When he first made this observation, Renee had been defensive, even hurt. “Isn’t yours?” she had asked, peevishly.
But maybe he was right, Renee thought now. It was true that in her world everyone was either on the verge of or recovering from a divorce. Even in her fantasies, she thought, watching the middle-aged couple push past the teenager and her grandparents and disappear down the hall. Why couldn’t life be simple? Why couldn’t we all just live happily ever after, the way the storybooks promised? Who needed reality when reality was usually so damned unpleasant?
Not my reality, she assured herself quickly. I married the handsome prince. I’m living my fantasy. Give or take a few pounds.
Three more people burst through the doors into the arrival area, two women and a young, sulky-looking boy, not more than ten years old. Sisters, Renee quickly deduced. One never married, the other newly separated, bringing her reluctant son to Florida for a brief holidaybefore the custody battles began. Possibly a bribe. “See, sweetie, isn’t Florida beautiful? Stay with Mommy and we’ll take lots of trips like this.” Renee turned away. Philip was definitely right.
She wondered what Philip was doing. He had told her this morning that he would try to accompany her to the airport, that she should phone when she was ready to leave. But when she called, his secretary informed her, in clipped British vowels, that Dr. Bower was tied up with a patient and could she please call back in five minutes. Renee had waited, called again, been given the same message, and then waited until she would be late for her sister’s plane if she waited any longer, dialing her husband’s number one final time only to find it busy. Then she left. She was almost twenty minutes late getting to the airport, but luckily so was Kathryn’s flight. Renee looked at the row of telephones against the far wall and thought of calling Philip yet again, hoping he wouldn’t be angry that she hadn’t waited. It occurred to her briefly that it was she who had reason to be angry, but she quickly dismissed this thought from her mind.
Renee looked back at the swinging doors and saw a woman several years older and several inches taller than herself step through them and stop. The woman was very pale, the color and consistency of skim milk. Her thin blonde hair hung lifelessly around the sides of her hollow face. This woman has suffered a recent tragedy, Renee thought, walking closer. She’s been married for almost two decades to a man she loved very much, a man who recently abandoned her, not through divorce but through death. She has no children (having suffered at least three miscarriages), no career (her husband having been hercareer) and now, as she can see it, no reason for living. And so, last night, she telephoned her sister and a few friends to say goodbye—her friends assumed she was going to Florida to visit her sister; her sister assumed she could call her in the morning—and then she settled inside a nice hot bath and calmly slit her wrists. Her friends found her at just before midnight and rushed her to the hospital where she was bandaged, scolded, and released. The wounds weren’t very deep, the doctor told her matter-of-factly. He said she was depressed, and prescribed Valium
As for the teenage girl giggling inside the protective grasp of her grandparents, Renee surmised that she was the product of a broken home. Her grandparents, probably on her father’s side, hadn’t seen her in several years. Her mother had finally given her reluctant consent to the reunion, and the girl and her grandparents were almost beside themselves with joy.
Renee realized she was staring and looked away, thinking that Philip was probably right when he said that her profession was starting to color her attitude to life. When he first made this observation, Renee had been defensive, even hurt. “Isn’t yours?” she had asked, peevishly.
But maybe he was right, Renee thought now. It was true that in her world everyone was either on the verge of or recovering from a divorce. Even in her fantasies, she thought, watching the middle-aged couple push past the teenager and her grandparents and disappear down the hall. Why couldn’t life be simple? Why couldn’t we all just live happily ever after, the way the storybooks promised? Who needed reality when reality was usually so damned unpleasant?
Not my reality, she assured herself quickly. I married the handsome prince. I’m living my fantasy. Give or take a few pounds.
Three more people burst through the doors into the arrival area, two women and a young, sulky-looking boy, not more than ten years old. Sisters, Renee quickly deduced. One never married, the other newly separated, bringing her reluctant son to Florida for a brief holidaybefore the custody battles began. Possibly a bribe. “See, sweetie, isn’t Florida beautiful? Stay with Mommy and we’ll take lots of trips like this.” Renee turned away. Philip was definitely right.
She wondered what Philip was doing. He had told her this morning that he would try to accompany her to the airport, that she should phone when she was ready to leave. But when she called, his secretary informed her, in clipped British vowels, that Dr. Bower was tied up with a patient and could she please call back in five minutes. Renee had waited, called again, been given the same message, and then waited until she would be late for her sister’s plane if she waited any longer, dialing her husband’s number one final time only to find it busy. Then she left. She was almost twenty minutes late getting to the airport, but luckily so was Kathryn’s flight. Renee looked at the row of telephones against the far wall and thought of calling Philip yet again, hoping he wouldn’t be angry that she hadn’t waited. It occurred to her briefly that it was she who had reason to be angry, but she quickly dismissed this thought from her mind.
Renee looked back at the swinging doors and saw a woman several years older and several inches taller than herself step through them and stop. The woman was very pale, the color and consistency of skim milk. Her thin blonde hair hung lifelessly around the sides of her hollow face. This woman has suffered a recent tragedy, Renee thought, walking closer. She’s been married for almost two decades to a man she loved very much, a man who recently abandoned her, not through divorce but through death. She has no children (having suffered at least three miscarriages), no career (her husband having been hercareer) and now, as she can see it, no reason for living. And so, last night, she telephoned her sister and a few friends to say goodbye—her friends assumed she was going to Florida to visit her sister; her sister assumed she could call her in the morning—and then she settled inside a nice hot bath and calmly slit her wrists. Her friends found her at just before midnight and rushed her to the hospital where she was bandaged, scolded, and released. The wounds weren’t very deep, the doctor told her matter-of-factly. He said she was depressed, and prescribed Valium
Similar Books
