The Housewife(70)

She is carrying Deborah’s wedding dress, the one Roy couldn’t bear to part with. She lays it carefully on the bed, then she undoes the belt of her robe and lets it drop so she’s dressed only in lacy white panties and bra.

She holds up the dress and actually steps into it. She twirls around in front of the mirror, running her hands down her waist and turning this way and that.

“Oh, Roy, my love…I do! Yes, I do, my darling!” She laughs again, her head thrown back. She goes back to admiring herself, smiling, tu rning, talking to herself, telling herself how beautiful she is, and how happy she is, and how happy they will be together. I can’t peel my eyes off her. I am filled with equal parts revulsion and fascination, my eye glued to the tiny gap in the door.

And then she stops. My heart drops into my stomach. She turns around, her face as evil as anything I’ve ever seen, and looks straight at me.

She holds up the skirt of the dress with both hands, like she’s Cinderella on the night of the ball. But her face is nothing like Cinderella’s. It’s hard, and her makeup is too harsh, and she looks completely, utterly deranged.

“Jodie!”

Oh, God. I take a step back and hide behind the door, my heart hammering. When she pushes the bathroom door open, I kick it hard into her face. She yells in pain, her hands on her nose, and I bolt out. For a split second, I think I’m free, but a sharp pain in my scalp blinds me as I am yanked back by the hair. I’m on the floor, twisting around, blood dripping from her nose and onto my face. I’m clawing at her hands, her wrists. “Let me go!”

She drags me back by the hair. “You said you were leaving the house to go to Meredith,” she says in a voice like I haven’t heard before. It’s lower in pitch and thick with hate and spite. “That’s what you told me. You told me you were gone. So why are you here, Jodie?”

“I went to the bathroom!” I cry.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” she says. “For you, I mean. I was having a little fun, but now you’ve seen me, so… She hovers on all fo urs on top of me.

“I was going to get away with it, too, thanks to that thumb drive. So what am I supposed to do now, Jodie?”

I manage to knee her in the chest and she falls backward, crying out in pain. I crawl away on all fours. “You’re insane.”

“Oh, please. Look who’s talking. Get back here.”

I scramble to get away from her. Fortunately, the enormous wedding dress with all its layers slows her down so that she walks one step at a time, unlike me who is tumbling, running, and flying all at once.

She’s on the landing now, smoothing down the dress. It’s dotted with drops of blood. Her face is smeared with it.

I consider running outside and calling for help, but then what? I’m the one who broke her nose. With my luck lately, I’ll be the one they’ll put in handcuffs.

So I run like hell down the hall, bolt into Roy’s office and slam the door. I turn the key in the lock, my body braced against the door.

She rattles the handle. “Open the door, Jodie!”

“I’m calling the police.”

“You can’t. I have your cell phone.”

She’s right. I left it on my dresser. She probably has it now.

“Come on, Jodie, get out of there and let’s talk.”

I don’t reply. I’m trying to think. She slams both hands against the door.

“Come on. What’s the point? You’ll have to come out eventually.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to talk. That’s all.”

“Then what?”

“Then…how about this? You just move along, back to the little he llhole you came from, whatever that is, and we call it square. Leave me and Roy to get on with our lives.”

“You’re in love with him,” I say, realization dawning.

“It’s my turn now. I’ve been waiting for him for years, Jodie. First Deborah, then you, and now Veronica? I’m better than all of you put together.”

“Why isn’t he with you, then?”

“Because you keep getting in the way,” she hisses through the door hinges. “All of you. He doesn’t know I’m the one for him, but he will. I’m the only one who truly loves him.”

I look around the office for a weapon. There are a couple of possibilities. There’s a bronze bust of some famous psychologist, about ten inches high. It’s not very big, but it’s heavy enough to cause some real damage. Then there’s his father’s clock which has a few sharp corners, and then…

There’s the gun.

“Marie?”

“Yes?”

“If you want Roy, you can have him.”

“Thank you. I wasn’t asking for your permission, but you’re very sweet.”

“And you’ll let me go?”

“Of course! I don’t hold grudges, honey. As long as you leave us alone.”

I hold up the bronze bust over my head with both hands, bring it down, and smash the glass cabinet.

“What’s happened?” she shouts. “What are you doing?” She tries the handle repeatedly. “Open the door, Jodie! ”

I grab the shotgun, fumble with the lever until it’s ready to shoot, then slowly, I turn the key in the lock.