The Seven Year Bitch (35 page)

“Sorry about the shit,
ja
,” I said.

Later that night Russell and I both got terrible diarrhea from the Indian food. The dinner special included a choice of appetizer and a choice of entrée, and we'd both chosen mulligatawny soup and chicken tikka masala.

“Jesus,” Russell said from the bathroom. “Forget rice and condiments, they should just send a free roll of toilet paper with your order. ʽI will have the mulligatawny soup, the chicken tikka masala, and the Quilted Northern.' ”

I lay on my bed and laughed, and then ran to the other bathroom.

 

 

“ A woman on the
subway thought I molested her,” Russell said, coming in the door the next day. He set down the day's mail without looking at it.

“What?” I said. After seven years of marriage, if Russell did something wrong, I got the sinking feeling that I had done it too. I suddenly felt as if I had molested a woman on the subway.

What new aggressive act was this? I was sure it was a beautiful black girl he had done it to. He'd always had a thing for black girls.

“I was reaching my arm out to grab the pole and my arm brushed against her tits and I said, ‘Sorry,' and she said, ʽDon't let it happen again.' And I said, ‘You've got to be fucking kidding me.' I said, ʽDon't flatter yourself!' and everyone around me laughed. I felt really good. Enough already. Everyone practically applauded. I was like a hero.”

Russell seemed genuinely proud of himself.

“It's always the ugliest girls on the subway who think you're trying to feel them up.
Ooooh.
” He shuddered dramatically. “Disgusting.”

“Well, I'm sorry the woman you molested wasn't more attractive but I'm glad you had a good day,” I said. I tried to remind myself not to compare him to other women's husbands. I'd just have to be happy with mine's big achievement—getting away with molesting a woman on the subway. Maybe it didn't exactly put money in our pocket, or was as wholesome a hobby as golf, but it made him happy and that was what counted.

“Why is Daddy a hero, Mommy?” Duncan asked. I paused for a moment because “He molested a woman on the subway” didn't seem like the right thing to say even if it was the true thing. “Did you save someone?” Duncan asked.

“Yes I did,” Russell said. “I saved all the men on the subway from a very mean woman.”

“You mean like a witch or somethin'?”

“That's right,” Russell said.

As Duncan reenacted his own version of the story, proudly playing his father, I remembered that I used to have a vision for myself. I used to be able to see myself with a girl and a boy and a handsome husband, his briefcase lined up neatly next to mine by the front door, ready to grab on our way to our jobs as managing directors at our respective firms. Then my mother had explained to me, incorrectly I believe, about what her shrink had said about magical thinking. According to her shrink, you couldn't wish something to happen. And I think that was the moment that I had stopped wishing, even though I had been wishing for so long I didn't even know I was doing it, like stretching my legs when I brushed my teeth in the morning.

I started to slowly panic, trying to wish for something again. I felt time ticking, my birthday candle burning down, my cremation having begun at my birth.

I thought of the dead bird hanging outside of Marlon's house, and I realized I had been that bird, dead in my own nest, and maybe I didn't have to be anymore.

“Is this a treasure?” Duncan asked his father, holding up an old bent straw that he'd folded into his pirate chest.

“It is if you want it to be,” Russell said. “It might not be a treasure to another pirate, but if it's important to you then it is a treasure. We treasure what we care about most.”

“This is my treasure,” Duncan said, putting his arm around Rhys. “You and Mommy and Rhys are my treasures.”

“You and Mommy and Rhys are my treasures too,” Russell said.

The phone rang and I let the machine pick up, waiting for the angry voice of Deirdre-Agnes to come through. But it wasn't Deirdre-Agnes, just an author of Russell's. Now that I thought of it, I hadn't gotten a call from Deirdre-Agnes in a long time. It could have been months even. I hadn't noticed her absence in the same way, I realized, that I hadn't noticed that I really loved Russell again.

To my surprise, Russell didn't run to the phone, despite his author's whimpers. He just picked up his sword and made Duncan walk the plank.

W
e need you to do us a favor,” Valerie, from the contest company, said. I was very surprised to get the call from her. It was eleven at night and I was pumping milk to leave with Shasthi the next day. It was a strange offering, like something out of a Grimm's fairy tale, handing my own milk over to Shasthi every morning. Even stranger was when I'd nursed Louisa once when she'd left her with me and taken Duncan and Rhys to the deli. I had ended up a wet nurse for my nanny after all. I could barely hear Valerie over the pump, a whirring noise that always somehow sounded like words—
feed him, feed him, feed him, feed him
. I watched the pump stretch my nipples to look like penises. Nature was strangely imperfect.

I turned off the pump. “What's the favor?” I asked.

“We're doing a giveaway for Coca-Cola. We need a judge, but it doesn't involve reading essays. It has to be done tomorrow at the Woodbury Commons Mall in Harriman, New York, and the judge who was supposed to do it had an emergency. We know it's very last minute, but it has to happen tomorrow morning at ten a.m. and we're hoping to avoid having to fly someone out from here. I thought of you, because you're always so nice on the phone.”

I felt very touched when she said that because I always tried so hard to be nice and I didn't think people always thought of me that way.

“You would get paid, of course,” she said. “The job pays five hundred dollars for less than an hour's work.”

“What would I have to do?” I asked, thinking there was no way I was going to do it whatever it was.

“It's fun actually. Coca-Cola is giving away cash prizes, fifty thousand dollars, ten thousand dollars, five thousand dollars, and ten one-hundred-dollar bills. All you have to do is meet the Coca-Cola representative at the mall and walk around randomly deciding who gets the money.”

“What?” I said, my heart starting to pound for some reason. “What do they have to do to be picked?”

“Nothing, you just surprise them. You just walk up to someone who looks nice and say, ‘Congratulations, you've been chosen to win fifty thousand dollars in cash by the Coca-Cola Company.' Then the Coke rep will hand you a case with the cash in it, and you'll hand it over. It's better if there's a little diversity, you know, a young African-American man, a white old lady, if there's anyone Hispanic, that sort of thing. And it's better not to approach couples, even if they seem married. There can't be any confusion about who is the actual recipient of the prize.”

“And then what does the winner have to do?” I asked.

“Nothing. Oh, and just make sure you don't know the person and that the person doesn't work for Coca-Cola or any of its affiliates.”

“Let me just look in my book,” I said, looking down at the halffilled bottle of milk. “I can do it,” I said.

“Oh, that's great, Izzy. I've MapQuested from your address, and it takes about an hour, so we'll have a car service pick you up at eight thirty if that's okay.”

“I have a car,” I started to say but then changed my mind. “Actually a car service would be great.”

“Thanks, Izzy.” She told me where I'd be meeting the man from Coca-Cola and that he'd have some papers for me to sign, stating I was an independent judge and that I would be completely impartial.

I got off the phone and resumed pumping. I had helped to give Shasthi a baby, and now she would have fifty thousand dollars in cash by ten fifteen tomorrow morning.

 

 

In the morning Russell
called the garage and told them to bring up our car and he went to get it. Shasthi got the children ready. My mother arrived on time to babysit, and from where I was in the bathroom, I could hear Duncan enthusiastically grilling my mother. “Are you old, Grandma?” he asked.

“No,” my mother said.

“Yes you are. Will you always be old?”

At eight thirty, Shasthi and I went down in the elevator silently and walked out of the building. Shasthi got into my car, next to Russell, and I watched them drive away. Then I got into the back of a black BMW that had been provided for me.

At the Woodbury Commons
mall, the man meeting me from Coca-Cola turned out to be a very nice young girl accompanied by two intimidating-looking armed guards holding three metal briefcases. “These are the hundred-dollar bills,” she said, waving a fan of envelopes at me that had the Coca-Cola logo on them. “And the big bucks are obviously in there. Isn't this so fun?” she said. “I love when we do this! Do you mind wearing this?”

She handed me a stiff Coca-Cola baseball hat and I put it on, thankful it helped me to look nothing like myself.

“Do you need a cup of coffee or something?” she asked.

“No, let's just get started,” I said.

“Well, where should we start? Here is a map of the mall and I was thinking . . .”

“Actually I know my way around,” I said. “My country house isn't too far from here. I think the best place would be there near the Carter's outlet.”

“Okay,” she said. I looked at her and saw she could be pretty if she wasn't trying to look professional. “Let's go.” We started walking toward the Carter's.

“So you're a hedge fund manager?” she chatted.

“I used to be,” I said miserably.

“Oh wait, you have to sign the contract.”

We all stopped walking and she handed me the document that stated that I was not related or in any way familiar with any of the prize recipients. And I signed it. Then we started walking again.

“Let's do the big prize first,” she said. “Fifty thousand dollars. Take your time. Then just choose whoever you think deserves it!”

Outside of Carter's were two white moms with babies in strollers. A young girl with a Carter's name tag was smoking a cigarette, the pack of Yours clutched in her hand. Where was Shasthi? If Russell messed this up, I thought, I would never forgive him.

“Maybe we should start with the smaller prizes,” I said.

“We like to start with the big ones so we're not walking around with so much cash,” the Coke girl said.

“Izzy?” I heard from behind me. “Is that you?” I, and my strange entourage, turned to find Gra and Charlie, with Fisher toddling in front of them.

“Hi, Charlie. Hi, Gra,” I said.

“What are you doing up here on a Tuesday?” Charlie asked. “Where's Russell?”

“Actually, I'm here on business,” I said. “Coke is doing a cash giveaway.” I pointed to my cap.

“How much cash? We'll take some of that,” Charlie said.

“I'm not allowed to know the person,” I said.

I turned my head and looked for Shasthi but she wasn't there.

“You don't know us,” Charlie said. “Who the fuck are you?” He turned to the security guards. “I've never seen this person before in my life. My name isn't Charlie, and her name isn't Gra. What the fuck kind of name is Gra? Who's named Gra? How much fucking money is in there?”

“Stop it,” Gra said. “He drunk. It's sister-birthday today.”

“Your anniversary!” I said.

“YOU DON'T KNOW US!” Charlie yelled. “What sister? I don't have a sister!”

“I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the lady,” one of the guards said, tapping Charlie on the arm.

“Get your fucking hands off of me,” Charlie yelled. “Give us our prize and we'll be on our way.”

“I'm sorry. I can't,” I said.

Then I saw Shasthi walking quickly toward the Carter's. She looked just as she had the first time I'd seen her. “I pick her,” I said to the Coke girl.

“Which one?” she asked, and I realized the place had filled up with people, mostly moms.

“The girl with the long hair and the sequins,” I said. “She looks Indian.”

“Perfect!”

“Hey, go fuck yourself,” Charlie said and stormed off with a pissed-off-looking Gra following behind him.

I walked up to Shasthi.

“Excuse me,” I said brightly. “Coca-Cola is giving away money today and you've been chosen to win our grand prize.”