Draw down the moon, p.7
Draw Down the Moon, page 7
He took a glass and poured ice water from the outlet on the fridge door, posing so all could admire his form. He was one of the fittest people I knew, not an ounce of fat on his body. His frame, although not large, was tight and wiry with muscle. He threw himself into any new sport that came along – biking, running, yoga. Any sport, that is, that allowed him to wear Lycra in public.
‘Selena, wow, that woman can give me a run for my money, I tell you.’ He drank deeply and thirstily.
I could feel Claudia’s eyes on my back at the mention of his sporting partner. I scrubbed at the clean sink. It was one thing for me to suspect my husband’s starting. It was another for it to be so obvious to my kids. In my mind, I argued against the possibility. He was older than Selena. Derek was laden down with a frumpy wife and kids and all the debt that comes with that, he wasn’t free to live the entitled lifestyle she followed. Surely Derek would have no attraction for her. She was too smart for that.
Derek would be much more likely to go after his impressionable young female students. Like I had been myself, once upon a time.
I wrung out the dishcloth and hung it up out of sight beneath the sink, casting my mind back to those early days. I’d taken a Philosophy class from him in my last year of university. Descartes. Derek had been furiously climbing the tenure ladder with the same vigor he now put into staying fit. I had been naive and flattered with his attentions, believing every word that dripped from his intelligent mouth.
‘Selena’s excited that you’ll be going tomorrow night,’ he observed. ‘And yes, apparently it is women only.’
‘I already told you that.’ My jaw was set, the words barely escaping through my clenched teeth.
Selena was going to the meeting? I should have known. Perfect Selena had to be everywhere, didn’t she? I took the broom out of its closet and began to sweep the floor, coming dangerously near to Max’s feet. He opened his mouth to object, but he saw the way the wind was blowing. He quickly shuffled off out of my way, taking his supper with him to retreat into the quiet of the den.
‘She says...’ But Derek could go no further because I whirled around and cut him off, brandishing the broomstick as I did so.
‘I don’t give a damn what Selena says!’
His eyes widened in alarm and he stepped back a pace. ‘There’s no need to go off the deep end,’ he said, highly offended and seizing the moral high ground. His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re starting your period again, aren’t you? You know you can take estrogen replacement therapy? You don’t have to take your menopausal hormonal imbalances out on me.’
And he had the nerve to roll his eyes. That did it.
‘It’s perimenopause, idiot! If it was menopause, I wouldn’t be having periods, now would I?’
Claudia slunk quietly out of the room, following her brother, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. ‘I tell you how I’m feeling, and you belittle it, putting it all down to hormones?’
The heat rose up my spine again and I cursed silently to myself, another frigging hot flash on its way. I took off my work blazer that I was still wearing, in an attempt to stem the tide.
‘Look at yourself!’ He swung his hands out and the water splashed out of the glass and he barely even noticed. ‘You’re being unreasonable, irrational. Get yourself together, you’re scaring the kids.’
‘I’m being unreasonable? You keep harping on and on about Selena this, Selena that. Why don’t you just move in with Selena? See how much she likes you when she has to pick up after you continuously.’
His eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped. ‘You don’t think... Oh my God, you think I’m having an affair with her? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard yet.’ He shook his head, and stepped in the water he’d just spilled. ‘And how can you say I don’t clean up after myself?’
He grabbed Bel’s cheery red dishtowel off the stove handle and tossed it on the floor over the wet, using his foot to scrub it around.
‘Don’t use that one!’ I practically screamed as I dove down and pulled the cloth out from under his foot. The heat had taken hold of my body, all I could feel was the prickliness surging through me, and perhaps I pulled harder than I meant to, causing him to stumble against the counter and bang his hip against its cold stone edge.
I held up the crumpled gift from my best friend, wet and dirty in spots now. ‘This was a present,’ I told him menacingly, shaking it at him.
‘Ow! Jesus, don’t get physical.’ He rubbed his hip bone and winced and looked over at me with a deep anger in his eyes. I took a step back away from him.
‘You are crazy,’ he hissed at me. ‘You need to get hormonal replacement therapy or something, you can’t expect me to live like this. And about tomorrow night – I don’t want you to go to the meeting if you’re going to be nuts and humiliate me. Just don’t go there and embarrass me.’
With that he turned and ostentatiously limped out of the room, going to his private study and banging the door behind him. I let myself down on a kitchen chair, slowly. What the hell had just happened? I had literally pulled the cloth out from under my husband’s feet, hard enough for him to lose his balance and fall against the counter. All for the sake of this pathetic red cloth.
The heat had passed and I again felt the chill in this sparkling white kitchen. My blazer still lay where I’d tossed it onto the counter and missed, and I stretched out to get it, placing it carefully around my shoulders. Then I simply sat there in the midst of the debris left by the storm.
What had really happened just then? I’d caused physical harm. But I had also acted with a strength that was scary because it was so unexpected. And it had felt so good. What was I turning into?
The worst of it was, and it killed me to admit it, but Derek was right. My periods had been irregular lately, and there was probably a real doozy coming up. Sometimes, perhaps, I did get a little sensitive around that time when the smallest ill-worded comment could send me off into paroxysms of tears and grumpiness. I smoothed the dirty, precious linen dish towel against my knee.
Menopausal hot flashes and periods at the same time. Plus teenagers. No one had ever warned me what to expect in the change of life. The subject was never discussed in high school sex education or even on Facebook, as if it was a taboo subject, something to be ignored and submerged and feared.
Or maybe I was going crazy, like Derek said. No wonder they used to burn women at the stake under trumped up charges of witchcraft, if those women began acting the way I had that night.
My face flushed in shame as I remembered the absolute rage, that irrational anger which had taken hold of me. I had let myself go, I’d loosened the ties which held it down, and I hadn’t cared. This was not good.
But on the other hand. It had felt really good.
And one thing was certain. I was going to the meeting the next night precisely because Derek had told me not to. I might even embarrass him if the fancy took me. I knew this was pure spite talking, and it, too, felt good.
***
Nobody spoke to anybody else the next morning, each individual dancing separately around the others as they got ready for their days. Derek did give a pointed sniff as I entered the kitchen and headed straight to the coffee pot, and with that single sniff I understood he was commenting on my behavior last night and my lifestyle choices. He clattered his bowl of granola onto the counter and made a show of pouring his non-dairy, non-fat crap over it.
I made an even bigger show of over-buttering my toast and enjoying it tremendously at the island. I made sure he saw me pack a slice of lemon cake into my lunch bag, and then I even purposefully put only my own dirty plate and glass into the dishwasher, ignoring all others littered in the vicinity.
It was a long day at work. My stomach cramped, my bowels acted up with the stress of it all, and it was as if everyone went out of their way to piss me off. No one complained when I locked myself into my office and refused to attend the meeting on raising staff morale. Even Barry stayed away.
I took an early lunch to go to the doctor’s appointment. She was a new physician in the family practice, still building up her patient base, which was why I hadn’t had to wait weeks for the appointment.
When I finally got in to see her, I explained everything that had been going on in my life. She looked young, barely older than Claudie and Max, but the framed documents on her wall assured me she’d gone through all the grueling years of med school and internship.
She nodded as I spoke.
‘Perimenopause,’ she said decisively, as I’d known she would. ‘And stress.’
She wrote something on her prescription pad, signing her name with a flourish.
Right, she was no doubt prescribing some kind of weight loss treatment. As she ripped the paper off the pad, I opened my mouth to object, but she spoke up before I had a chance.
‘I suggest you take a couple of weeks off work,’ she said. ‘Take the time to go for hikes, relax, take some ‘me’ time.’ She adjusted her glasses. Her eyes were clear and sharp as she looked at me.
‘I can’t do that!’
‘Why? You’re pretty important, and you need to be taken care of. All these things you talked about, they are stress related. Work, family, hormones – all these stressors are finally getting to you. I’m suggesting you remove the stress, and then see if it all clears up, before we start medicating.’
‘But I literally can’t take the time off work.’
‘Is the place going to disintegrate if you’re not there?’
‘No, but… My boss won’t understand…’
‘You tell him to call me, then,’ she replied. ‘My number is right there on the note.’
I walked out of that office with a lighter heart. I knew I would never take her advice, but it felt damn good that someone else recognized what I was going through, that it wasn’t all just in my head. It wasn’t all the fault of me letting myself go. I stuffed the note into the side pocket of my purse and smiled.
Chapter 13
After work, the house was silent, not a soul to be seen, so I snacked on frozen pizza and potato chips, and raided my secret stash of chocolate for dessert. Ralph hadn’t found my new hiding place in the garage yet. I changed into my most comfortable clothes.
And in that rebellious mood I set out for the Academy building downtown, deliberately timing my entrance for exactly five minutes after the appointed hour. I crossed the large classroom. The former banking hall was empty and dark tonight, and I pushed through the heavy oak portal for the very first time.
I was at the bottom of a dimly lit staircase where stone steps stretched forever upwards in a spiral, led on by a graceful carved wood and wrought iron banister. The images in the stained glass windows set at intervals were indecipherable at this time of the evening, mere reflections of the electric sconces. I didn’t pay attention to them as I was already getting out of breath with the exercise, hauling myself up step by step.
Arthur had told me the meeting was held on the top floor. After two such endless flights, the staircase became less fancy, more utilitarian, plain wooden steps now leading up to the single studio beneath the mansard roof, the dormer windows high above the downtown street below. At the very top, I faced another thick door. I waited till my breath came back as I summoned up the courage to enter.
The climb had taken the spite right out of me, and now I was nervous. No, actually, I was terrified. My sole aim in coming there that night had been to piss off Derek, and by now that reasoning appeared weak, not a reason at all to deliberately put myself in this sure-to-be uncomfortable situation of facing Anastasia and Selena.
But just as I lost my nerve and was about to creep back down the stairs, the wooden door opened and it was too late to run away.
The smell of her perfume hit me first, a floral and spicy concoction that made my nose twitch. Anastasia stood in the portal, her arms crossed over a peculiar long dress which glittered in the faint light from the Art Deco sconces on the wall and the reflected dusk coming in through the plain window overlooking the street.
‘Finally,’ she proclaimed. ‘I prefer timeliness in all matters. Next time, be early.’ The ‘r’ sounds rolled off her tongue. I reluctantly walked past her, my heart pulsing in my throat by now, and she shut the door behind us with an ominous thump.
I didn’t know what I’d been anticipating, perhaps a brightly lit room with easels all around with possibly a nude model in the center, and women standing around intellectually drawling on about the finer points of art. But what lay before me challenged all my expectations for the night.
It was a large room, an enormous square which took up almost the entire top floor of the building. Six windows equally spaced, three in the back and three in the front, were all covered with blinds, and the old sconces flickered at intervals around this room. Yet there was another source of light too, a silvery glow which blanketed everything and coated the occupants in an eerie luminescence. It took me a moment to realize this was moonlight, shining down at an angle through a large, retrofitted skylight. I gazed up in wonder at the stars above my head. They looked so close I could almost touch them.
‘Please, have a drink.’
A drink? Perhaps the night wouldn’t turn out to be so awful after all. All the women had a similar glass in their hands so I took the crystal wineglass from Ana’s hand and appreciated the dark fruity red contents. I automatically sipped to cover my nervousness.
And I almost spit it back out again. This was not the quality red wine I’d been expecting, perhaps a merlot, given the dark color of the contents. I had no idea what was in that glass, it didn’t taste like any beverage I’d ever drunk before. It was dark, it was savory yet metallic, almost salty and warm, and nearly as thick as blood. I drew in a breath over my tongue to see if I could discern the afternotes of the liquid, as Derek had taught me, but the only flavor I could find was earth and mushroom. I looked askance at Ana.
She nodded, seeing my reaction. ‘It is an acquired taste, this special wine,’ she said down her snooty nose. ‘The more you drink, the more you will appreciate it.’
I took her at her word and, holding my breath, tossed the rest into my mouth to get it over with. I swished it around a bit before swallowing. The older woman was right, it wasn’t so bad once one was braced for the unfamiliar taste.
‘This is Evie,’ Anastasia announced to the room at large. Her strange dress, almost a muumuu, was black and with glittery stars and moons which danced as she moved in the light, as if to mirror the view from the skylight above our heads. ‘She will be joining us henceforth.’
Henceforth? Unlikely, I thought to myself. I’d only come tonight to piss off my husband, I have no intention of making this a habit. I looked around at the other occupants of the room. Yes, they were all female, women of various ages but mostly around my own age. I recognized most of the faces, and I realized I had no place here in this room.
This was not an advanced art group, no way. There were no easels set up, for one thing. And more importantly, almost all of the women surrounding me were all members of the PFW, the Plastic Faculty Wives, the ones Derek always urged me to be friendly with. The ones I couldn’t stand, with their botoxed faces and toned bodies, the ones who had nothing better to do with their lives but strive for their quest of youthfulness. The bored housewives, the kind that Arthur had mistaken me for the other evening. Christ, was it too late to leave? If I walked out right then, I could save myself and also have the positive effect of embarrassing my husband.
‘Evie, darling, I do hope you’re feeling better today?’ The saccharine sweetness grated like fingernails up my spine, but the face behind the words was all tenderness and concern.
‘Selena,’ I replied, my voice flat. I’d known she would be here, I’d been prepared, but she still put my back up.
‘Derek told me about last night,’ she leaned in as if to confide but her voice carried through the room. ‘I should give you my doctor’s name, she is very understanding about all that stuff. She’ll fix you up with the right dose of estrogen to bring you back to normal.’ She winked. ‘And she’s got some killer diet pills too, I’ve seen them work wonders on others.’
My lips drew back in a pleasant grimace. Fuck off Selena, who may or may not be screwing my husband. Her skinny body was clad in a long glittery gown all covered in metallic gray sequins and showing off her thin arms encased in just the right amount of flattering muscle. Her hair was thick and blonde, so long that I suspected she had extensions. Did the woman think she was still twenty-five years old? It flowed like a straight and shiny river down her back, and her still pert breasts moved freely and untethered beneath the backless gown.
Under a lowered brow, I looked round at all the other woman’s dresses. They were way too formally attired for a women’s art night. Every single one of them was done up to the nines, all silks and showy velvets and lots of cleavage. What the hell was going on there?
I pulled my long cardigan tightly around my body, trying to cover up the muffin-top caused by the too-snug leggings, and I shuffled my feet in their ungraceful sneakers. Anastasia could have at least warned me to dress fancier.
‘We will begin now. Ladies, take your places in the circle,’ Ana’s voice cut through my misery. A door opened on the far side of the room past the entrance to the stairwell and a thrill went through the dozen or so women in the room. I craned her neck to see who they were looking at.
A woman appeared to float into the center of the room. I recognized this face, I’d seen her before at the periphery of my life, perhaps strolling elegantly on a downtown sidewalk, or from the corner of my eye at a faculty do. I’d never before had a name to put to the face, as I’d told Bel.
Tilda-esque. This woman bore an incredible resemblance to the famous movie star in her colder roles, the ice queen of the fairies and elves with her short platinum hair, and her cut-glass cheekbones and perfect flawless skin. Her white gown fell to the floor in folds, almost Greek in its simplicity, showing off her incredibly slim height.
