“I’ll just be a moment,” Carly says.
I lean against one of the vanity counters while she uses the bathroom. While I wait, I stare at myself in the mirror. I realize that I don’t look at myself very often, that I haven’t really looked at myself since my divorce. To be honest, I’ve been afraid that if I looked good and hard, I’d see why Jeremy left me. That if I looked long enough in the mirror I might see why I wasn’t good enough. I’d see the woman that everyone in my hometown sees, the desperate charity case that can’t get a date. I’d see a disappointment.
But in the gardenia-scented, hushed room, I finally gather enough courage to have a good look.
Funny enough, nothing earth-shattering happens. It’s just me, in a horrendously ugly dress, my hair in a messy ponytail, a slightly bemused expression on my face. I stick my tongue out at myself and wrinkle my forehead.
Nothing happens.
I give myself a smile.
Still nothing happens. It’s just me. Slightly older, slightly less sure of myself than I was seven years ago, and slightly more hopeful about my future. Because, this face, the face I see in the mirror, someday, hopefully soon, she’ll have a baby to look down at and love. I’ll make someone laugh, I’ll make someone smile, and they’ll find me beautiful.
At the other end of the powder room, the bathroom stall shuts and Carly comes out. She washes her hands, slowly pats them on the thick paper towels, and then walks to the vanities. When she reaches me she stops. Her face is bone white and her expression is pinched.
“Are you alright?” I ask. She really doesn’t look well.
Her hand shakes as she smooths down a strand of hair. Then she lowers her hand and shrugs. “I’ve started bleeding.”
I pull in a sharp breath, that means…it means she’s not pregnant. Again. Her seventh try failed.
“Carly. I’m so sorry.” I reach out and touch her hand.
She shrugs. “No matter.” Then she gives herself a smile in the mirror. It’s a brilliant, model-worthy smile. In fact, it’s worth the cover of a magazine for how much she shines. But I can see her eyes and they’re as bleak and dry as a desert.
“I’m truly sorry,” I say again.
She turns to me. “Why should you be sorry? Like Brook says, I’m beautiful, I’m rich, I…” She trails off, swallows and tries to continue. “I…” Her lower lip quivers. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Then she stands and walks to a china vase full of flowers. She carefully removes the flowers and sets them on the vanity, takes the vase to the bathroom sink and empties out the water.
She walks back into the lounge area, the large vase cradled in her arms. The delicate blue and white china pattern matches her dress perfectly.
“I’m beautiful. I’m rich. Right?”
I nod. I’m not sure what she needs right now.
“I…shit,” she says. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Then Carly lifts the vase and throws it across the room. It soars through the air, past the vanities, past the bathroom stalls, and smashes against the far wall. The vase shatters in a loud burst and more pieces shatter as they hit the floor.
Carly’s chest heaves and she stares at the broken bits of pottery.
“Shit,” she says again. Then, she looks at me. “Once more.”
“Alright,” I say and I nod.
I grab the vase on the vanity nearest me and hand it to her.
“Thank you.”
Then she sends the vase, water, flowers, everything and flings it. It hits with another loud crash. The pottery shatters and the water and flowers fall down with the shards. Carly stands still, and stares, transfixed by the mess.
Then, like the water spreading over the floor, she closes her eyes and tears fall down her cheeks.
“Carly,” I say.
She shakes her head, so instead of talking I reach over and put my hand on hers.
“He doesn’t love me,” she finally says.
“Who?” I ask, then I realize who she means even before she answers.
“My husband.”
She opens her eyes and gives a scornful laugh. “That was the deal, wasn’t it? I bring the beauty, he brings the money. Feelings had nothing to do with it. But stupid, stupid me, I went and fell in love with him.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
She uses the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her makeup smears and she lets out a sigh. “Love has made my marriage intolerable.”
“I don’t understand.”