Page 70 of The Husband Diet
‘It’s just that I had breakfast this morning, you see.’Thump,thump.
I sighed. Something told me this was going to be a long day. ‘Yes?’
‘And by mistake…’Thump,thump. ‘I had regular coffee.’
‘Right.’
‘But I can only drink decaf… becausethis’—thump,thump—‘is what it does to me!’
‘It makes you want to test all the mattresses you sleep in?’ I couldn’t help saying.
‘It charges me with this nervous adrenaline!’Thump. ‘And this is the only way I can get rid of the caffeine in my system!’Thump,thump,thump.
The way I saw it, I had two alternatives. Either shoot him down or let him deal with it as he thought best. He wasn’t doing anyone any harm, only trying to flush something out of his system. I made a mental note to make sure the bed was OK once he’d checked out. And maybe even try it myself. It looked like fun. I smiled and left him to deal with it his own way.
*
I wanted to call Julian, to tell him about the crazy man. I picked up the phone, knowing (or at least hoping) I was one of the few mothers who had his personal number. And then I put the phone back down.
If I called him, it would only mean one thing. Let’s pick up where we left off. Wasn’t my life complicated enough?Hell, no. Even if I was still the betrayed wife, part of me demanded the right to be myself, but only with a little more enjoyment, a tiny moment for Erica Cantelli, if not downright, every now and then, fun.
Besides, how long could straw lie next to a burning fire before it burst into flames again? How could I resist a possible round three?
26
Love Stinks
I was diligently working away on my laptop, grateful that we were having a quiet day at The Farthington. As my mind began to wander to what I’d be cooking that evening, I became aware of a low buzzing sound, like a cellphone alarm vibrating. I looked around me, but all was normal. The noise became louder until I found myself investigating in the front office, where I almost fainted dead away.
At the center of our posh gilded reception, surrounded in a circle created by our elegantly dressed and distinguished guests, was no less than a catfight.
Dr. Hendricks and Dr. White, both blonde and Barbie-doll-like, were rolling on the plush carpeting, in a swirl of yellow-and-turquoise designer suits, pulling on each other’s hair while grunting and squealing. The same ones, as far as I could tell, I’d secretly envied the day before, all immaculately dressed in their labels. The kind who had made me feel like the big fat toad in the fairytale – ugly and unwanted.
And now dresses rode high over thighs, exposing lacy and fleshy bits. And I’d wanted to be like them, thinking they’d looked like supermodels. And you wouldn’t believe the language. Some people you can’t take the trash out of, degree or no degree.
But the horrific part was that no one was intervening. The busboys and the rest of the male staff watched in admiration as these two ‘ladies’ clawed at each other, pushing the other’s chin back, scratching each other’s eyes out, not to mention uprooting clumps of peroxide blonde hair.
I wrung my hands. I’d never been so ashamed of my gender in all my life.
‘Call security!’ I hissed to Lesley, my main receptionist, who, wide-eyed, scurried toward the phone.
‘I’ll teach you to steal my man!’ the yellow Barbie said to the turquoise one.
‘He’s not your man – he can’t stand you!’
Oh, God. If all these people were doctors, brain surgeons and shrinks, what hope did the rest of us have? It was too much. I couldn’t wait for security to get off their fat asses while these two women destroyed what I represented.
Without thinking, I ran over to them, trying to part them, but only managed to get my eye punched and my cheek scratched. It was like having an enraged lion swiping at you with French manicured claws. I licked my lips and tasted blood on my face.
Now if I’d been anywhere else and not on the job, I’d have lost it like a bull taunted by a red cape and licked them real good, but being in my position, I had to carry myself gracefully, whatever the situation. So I smothered a few of my own foul four-letter faves and ran to the corner of the hall, where I grabbed one of the fire extinguishers and let them have it – the whole damned thing.
As the foam started to envelop them, they squealed, trying to get up, but slipped, over and over, clutching at the floor, losing their shoes in the process, as if they’d stepped into a giant cake. Their hair, make-up and clothes were one humongous mess. When they finally desisted, I watched them, my chest heaving from the exertion (they should make these contraptions a bit easier to handle), my eyes shooting daggers.
‘Get someone to clean this mess up,’ I said to Lindsay and turned, glad to have put the scene behind me. ‘And bill them for the damages.’
The hilarious part, if there was any, was that the guy in question hadn’t even stepped forward to split them up. I’m sure he was here, because everybody else sure was, cheering them on. In my posh hotel.
After having written a personal report about the incident and emailed it to Mr. Farthington, I called it a day. I was, after all, working only until three now.
