...the last of the breakfast dishes when the doorbell rang. She could still hear the muffled sound of the shower and for a second wasn’t sure what to do. She decided she better see who it was: if it was someone selling water heaters or salvation she’d politely send them on their way; if it was a neighbour or someone Steve knew, she could take a message. She dropped the dish towel on the counter and headed downstairs.
At the door, she took a quick look in the mirror hanging on the vestibule wall. She was barefoot, wearing jeans and a black Sweat Crew sports bra – perfectly ok to wear as a top - no makeup; she tugged, and finger combed her hair and decided she was minimally presentable. She turned and opened the door.
A woman, about three inches taller than her, with long hair almost as black as hers, stared at her from clear, icy blue eyes. She was wearing a short, floral print summer dress and sandals. Carefully applied mascara darkened and lengthened her eye-lashes; her lips were a pastel pink.
With a jolt, Kelly realized who this woman was: Laura McGregor.
Laura looked Kelly up and down and with a raised eyebrow said, “I’m here to see my husband.”
Kelly’s mind was a tumult: she had been completely unprepared to come face to face with this woman; it didn’t matter that Steve was her ex-husband, she had the irrational feeling of being caught in flagrante delicto with another woman’s husband; she looked and felt like she’d just rolled out of bed compared to this put together woman who was clearly judging her and finding her wanting; the description of the dissolution of their marriage as Steve had described it blazed into her mind. And what would poor Steve’s reaction be to seeing her on his doorstep? She looked back over her shoulder, up the stairs expecting to see him there.
“Will you let him know I’m here, please?”
Laura’s voice had an impatient, imperious tone. Kelly felt she may be over-reacting, but it almost sounded as if she were being addressed as a maid or servant.
She looked back at Laura, who was still regarding her with a raised eyebrow, and was at a loss what to do.
She fell back on the comfort of manners and the veneer of civility they provided.
“Won’t you please come in?”
She almost referred to her as ‘Mrs. McGregor’ but caught herself. “I’ll let Steve know you’re here.”
Kelly stepped aside to allow Laura to cross the threshold, and then closed the door behind her. She turned and started up the stairs and was dismayed to hear Laura’s sandals clomping up the stairs behind her. Laura either hadn’t understood or didn’t care that Kelly had meant for her to remain in the vestibule. And a visitor to a Chinese home would never wear her shoes inside but would slip them off at the door, and this gross lapse of manners competed with the brewing emotional storm for the focus of Kelly’s anxiety.
At the top of the stairs, Kelly decided she had better deposit Laura in the kitchen lest she continue to follow her up to the third floor and into the bathroom where Steve was taking a shower. The image of that was both horrific and funny and Kelly had to stifle a nervous laugh.
At the top of the stairs, she turned and headed into the kitchen, with Laura on her heels.
“Won’t you please sit down?” Kelly said, indicating the breakfast nook, and Laura sat, with her back straight, in supercilious elegance. She looked all around the kitchen, pausing here and there, and in spite of the kitchen being clean and tidy Kelly could feel herself being judged.
Again, Kelly sought refuge in manners. “Would you care for some tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Her Chinese manners were again grated upon by this woman’s boldness and failure to respond with an initial polite refusal.
Regretting having made the offer, but now obligated to follow through, she turned and went through the ritual of preparing tea – for the woman who had caused immeasurable suffering for the man she loved – or had become very fond of – or whatever it was she felt. At least this way, Kelly could keep Laura penned in the kitchen and not go wandering up the stairs to take Steve by shocked surprise – but she would have no opportunity to go to Steve first and warn him.
Kelly set the kettle to boil, and opened the cupboard where Steve kept his cups and pulled one out and set it on the counter. As she was closing the cupboard door it occurred to her that even though she’d already had tea and didn’t want anymore, the optics troubled her: if she placed only a cup for Laura on the table, she would be waiting on her, serving her; she took down a second cup in order to share the tea with her, as a good hostess, not a maid.
When the water had boiled, Kelly dropped two tea bags into the pot, poured in water, and brought the pot to the table. Laura watched her and said nothing. She then brought the two cups to the table, then a little China jug she filled with milk, and sat down opposite Laura. Laura’s smile was like a happy face, drawn on a frosty pane of glass.
Kelly couldn’t think of a single thing to say; Laura spoke.
“So, have you been with my husband long?”
You mean your ex-husband, Kelly thought. It was possible she was reading too much into it, but she felt as though the woman had carefully chosen her words for their ambiguity: had she been romantically involved with him for long; or, had she been in his employ for long? It occurred to Kelly that in her confusion, she hadn’t properly introduced herself, so she might be partly to blame for Laura’s possible misinterpretation of her role in Steve’s house.
“I’m Kelly,” she said, then realized that her introduction had done nothing to clarify anything. She thought of adding, ‘Steve’s girlfriend’, then thought, why should she have to clarify anything to this woman? She didn’t owe her any kind of explanation.
Laura offered a small, patronizing smile – and didn’t reciprocate by introducing herself by name. Kelly became aware that her jaw was clenched and consciously relaxed it.
“Would the tea be steeped?” Laura asked, in a tone that made the question a nasty euphemism for Kelly’s incompetence as a hostess – or servant.
It was Kelly’s turn to give a disingenuous smile, and she poured Laura’s tea, then her own. “Would you care for milk?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
With the same smile of a moment ago, Kelly slid the jug across the table to Laura. She could goddam well pour her own milk.
The sound of Steve’s footsteps on the stairs caused Laura to glance over her shoulder and to fill Kelly with dread at what his reaction would be to be seeing his ex-wife, seated at his kitchen table. The very few times he had spoken about her, his face had taken on a haunted quality, with his brow knit, and his lips pursed. She profoundly regretted not closing the door in Laura’s face, to wait on the welcome mat so Steve could deal with her at the door. Instead, she had invited, possibly the last person on earth Steve would want to see, into his kitchen where she was now comfortably seated.
Steve strode into the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower, wearing only jeans, zipped up, but with the top button undone. Incongruous to the situation Kelly noted how incredibly sexy he looked. He slowed, and his face grew wary as he spied Laura from behind and a moment later he saw her face as he came to the table and stopped and took a step back as though jolted. His face was ashen.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Laura sat ostensibly composed but Kelly had seen a flicker of unease in her clear blue eyes.
“Hello, Steve.”
“Wh—” Steve started to say what was she doing here? Then, “H—" How had she gotten in?
Steve’s wide eyes moved to Kelly. She winced and mouthed, “Sorry…”
Steve quickly got over his shock and assumed a fortified posture, ready to repel any challenge his ex-wife might offer.
“Why are you here, Laura?”
Laura made a pretense of looking around. “You have a very nice place, Steve.”
“What do you want, Laura?”
Kelly felt helpless and guilty and intensely uncomfortable in this excruciatingly awkward situation.
“Maybe I should leave,” she said.
Laura looked at her. “Thank you for the tea,” she said, in dismissal of her.
Steve sat heavily beside Kelly, effectively blocking any exit. He regarded Laura as though she were a wild animal, who might strike at any moment.
Laura smiled sociably. “Well, I’m glad to see you’ve brought in some help, Steve. I’ve been worried about you.”
Then she turned to Kelly. “And I’m sure my husband’s making good use of you.”
Anger rose in Kelly like molten lava, lifting her out of her seat.
She felt Steve’s grip on her forearm, pulling her back down.
“Say whatever it is you came here to say, Laura. You’ve got ten seconds.”
“I was hoping we could speak in private, Steve.” She indicated Kelly with her head. “I thought she was leaving.”
“She – Kelly – isn’t leaving. You are.”
Steve stood.
Laura gave him a pouty, up from under look. “But, I haven’t finished my tea.”
Steve picked up her cup, stepped over and splashed the contents in and around the sink, then plunked the cup down on the counter.
“Tea time’s over. Good-bye Laura.”
He stood, staring her down. With exaggerated nonchalance, Laura slid over on the breakfast nook bench, and stood. She smiled at Steve, then turned and walked toward the kitchen doorway. She paused there and looked back at Kelly.
Kelly picked up her cup and met Laura’s icy eyes over the rim as she sipped her tea. Her expression said, tea time’s over for you, bitch. But, not for me.
Laura’s vicious answering expression indicated that she had understood perfectly. She turned and walked to the stairs, with Steve right behind her.
It occurred to Kelly that she had never in her life addressed a woman as ‘bitch’, and rarely even silently as she had just now; but, it had been appropriate – and incredibly satisfying.
Kelly got up and went to the counter to wipe up the splashed tea and listened to their arrhythmic footsteps clomping down the stairs; she expected to hear the door slam behind Laura as she was expelled, but instead, after a moment of quiet, she heard Steve climbing back up the stairs.
When he reappeared in the kitchen doorway, his face looked haggard and shaken. She was awestruck by the effect Laura’s mere presence had had on Steve and she could only imagine what those terrible months at the end of their marriage must have been like for him.
She went to him and took his hand.
“Steve, I’m so sorry for letting her in. I was taken completely by surprise and the next thing I knew she was sitting at the table.”
“It’s alright Kelly, it’s not your fault.” He looked off, his face set in concentration.
“What could she be up to now?” he thought aloud.
He looked at Kelly. “It was good that you were here, Kelly. If she had been planning some kind of ambush, to get me alone so she could accuse me of abuse and try to get a court order for full custody of the kids, you would have been a witness. But, I have no idea what her motives were in coming here.”
Kelly also wondered. She tried to reconcile her brief, troubling face-to-face encounter with Laura, with what Steve had said about her. Laura appeared to have some kind of ulterior motive, but she didn’t seem angry or aggressive toward Steve – maybe because Kelly had been there to witness, as Steve had said. But, why would Laura be so bothered by Kelly’s being there? Why should she care if Steve had someone with him? Or, was she just being nasty to Kelly as a way of pissing Steve off?
Steve placed a hand on the back of his head, clearly trying to puzzle it out. Then shook his head and said, “Who cares. I’m not going to let her, and whatever bullshit she’s trying to stir up, ruin our Sunday.”
Replaying the brief, strange encounter in her mind, Kelly was puzzled about the way Laura had referred to Steve.
“Steve, why do you suppose she called you her ‘husband’ and not her ‘ex-husband’?”
“Did she?” he said. “I didn’t notice. Well, we’re divorced; I have the documentation and scar tissue to prove it. Remember, she’s frequently delusional.”
Kelly wondered. Laura hadn’t seemed delusional – nasty, yes, but lucid nevertheless.
He smiled at her. “Ready to go?”
Kelly marvelled at Steve’s ability to just shake this upset off. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Can I take a minute and finish getting ready?”
“You look perfect, let’s go.”
He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her.
“Thank you,” Kelly said. “But, I need one minute – or maybe, two.”
“Okay,” he said, and released her.
“You might give some thought to putting on a shirt,” Kelly said.
He glanced down at his bare torso.
“Oh, yeah, right. I guess I should.”
“Not for me, you understand. I don’t mind. But, the crowd of women that would gather around us would just slow us down.”
“Well, yes, there is that.”
He was right back to himself, kidding with her, and again she marvelled at his resiliency. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.
“I’ve got work to do,” she said, and headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her little bag of beauty secrets.
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