How nice it must be for Carolyn to have some sense of independence. Margaret couldn’t even imagine what that felt like.
“Darlin’， that is lovely on you.” The saleswoman came barreling into the dressing area. “It looks like couture, made just for you!”
Margaret recoiled. “Oh, I don’t know.” She used to love the attention, but now, she knew it was all lies and flattery to convince her to buy something she couldn’t even afford.
“It’s perfect on you. Don’t you think, girls?” Her friends nodded their heads in violent agreement. “And, you know, boxy jackets are very chic right now. We have a lovely one with a fur trim that would be perfect for this dress. In case you ever need to be a bit more modest.” She winked. “Let me run and grab it.”
Once again, a deep melancholy engulfed Margaret. Who did she think she was? She couldn’t afford a fur-trimmed jacket. They now had three children to feed. And the Tupperware had been a disaster. She felt the tears welling up again and knew she wouldn’t be able to stop them. “Get me out of this thing. I need to get this off.” The tears started coming fast, and she tilted herself forward so that they would land on the carpet instead of the dress. “Please, Lucy, just take it off before I ruin it!”
Lucy had known Margaret since they were ten—she was as close to her as a sister. Still, Margaret was humiliated. When did the head cheerleader, who had climbed to the top of the three-tier tower of bodies, become the mess of a housewife who had to be cleaned up by her best friend?
“Okay, honey, okay. Let’s just go back into the dressing room.” Lucy gave her a nudge inside the safety of the closed cubby as she unzipped the dress and delicately placed it back on the hanger. Then she turned to her friend, who was sobbing now, and took her in her arms. “How can I help, Mags? How can I help?” she whispered into her hair.
Margaret just shook her head no. There was nothing anyone could do.
“You know, Maggie,” Carolyn said from outside the door. “I read an article in Better Homes and Gardens about the ‘baby blues.’ It said you need to get out on your own. Have a few hours a day away from the baby. That’s why we thought this shopping trip would help.”
It seemed like there wasn’t anything in the world that made her feel better. Her life was now a series of battles to fight off the darkest moments and try to put on a good face. “I know you are trying. And I appreciate it,” she said in between sobs. “But . . .”
“This was probably too much in one day. William is only six months old. Let’s go home. Maggie, I am sure you have something in your closet already that will look just as stunning on you!”
Margaret nodded appreciatively as she tried to wipe away the unrelenting tears.
“Oooh, yes! And I can do your makeup to complement your outfit. I have loads of samples you can take for free! C’mon, let’s go before that bossy saleslady comes back!”
Margaret gathered herself and, feeling both defeated and grateful, left the store with her friends to return back to the safe, suffocating world of her home.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Copacabana was even more extravagant than Margaret had imagined, and she felt awestruck as she and Frank entered. No wonder this place was almost impossible to get into.
As they arrived at their table, she could hardly focus her eyes, dazed by the phantasmagoria of Brazil all around her. The horns and the drums of the lively Latin band, the Copa girls twirling on stage in sparkling headpieces, the enormous fake palm trees—ten feet at least—creating the feeling of a party in a tropical paradise.
Frank gave Margaret an adoring once-over. “Pretty incredible.” He beamed.
“Yes, it is.” Margaret was so overwhelmed and grateful that he had brought her here that she felt almost unable to speak.