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  Knowing how Peter was about money, she didn't think she could convince him to buy the tickets for the event as well as a dress for her. She, as the dutiful and well-trained wife she was, agreed to the compromise without even discussing the issue and had resigned herself to the fact that she would not be getting a new dress. It had been at least five years since they'd gone anywhere dressed up. Well, that should be, it had been five years since Elizabeth had had a chance to get dressed up. Peter got to attend dinners and functions all the time, mostly when he was out of town. She was always envious of that portion of his career. He got to dress up and socialize, while she was here, with the kids. Even her work functions included kids. She never got to go out and be just Elizabeth. She went to the walk-in closet that they shared and pulled Peter's tux out. It would need to be cleaned, but she was sure she had a coupon for dry cleaning somewhere. She rummaged to the back corner, where her dresses hung in their plastic storage bags. Elizabeth tried all three dresses, and none of them fit. They all hung off of her, looking completely awful. She looked at the tags. They were all size ten or twelve. She frowned. She didn't remember them looking like this. Why were they big? That was her clothing size, wasn't it? She walked out of the closet, and went into the bathroom to weigh herself. One-hundred eighteen pounds. She stepped off the scale and step back on again. One-hundred eighteen. That couldn't be right. When did that happen? The last time she weighed herself, she had been one-hundred thirty-five pounds. She knew she had been depressed lately, and she did not have much of an appetite, but she could not believe that she had lost almost twenty pounds without noticing it. It seemed odd that no one else had noticed or commented on it either. It just showed how no one saw Elizabeth any longer. She didn't even see herself. But nonetheless, she would need a new dress for the gala.

  Her mind started racing, planning. She thought about the dresses she saw stars wearing on the red carpet and in People magazine. In her head, she wanted something slinky, sexy, yet tasteful. She imagined herself looking glamorous and irresistible. Something that would make people take notice of her for once. She wondered what kind of style she would be able to pull off with her slimmer figure. She was standing there, in just her bra and underwear (those sensible pale pink cotton panties) when Peter came into the bedroom. He had already packed his bags for his trip in the morning. Peter took his work clothes off and tossed them on the floor in the bathroom. He put his sweatpants on and started to head out of the bedroom. Elizabeth was still standing there, in her bra and underwear. "I'd like to get a new dress." Elizabeth called anxiously, hoping he would stop and come back to the bedroom. She didn't know why she should feel nervous around her husband, but she was. It was if she were a teenager again, asking some boy to prom. She leaned against the doorway with one arm up, trying to be seductive. She hated having to ask permission to buy a dress, but Peter scrutinized the credit card bill with a fine tooth comb each month to track her spending. Her spending of "his money" that is. A large purchase like a dress, without prior approval, would lead to a big fight. Another one.

  Peter turned around in the doorway, "Why do you need a new dress? You have a closet full of clothes."

  Elizabeth dropped her pose and looked at her feet, "Well, um, none of them seem to fit anymore."

  "You look fine," he said, seeing through her, but not seeing her. He didn't even seem to notice that she had no clothing on. He certainly didn't see the prominence of her cheekbones, the definition of her collar bones, or the front of her pelvic bones that used to be hidden under soft flesh. This was the issue. He didn't see her.

  And with that, he went downstairs, and fell asleep on the couch watching baseball. Elizabeth felt like crying herself to sleep but was too numb and dead on the inside to muster up the energy. She read a few pages of a smutty romance on her e-reader and fell asleep, with her hand caressing herself. Peter was gone in the morning when she got up.

  CHAPTER TWO: October 12, 2010

  Elizabeth sat staring at her e-mail. She was on her lunch break, which should have been thirty minutes, was down to twenty because one of her students had had a meltdown and was not able to transition to gym. She had been putting off answering the e-mail for a week, but now her time was running out before the Friday night event. It was already Wednesday. She tried to convince herself that the last thing she wanted to do was go to a stupid home party, in the middle of nowhere, no less. But she hadn't seen Susan in more than two years, since she had taken another job and moved closer to her hometown.

  Susan had been Elizabeth's closest friend and confidante, almost from the moment they started teaching together. Elizabeth had cherished the time that she and Susan had spent together, in and out of the classroom. They worked together seamlessly, teaching the preschoolers. Elizabeth had never had that comfort level with any of Susan's replacements, especially not her current one, Michele. Elizabeth tried not to think about how much she missed Susan, and how not seeing her left a large void in her heart. Susan had been a trusted friend, almost like a sister, and they were able to unload on each other. They laughed through their problems.

  Since Susan had left, Elizabeth closed herself off. The mothers in the PTA were acquaintances, but not trusted friends. Elizabeth knew that walling off her heart and soul was a bad move, but it was easier than having to go through losing another friend. It left her alone, and, if she cared to admit it, depressed. Now, Susan was inviting her to hang out with a bunch of hens, and stay overnight, since there was bound to be wine, and Susan lived almost two hours away. Elizabeth's first instinct was to refuse. That was her M.O. these days, refusal. She worked; she took care of the kids. She took care of the house and ran the errands. She passed each day, minute by minute, hour by hour. It was her shield of armor, protecting her from the outside world. It did not, however, protect her from herself. She was in neither the mood nor the condition to be social with a bunch of people she didn't know. But she needed to see Susan. She needed to vent and laugh and drink her troubles away, if only for one night. If she didn't have some kind of release soon, she would explode. Or implode. Or do something terrible and stupid. Elizabeth knew she needed this.

  Peter was still away. His weeklong trip had extended and continued longer than expected, but that was his M.O. these days. The week that loomed ahead was just as hectic as the past one had been. She was constantly running the kids to and fro. There was never enough time to get anything done, other than to sit and wait. And think about the state of her life. She was trying not to do that these days. She was trying not to think about how lonely she was. She was trying not to think about how she had only talked to Peter three times in ten days. Elizabeth realized how empty she felt, but didn't know what to do about it. She tried making a snide comment to him last night on the phone—one of the rare times that he called—but he ignored her. He disconnected abruptly after that. She was not sure if he had hung up on her or was disconnected. She wished she could slam the phone down, but instead angrily turned the phone off. Damn modern technology.

  She immersed herself in reading romantic novels, but somehow that made her more depressed. Her own husband was not a romantic. In fact, he was anti-romantic. Even when she asked him point blank, he would not identify any characteristics that he loved about Elizabeth. She liked to think that Peter just had difficulty expressing himself, but deep down she thought he really just didn't love her. She wasn't sure if he ever had. She had difficulty remembering back to those initial feelings of infatuation and all-consuming love. And she was the one in the relationship with the good memory. If she could not remember what it felt like, then Peter, who every so often forgot the street he lived on, had no hope of remembering what he probably once loved about his spouse. She guessed that was why they did not talk. Other than the children, they had nothing in common anymore.

  She started to reply to Susan, declining her polite invitation to get away. And then it occurred to Elizabeth– this might be her only chance to get a break, even for eighteen hours. To laugh again.
It might be enough to pull her out of her depression. Elizabeth quickly picked up her cell phone and called her mother.

  "What's wrong?" No greeting, no hello. Her mother always expected the worst.

  "Hi Mom, nothing's wrong."

  "Is Teddy all right? Is his stomach still upset? Did you call the doctor? My co-worker's cousin's daughter's friend's child thought she had the stomach bug. Turns out it was a large tumor. What did the doctor say?"

  Elizabeth clenched her jaw and pinched her eyes shut. This was typical. It was a large part of why she didn't call her mother more often. "Teddy's fine. It turns out he had eaten a large snack at school before he came home and didn't tell me, so I gave him his regular snack and then dinner. He just ate too much."

  "Did he have a lot of sugar at school? That can do it, you know. All that sugar on the cakes and cookies is not good for kids. It makes them hyper."

  "No, Mom. They only allow healthy snacks at school. You know we're not allowed to send in cupcakes or cookies." Elizabeth neglected to mention that Teddy's after-school snack had been a bakery cupcake with about three inches of frosting. Elizabeth hated that school took all the fun out of being a kid and that birthday treats were now limited to watermelon stars and carrot kabobs. "I'm sure he just ate too much too quickly yesterday."

  "Are you sure? Did you feel his belly?"

  "No, Mom, I didn't, but he's fine today. He ate a really good breakfast. I think he might be going through a growth spurt."

  "Do his legs hurt? My legs always caused me terrible pain when I was growing, and you know how much Teddy takes after me."

  Elizabeth clenched her hand into a fist. She wanted to punch something. "No, Mom, his legs are fine."

  "Okay, well I'll let you go then."

  "No, Mom, WAIT—I need to ask you something."

  Agnes sighed, obviously exasperated for not being let off the phone. "What is it? You know I'm busy here." Agnes worked for an insurance agent. She felt that the office could not run without her constant micromanagement, and that the entire insurance industry would collapse if she took a day off.

  "Yes, Mom, I know how important your work is. I was wondering if there would be any way that you could take Teddy and Sydney Friday after school until Saturday?"

  "Why?"

  That was the thing about asking her mother for a favor—there were always conditions. She could never just say yes. She always had to know the details and then would make her decision based on whether it was something of value to Agnes. And the excuse of "getting a break" was not an acceptable excuse. After all, as Agnes frequently reminded Elizabeth, she never got a break when Elizabeth was growing up. Elizabeth had tried reminding her mother at one point that Agnes did not return to work until Elizabeth was seven years old. Agnes had been a stay-at-home-mom for sixteen years. She had never had to manage a career and young children at the same time.

  "Susan invited me out for the night."

  "I didn’t know that," Agnes said indignantly. Agnes always appeared to take offense when Elizabeth had plans for herself or the family. Even if one of the kids were invited to a birthday party, Agnes reacted as if she had been personally snubbed.

  "Anyway, she's having some home party and thinks I should stay overnight because she lives almost two hours away."

  "You know how I feel about sleepovers."

  Elizabeth bit her tongue. Her jaw throbbed. If she wanted to get away, she could not afford to piss her mother off. "Mother, I am thirty-four years old. I think it is much more responsible to stay overnight than drive about two hours through the mountains after a long work week and a glass or two of wine."

  "Why do you always have to drink?"

  Elizabeth silently counted to ten. Twice. "I just assume there might be wine. It's not like I'm going to go on a bender. It's just, Peter's been gone for two weeks, and I—"

  Agnes interjected sarcastically, "I know, you need a break. That's the problem with your generation, always feeling entitled, acting and not wanting to take responsibility."

  Elizabeth, hackles up, quickly cut in. Her lunch break was running out and she needed to get back into the classroom. "No, I haven't seen Susan in more than two years, and Peter's been gone, and he won’t be back until next week. With his traveling, I'm not sure when I would have this chance again. Remember when Nina moved away?"

  "Yes, of course. How could I forget? She was my best friend since high school. What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Think about how much you miss Nina. I miss Susan the same way, and would love this chance to catch up with her. Plus, you haven't seen Teddy or Syd in two weeks. It would be great to hang out with them. They don't have anything scheduled on Saturday morning for once, so you can relax, sleep in, and not have to rush out."

  "I guess. You just know how tired I am by the end of the week."

  Yup, Elizabeth thought. Her mother was tired. Elizabeth was thirty-four-years-old and was so weary she wasn't sure she'd make it through the day. Elizabeth prayed silently while her mother kept her dangling.

  "Okay, I guess I can take the kids. When will you drop them off?"

  "I was kind of hoping that you could pick them up from school at 3:30, so that I could get on the road. It’s almost two hours up there, not counting after-school traffic, and I want to get up there before it gets dark."

  Agnes sighed. "You know that means I'll have to take an hour off of work, don't you?"

  "I'm pretty sure you have the time banked, don't you?"

  "You know I'm saving the time in case something happens and I need to take lots of time off. But I guess I can work through lunch and then be out to pick the kids up. What time?"

  "3:30." The same as it had been for the last two years.

  "So when will you be back? I'll bring them by your house around two on Saturday." Elizabeth shook her head. She just couldn't seem to get a break. She had hoped her mother would offer to take the kids for two nights and give her some time to herself. Now she would have to rush back from Susan's. At least it was a small break. She supposed she should be thankful for any scrap of relief that was tossed her way.

  "Fine, I'll be back by then. Thanks, Mom."

  Her mother hung up without saying good-bye, which was her normal. Her phone manners were brusque and lacking. Elizabeth was not sure how she did her job with those phone skills, but she had worked for the same agent for twenty-seven years now. Either the agent was fine with the job she did, or was too scared of Agnes to fire her. Elizabeth thought it was probably the latter.

  Growing up under the careful eye of Agnes was no easy feat. Elizabeth was a surprise child for Agnes and Thomas. She had an older brother, who apparently never did any wrong. He was nine years older than Elizabeth and had moved out when he joined the service at the age of eighteen. Elizabeth heard from him a few times each year, but it was better now that there was e-mail and Facebook. He had enlisted straight out of high school but was recommended for Officer's Training School, and had made a career out of the Air Force. Now in his mid-forties, he had circled the globe several times without settling down, like the subject of a Jimmy Buffet song. He never came home for longer than a few days at a time. Agnes worried herself sick about the life that T.J. was living, and, as a result, attempted to manage every single iota of Elizabeth's life.

  Elizabeth resented the control, and strained against the tight reins her mother held. As a child, she was stubborn. Her mother's strategy for management was to knock Elizabeth down a peg or two or ten, so that she had no belief in herself. By the time Elizabeth made it through the awkward teen years, she was shy and reserved, and barely possessed enough confidence to walk into a room with a friend, let alone by herself. After Elizabeth's heart was broken for the first time, she would have sworn that Agnes was secretly delighted. She never let Elizabeth forget how bad her taste in boys was and, as a result, how poorly she had been treated. In college, she took to binge drinking (although she just called it being social) to help her come out of her shell. P
redictably, drinking was not a terribly successful strategy in helping Elizabeth feel good about herself. Sloppy drunk kisses and a few one-night stands did not do a lot to convince Elizabeth that she was special and worthwhile. And now, at thirty-four years of age, married with two children, Elizabeth felt like she was still a young teenager in her mother's eyes. She yearned for a balanced relationship with her mother, one that was not about control. She could dissect her messed up relationship with her mother later. Her lunch break ended as the children thundered back into the classroom. She would have to e-mail Susan back before she left for the day. Elizabeth popped a few grapes into her mouth. It was all she had been able to eat. No wonder she had lost weight.

  Elizabeth groaned inwardly at the irony facing her. She was getting away, getting a break. Going off duty. But in order to do that, her workload would triple. She could do it. Having that carrot dangling in front of her, Elizabeth silently soldiered on. Her mood elevation, small as it was, did not last. It was one of those weeks (yet another one), where there were several events at school. She had volunteered to work the book fair Wednesday night, but now, since Peter was not home, she had to either back out or bring the kids. Since she hated to leave the PTA short-handed, she showed up, harried as usual, with both kids in tow. She had run home after school and thrown laundry in, so she had clean clothes to pack for the kids. By the time she made supper and helped the kids with their homework, it was time to go back to school. Elizabeth did not have time to change her clothes and was her typical, end-of-the-day disheveled self. On the way to school, Elizabeth reminded the children that they could only spend ten dollars on books, as it was all Elizabeth had left in her "spending" money for the week. She tried to keep cash on her for things like this, as Peter would not understand this "frivolity." She could hear him yelling, "Don't these kids go to the library anymore?" He didn't understand about supporting the PTA. He didn't know what it meant.