phone call last night, just after having totally meaningless sex with an almost total stranger. The call was from my ex-husband, not the man we just talked to, but a man you don’t know even exists, my
first
ex-husband—I’m sorry, I don’t know why I never told you about him
,
please forgive me. Anyway, he was calling to tell me that my mother has been arrested for shooting a man in the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel in Toronto.
Amanda stabs at a piece of lettuce. Then she stuffs it inside her mouth before she can say these things out loud. “No,” she says instead, offering her friend her most reassuring smile. “There’s nothing.”
After lunch, Amanda thinks of going back to her office, but decides against it, not feeling up to dealing with Kelly’s questioning eyes. Nor can she go to the gym, she decides, in case Carter Reese is there. And there’s no point in going back to court. It’s way too early. It could be hours, even days, before the jury returns with its verdict.
On impulse, she hops on the old-fashioned green trolley that runs back and forth between Clematis Street and nearby City Place, a recently constructed mecca of shops and restaurants that occupies several city blocks. Maybe she’ll go to a movie, she decides as she disembarks the trolley and makes her way through the slow-moving crowd toward the tall escalator. But everyone in Palm Beach seems to have had the same idea, and the line for the multiplex is long and unruly. Amanda returns to the glorified shopping mall below and spends several hours peering absently into the line of store windows, looking for a dress for Ellie’s wedding. But even though she’s tempted by a long black dress she sees hanging on the far wall in Betsey Johnson, she doesn’t go inside. Instead she continues trancelike up one street and down another, then sits for a while on an empty bench beside the large decorative fountain in the middle of the busy square, watching as children duck in and around the adults eating on the outside patio of Bellagio, an Italian restaurantrenowned more for the size of its portions than the quality of its food.
Seeing Sean with his new wife has upset her, she realizes, although she’s not sure why. A touch of nostalgia maybe. He was a good man, a kind man, a man she’d literally run into while walking aimlessly down a crowded beach. They’d gone for drinks, then dinner. She’d found him easy to talk to. Or maybe she’d just felt like talking. And he’d obviously liked what he was hearing. At least in the beginning.
Beginnings are easy, Amanda thinks. I’m great at beginnings.
Endings too, she decides, jumping to her feet and almost plowing into an elderly couple carefully trying to navigate their way along the uneven stone surface. It was her decision to end her marriage to Sean, just as it was her decision to walk out on her earlier marriage to Ben. None of that growing-old-together nonsense for her. None of that till-death-do-us-part crap. Love ’em and leave ’em. That’s her motto. And it’s always preferable to be the one who says good-bye.
Puppet
, she hears someone shout.
Over here, Puppet. This way.
Amanda’s head snaps to her right. But all she sees is a group of children playing. “Over here, pea-brain,” a young boy is shouting at his friend. “No, stupid. This way!”
Puppet! Puppet!
Amanda ducks into the nearest store to escape the sound, grabs several hangers of clothing off a rack, and heads for the dressing rooms at the back.
“Can I help you with that?” a salesgirl asks. She is maybe eighteen, the same age as Amanda when she married Ben.
Has he remarried? she wonders. “No, I am not doing this,” Amanda says out loud, rubbing her forehead in an effort to erase Ben from her mind.
“I’m sorry?” the salesgirl asks. “You
don’t
want to try these things on?”
“What? Yes, I do. Of course I do.” Minutes later, she is standing in the cramped little space they called a dressing
first
ex-husband—I’m sorry, I don’t know why I never told you about him
,
please forgive me. Anyway, he was calling to tell me that my mother has been arrested for shooting a man in the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel in Toronto.
Amanda stabs at a piece of lettuce. Then she stuffs it inside her mouth before she can say these things out loud. “No,” she says instead, offering her friend her most reassuring smile. “There’s nothing.”
After lunch, Amanda thinks of going back to her office, but decides against it, not feeling up to dealing with Kelly’s questioning eyes. Nor can she go to the gym, she decides, in case Carter Reese is there. And there’s no point in going back to court. It’s way too early. It could be hours, even days, before the jury returns with its verdict.
On impulse, she hops on the old-fashioned green trolley that runs back and forth between Clematis Street and nearby City Place, a recently constructed mecca of shops and restaurants that occupies several city blocks. Maybe she’ll go to a movie, she decides as she disembarks the trolley and makes her way through the slow-moving crowd toward the tall escalator. But everyone in Palm Beach seems to have had the same idea, and the line for the multiplex is long and unruly. Amanda returns to the glorified shopping mall below and spends several hours peering absently into the line of store windows, looking for a dress for Ellie’s wedding. But even though she’s tempted by a long black dress she sees hanging on the far wall in Betsey Johnson, she doesn’t go inside. Instead she continues trancelike up one street and down another, then sits for a while on an empty bench beside the large decorative fountain in the middle of the busy square, watching as children duck in and around the adults eating on the outside patio of Bellagio, an Italian restaurantrenowned more for the size of its portions than the quality of its food.
Seeing Sean with his new wife has upset her, she realizes, although she’s not sure why. A touch of nostalgia maybe. He was a good man, a kind man, a man she’d literally run into while walking aimlessly down a crowded beach. They’d gone for drinks, then dinner. She’d found him easy to talk to. Or maybe she’d just felt like talking. And he’d obviously liked what he was hearing. At least in the beginning.
Beginnings are easy, Amanda thinks. I’m great at beginnings.
Endings too, she decides, jumping to her feet and almost plowing into an elderly couple carefully trying to navigate their way along the uneven stone surface. It was her decision to end her marriage to Sean, just as it was her decision to walk out on her earlier marriage to Ben. None of that growing-old-together nonsense for her. None of that till-death-do-us-part crap. Love ’em and leave ’em. That’s her motto. And it’s always preferable to be the one who says good-bye.
Puppet
, she hears someone shout.
Over here, Puppet. This way.
Amanda’s head snaps to her right. But all she sees is a group of children playing. “Over here, pea-brain,” a young boy is shouting at his friend. “No, stupid. This way!”
Puppet! Puppet!
Amanda ducks into the nearest store to escape the sound, grabs several hangers of clothing off a rack, and heads for the dressing rooms at the back.
“Can I help you with that?” a salesgirl asks. She is maybe eighteen, the same age as Amanda when she married Ben.
Has he remarried? she wonders. “No, I am not doing this,” Amanda says out loud, rubbing her forehead in an effort to erase Ben from her mind.
“I’m sorry?” the salesgirl asks. “You
don’t
want to try these things on?”
“What? Yes, I do. Of course I do.” Minutes later, she is standing in the cramped little space they called a dressing
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