The Housewife(2)

I wanted to have Roy’s birthday party outside. We have the most beautiful terrace that flows onto the lawn with a perfect view of the roses. I love roses. I would have roses all over the house if we had enough of them. First thing this morning, I got Marie to help me set tables outside on the lawn, and I put out my prettiest tablecloths, which I’d freshly ironed the night before, even though they were perfectly ironed already, but there’s nothing like a freshly ironed tablecloth on a spring day to make you feel like the world is a happy place. Anyway, they’re the ones with the lace edging and garlands of little pink roses all the way around.

“It’s going to rain, you know,” Roy said. “That’s the forecast.”

I don’t listen to the forecast. If you trusted the weather forecast, you’d be in rubber boots on crisp, clear days and sheepskin jackets on eighty-degree ones. Even as the cloud gathered, I ignored Roy’s warnings.

“Baby. It will be wasted.”

But I wanted the party outside. I wanted the shimmering lawn and the blue sky and the roses. I wanted Roy to stand there beaming with his arm around my shoulders, his eyes filled with love, looking at me like I was the sun. I wanted the guests to toast him with champagne and laughter and sing “Happy Birthday” and think to themselves, Don’t they make the most beautiful couple?

And then it rained.





Roy is standing with other friends by the fireplace—right under Deborah’s portrait, as it happens. He smiles at me when I walk in, but then he notices the tray and clicks his tongue.

“Jodie, babe. You don’t have to do this. Marie will do it for you.” He puts down his glass of champagne on the mantelpiece and doesn’t use a coaster even though there are four of them right there. I put coasters everywhere. Good-quality ones, too, not cardboard, but pretty ceramic ones with butterflies on them.

“That’s all right,” I say, putting the tray down on the coffee table. “Please, help yourselves.” I give the ladies a sideways glance as they narrow their eyes at the food. One thing everybody agrees on is that I’m an excellent cook. I made all the food myself, including the mini lobster rolls and the pastry shells for the tartlets and the truffle mushroom arancini balls, and the zucchini ribbons filled with mint and feta on skewers. I’ve been at it since seven this morning and I did it all from scratch, including the birthday cake, obviously. I love cooking, but I especially wanted this party to be perfect for Roy.

Everything has to be perfect for Roy.





“So, how did you two meet?” Eileen asks.

Eileen is married to Jack, and they’re new to the neighborhood. Roy met Jack at the gym, and it turns out that Jack had read one of Roy’s books. Roy is a psychologist, and he has written half a dozen self-help books that have done very well. Roy told me Jack recognized him from his photo on the back of the book jacket. Roy has thick, dark hair, dark-blue eyes, and a boyish smile, so I can see how you’d recognize him from his photograph, even if it’s quite an old one.

Eileen and I are sitting on the sofa. There are a few of us in this corner of the living room, sitting on plush chairs with the rain pelting against the windows.

“At the International Ballroom,” Roy says. He’s had quite a bit to drink and he’s slurring his words. “It was at the… What was it, sweetheart?”

“The gala for orphaned children,” I say, reaching for a mini tartlet with Brie and fig jam on the tray.

Roy snaps his fingers, but they don’t make a sound. “That’s right. It’s a funny story, actually. Jodie was catering for the event—”

I pat my mouth with my napkin. “Waitressing.”

“—and the place was packed, you know how these things get. Elbow room only. And Jodie came through with a tray of…one of these, I think—”

“Oysters Mornay,” I say.

“—and I accidentally bumped into her, and next thing I know, she spilled the tray all over my tuxedo!”

Eileen laughs and the other ladies chuckle politely. They’ve heard the story before .

“So, there I was, covered in yellow blobs of something… I don’t know—”

“Mornay sauce.”

“It was dripping off me like you wouldn’t believe.”

Everyone laughs.

“And Jodie immediately offered to pay for the dry cleaning.”

“Aww,” Eileen coos.

Roy grins at me. “The poor thing was crouched on the floor, shaking like a leaf, picking up bits of whatever.” He continues in my voice, high-pitched and terrified. “‘I’ll pay for it, just send me the bill!’ But as you can imagine, I took one look at this beautiful creature”—he makes a sweeping gesture in my direction—“and I suddenly found myself crouched on the floor by her side, picking up the slimy pieces.”

I give him a small smile. It’s true. We were both squatting on the floor and I was jotting down my number on a coaster so he could let me know how much I owed him, and it was the strangest thing. As I handed him the coaster, his eyes met mine. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared at me, unblinking. It was like something out of the movies, where everyone and everything around us faded away and we were the only two people in the world. In the end I had to push the coaster into his jacket pocket.