The M Word (2 page)

During her next break, she walked to the
lunchroom, a small windowless office equipped with an ancient
microwave, a tiny refrigerator, a table and some plastic chairs.
She casually glanced at the piles of magazines and old newspapers
scattered about. “This place is a mess,” she said with
self-righteous fervor, and started straightening up, which gave her
an excuse to look at each newspaper section before stuffing it in
the trash.

She found the article a few minutes later,
and flattened it out.
Diversity in Dallas
, the headline
read. There were several photos of local immigrants accompanied by
brief bios. For Marius Jaworski, there was a photo of him sitting
at a library table, surrounded by books. “As a student at SMU,
Marius works for the university and tunes pianos, following in the
footsteps of his father and grandfather who tuned pianos in
Poland.”

So he was Polish. She looked at the photo. It
was a good likeness. He wasn't as handsome as Steven, but he did
have a nice smile. A genuine smile.

She skimmed the rest of the paragraph. It
mentioned that his student visa was expiring and ended with the
sentence:
Marius, do you know any nice American girls?

Brenda’s brow furrowed. His immigration
status was none of her concern, but she wished him well. If he did
have to leave the country, she’d miss their pleasant
interactions.

But customers came and went on a regular
basis. It was the nature of the banking business. It was best not
to get emotionally attached to anyone.

She crumpled up the newspaper and put it in
the trash.

#

A week later, Brenda sat at a long rectangle
table in her friend Kelly’s back yard, slapping at an occasional
mosquito that managed to get past the smoke pots. The last thing
she wanted to catch was the West Nile virus. Margaret, Kelly’s
mother, had rented a huge awning and there were brightly colored
flowers everywhere. The dinner was a catered Mexican buffet. A
small Latino band played classical guitars.

Brenda had come straight from work, but she’d
left her black suit jacket and conservative jewelry in the car.
She’d added a multicolored belt and large dangly turquoise earrings
to liven her look. She took a bite of her enchilada and smiled at
the conversation around her, without participating.

As far as she was concerned, Rehearsal
dinners were a waste of time, money, and effort.

What was the point? They were just another
expensive meal before the wedding, to celebrate the wedding. They
were like the endless pregame shows before the Super bowl, where
the analysts keep talking without saying anything of value.

“Just get it on with it,” she wanted to
say.

What was a wedding anyway? Two people
promising to love each other in front of family and friends. It
should take no more than ten minutes, tops.

And afterwards, if they wanted it, they
should have a nice meal. Take a few pictures. But there was no
reason to go crazy over it with engraved invitations, the
bridesmaids, the groomsmen, the showers, the rehearsal dinner, the
wedding luncheon, the dinner and reception. Not to mention the
flowers, the clothes, the limos, the alcohol.

In her opinion, too many people bought into
the myth, trying to create a perfect fairy tale event.

Considering the current divorce rates, it was
a bad financial investment. Women would be wiser to put the money
they would have spent on an elaborate wedding into a money market
account, or a house.

That’s what she would do, if the occasion
ever arose.

But as her best friend’s maid of honor, she
was obligated to participate.

Not that Brenda minded. Kelly had stood by
her through thick and thin over the years, so she’d do almost
anything for her.

She glanced at the main table. It was strange
to see Kelly and Lars, together at last. Poor Lars looked a little
stiff, but then, he was a serious, quiet man. He was also
absolutely gorgeous, six foot five and built like a Nordic god with
piercing blue eyes. Smart, too, with a good job. Kelly had hit the
matrimonial jackpot.

Brenda wasn’t jealous, not really. She was
happy Kelly was getting married and having a baby. But she’d hoped
that one day she and Steven would be doing the same.

Brenda sighed and then rolled her shoulders
back and lifted her chin. She refused to think about Steven.

After the toasts, the tables were cleared and
the guests could mingle. Brenda walked up to Kelly’s mother,
Margaret, to kiss her cheek. “How are you holding up?” she
teased.

Margaret frowned slightly. “I’m fine. It
really isn’t difficult . . .”

“No,” Brenda said quickly, regretting her
joke. She had to remember that Kelly’s family weren’t as sarcastic
as her own. They were much sweeter people. Brenda smiled to put
Kelly’s mother at ease. “Everything was lovely tonight. The food
was great, and I think everyone is enjoying themselves.”

“Thank you,” Margaret said, then asked,
“Steven couldn’t come?”

His name was a like a knife to her heart.
Brenda shook her head. “No.” She gave no explanation, and hopefully
there was no emotion on her face. She didn’t want to cast a damper
over the celebration by spilling her guts.

“Hopefully he’ll make it to the wedding.”

Over my dead body
, she thought, but
merely smiled. Margaret meant well.

“Brenda!” Frank Rawlings bellowed, as he wove
his way through the crowd. He gave her an enthusiastic hug.

Brenda laughed. Kelly’s father was heavy set
man with a big heart. He was a entrepreneur who had built his lamp
and chandelier business into a multimillion dollar company.

He beamed at her. “Can you believe it? My
baby girl is getting married.”

She nodded, knowing from past experience that
he could carry a conversation easily by himself. “You must be very
happy.”

“Now that she’s gotten rid of Nigel, I’m
ecstatic.”

Brenda had to agree with him. Lars was a vast
improvement over Kelly’s initial fiancé.

“But what about you, hmm?” he asked. “Are you
going to be next one to tie the knot?”

Brenda’s breath caught. “I don’t think so,”
she managed to say finally.

“What’s wrong with the men in this town?”
Frank said. “They must be blind.”

Brenda didn’t say anything, because she
couldn’t think of an appropriate response without sounding vain or
bitter. With her height and her long naturally blonde hair, she
didn’t have any trouble getting a high quantity of male attention.
Her problem was the quality of that attention. Fortunately, she saw
Kelly motioning to her, and made her escape.

Brenda gave Kelly a hug. “How are you
doing?”

Kelly made a so-so motion with her hand and
laughed ruefully. “So far, so good.”

“Well, you look marvelous,” Brenda said.
Kelly was a pretty girl, with a slim athletic build and long, wavy
brown hair. She rarely wore make-up, but tonight her face was model
perfect -- no doubt her mother’s influence.

Kelly put a hand on her stomach. “I don’t
look fat?” she asked in a whisper.

“No,” Brenda reassured her. “No one will
guess.” As improbable as it seemed, Kelly was several months
pregnant and didn’t want anyone -- especially her mother -- to
know.

Kelly sighed with relief. “Good.”

“Are you getting nervous?” Brenda asked.

“A little,” Kelly admitted. She glanced at
Lars who was standing twenty feet away with some of their
friends.

“Don’t worry,” Brenda said. “You’ll be
fine.”

Lars must have thought Kelly was summoning
him, because he quickly approached. He slid a comfortable hand
around Kelly’s waist and drew her closer to his side.

Kelly visibly relaxed and smiled up at him.
Brenda smiled at the two of them. Although their courtship had been
unconventional, they were good together.

“Hello, Brenda,” he said coolly.

“Hello.” Brenda liked Lars, but she sensed
that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Sometimes she got the impression
that he thought she was a bad influence on Kelly. And maybe she
was.

Kelly was the nicest person Brenda had ever
known. She was kind -- to a fault. She liked to socialize, but she
didn’t party; she didn’t even swear. With all her family’s money,
she could have been a snob, but instead, she was down-to-earth and
generous.

She’d make a good mother, a good wife.

Suddenly Brenda felt very tired. It must be
all the smiling she’d done today: first at work, and then tonight.
It was exhausting to pretend to be happy, when she felt dead
inside.

She was glad Kelly hadn’t asked about
Steven.

“See you tomorrow,” she said quickly. The
sooner she was away from all the wedding celebration, the
better.

“You’re leaving?” Kelly asked, surprised. “I
think the band is going to play for another hour.”

Brenda said, “I’ve got to get my beauty
sleep. And you do, too. Remember: Photos tomorrow.” She pointed her
finger at Lars. “Don’t keep her up too late.”

“I won’t,” he said seriously, and Brenda
laughed.

He was too good to be true.

Brenda drove home, deep in thought. She
wasn’t drunk, she’d had only one drink, but she still felt sad. She
knew that her friendship with Kelly would change now that she was
getting married. Lars would be a bigger, more important part of
Kelly’s life. And once the baby was born, Kelly would be even
busier.

Brenda sighed.

It was hard not to be a little envious.
Sometimes her arms ached to hold a baby. She was already an aunt to
more than a dozen nieces and nephews, but she wanted her own child.
She wanted to have a baby, to love and to nurture. She wanted to do
something of value with her life. There had to be something more to
life than working and earning a paycheck.

If only Steven wasn’t marr --- she stopped
that thought in mid-sentence.

She didn’t want to think about him. He was a
lying, cheating, scumbag. The fact that he had been cheating on his
wife with her, just made it worse.

But there was no denying it: as much as she
didn’t want Steven in her life, she missed him.

Before Kelly’s rehearsal dinner, he had
texted her.
R U still mad at me?

It had taken all her willpower not to text
him back. She must learn how to block numbers on her phone.

Once she was home, she changed out of her
suit skirt and tailored blouse, into a large gray t-shirt, and
started to get ready for bed. But as she was removing her contacts,
she realized that the t-shirt had the logo of Steven’s law firm.
She hastily pulled it off and stuffed it into the wastebasket.

She found a sleeveless cotton nightgown and
put that on, instead.

Her phone jingled to let her know she had
another text.

Out of habit, she glanced at it.

Steven again.
R U awake?

No. Leave me alone.

The words were typed and sent before she had
the good sense to stop herself. What was wrong with her? She’d
broken up with him for the last time. That meant no more
contact.

She quickly turned the phone completely off,
so she wouldn’t be aware of any more messages from him.

But ten minutes later, as she lay in bed,
trying to fall asleep, she remembered him lying next to her,
running his fingers through her long blonde hair.

I love you, Brenda
.

She shuddered, and sat bolt upright.

She had to stop this madness once and for
all. She walked to the kitchen and found a pair of scissors. She
held up a section of her long hair and cut it off, near her
scalp.

She let the strands fall to the vinyl covered
floor.

Steven loved her hair.

Snip.

He wouldn’t love her now.

Snip.

He’d take one look and finally leave her
alone.

Methodically she worked her way around her
head, until there was little left.

She felt lighter, freer, and chilled to the
bone. She shivered. She must have set the A/C too low.

She didn’t clean up the mess; she didn’t
check a mirror to see how bad it looked. She just slid between her
sheets and slept.

#

Either she slept through her alarm, or she
hadn’t set it, but it was ten-fifteen when Brenda finally woke and
stared bleary eyed at the digital numbers on her clock. She
groaned. She had to be at Kelly’s house at eleven to have her
make-up professionally done, so she’d be cutting it close. She sat
up, rubbed her eyes and started to smooth her hair back.

She felt the uneven stubble under her fingers
and remembered cutting it the night before.

What have I done?

She scrambled to the bathroom and stared with
dismay at her reflection. Her blue eyes were ringed with mascara
and she looked as if she’d lost a fight with a weed-wacker.

She glanced back at her clock. It was
ten-twenty-four now, and there was absolutely no time for her to
get her hair cut in a short pixie style and try to salvage it. She
couldn’t arrive an hour late: Kelly’s mother would have a heart
attack.

So realistically, what were her options?

CHAPTER TWO

In the end, she shaved it all off.

Kelly’s mother gasped when she saw her bald
dome, but at least she didn’t keel over. Brenda wondered if
Margaret was sturdier than Kelly gave her credit for.

After her make-up was done, she spoke to
Kelly, to apologize for ruining her wedding.

Kelly’s eyes widened, and Brenda could tell
that she was appalled, but, generous soul that she was, she tried
to downplay the disaster. She just gave her a hug and told her she
was beautiful with or without her hair.

Which made Brenda want to cry. She couldn’t
imagine anyone being a better friend than Kelly.

The wedding itself, was solemn and beautiful.
Brenda sat staring down at her pink satin bridesmaid dress,
listening to the words of the minister, wishing she still believed
in marriage.