What is Love? Read Free Page B

surprise to anyone when Betty’s life
fell apart. Some women have no control of anything and slip from one drama to
another, never knowing why. But even poor Betty didn’t deserve this. No woman
does. “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Ellen said, hoping to change topics. “She’s a
tough one.”
    “No one is tough
when they’ve lost everything.”
    Ellen stared at the
heartless smiles of the women surrounding her, each content knowing her own
marriage was secure. Was there any point trying to defend Betty against these
shrewd judges? Ellen wished she could smack these ladies, or at least tell them
off. There seemed no limit to their cruelty. But they were also her friends.
She hated to admit, hypocrites or not, it was great to have such influential
friends. “She doesn’t deserve—”
    “Well, I thought she
deserved every bit of it, poor goat,” Greta said. The circle laughed in a
cloned response, then stopped. Ellen turned in the direction of their shocked
faces. Betty Caulfield stood before them.
    “Betty—” Ellen said,
interrupting the awkward silence. “You look … lovely . We were all wondering, who made your dress?”
    “Oh yes,” cooed
Greta.
    The other women
joined in a flourish of compliments. Ellen smiled, watching this animated
display of synthetic camaraderie. She wanted to laugh aloud. Liars. Hypocrites.
But then, that was well known and accepted. It was all part of the game. The
big lie. She was as much a part of it as anyone. Like the popular crowd at
school, you’re either in or you’re out. And no one wanted to be out. The
slightest social gaffe could cast you out, never to return. Was everyone
else also haunted by the constant fear gnawing at you? The fear of a dreaded “incident”?
    As she surveyed the
scene, she spotted Jonathan at the bar across the room and caught his eye. He
glanced away.
    Is he drinking?
Oh, don’t let him drink too much, not tonight. She excused herself. A chill
flashed through her as she wove her way through the crowd. Jonathan was no
longer at the bar or anywhere in sight. She scanned the hall, hoping to find
him. The huge bouquets of scarlet roses, set on fourteen-foot tall wrought iron
stands and shaped into massive spheres with ivy and rosebuds trailing down,
blocked most sightlines. As she passed the staircase, lit a dramatic crimson
from the thousand red votive candles lining twenty limestone treads, Ellen
noticed several candles near the top were out. She moved through the crowd in
search of both her husband and someone to relight the candles, but as she
continued to circulate, her concerns dissolved with every flattering encounter.
She was a star tonight, and she stood surrounded by women in red, all admiring
her good fortune.
    “You are such an
inspiration,” one of them said, gushing with enthusiasm. They nodded in
approval.
    Ellen smiled. “The
secret is forgiveness and commitment. No one is committed anymore.”
    Patty asked, “Did
you hear about Mrs. Z’s friend?”
    “What will she do?”
Ellen tried to convey deep concern.
    “After he remarries,
guess who will get all the invitations?”
    “It’s a crime,”
Greta said. “One minute you’re on everyone’s list, and the next you don’t
exist.” She took a generous sip of wine, no doubt her second or third glass.
    Ellen shook her head
solemnly. “It’s not right.”
    “Right or not, it is
awkward,” Patty added. “I mean, you can’t have them both at your party,
especially if he brings the baby wife.”
    “Well, of course
he’ll bring her,” Greta snapped. “That is the whole point, isn’t it? Look at
me and my young bride .” The women sipped their drinks in unified solidarity
against the unspoken enemy they all feared. “We are becoming extinct. One by
one. Ellen,” Greta said, raising her glass, “here’s to hanging on to your man.”
    The women raised
their glasses, clinking them together as they affirmed in unison, “To Ellen and
Jonathan.”
    Patty