Ladies' Night by Andrews, Kay (popular books of all time .TXT) 📕

couple hours ago,” Grace assured him. But she was glad he’d noticed. On her last thrifting excursion, she’d found a pair of nearly new black DKNY capris at the Junior League for three dollars and a simple acid-green polished cotton wrap blouse, which set her back ninety-nine cents at the hospice shop. The blouse was sleeveless, and she thought it was flattering to the new tan she’d acquired from all that running. With the black ballet flats from Target and a wide gold bangle bracelet she’d borrowed from Rochelle, this was the nicest outfit she owned, and she’d spent less buying it than she had a tube of lipstick in her old life.

Wyatt nodded his head in Paula’s direction. “Obviously, she found her way home last week.”

“Look. She’s even wearing shoes. Maybe she’s got a hot date afterward,” Grace murmured.

At the stroke of 7:00 P.M., Paula began herding them to their seats. “Please be seated,” she said, clapping her hands. Paula looked around the room, taking a silent body count. Grace prayed she would overlook the oversized totebag she’d stowed under her folding chair.

“So,” Paula began, her voice in a slightly higher-than-normal pitch. “We’ve completed two weeks of recovery therapy. At this stage of your process, I hope you’re beginning to feel a little more comfortable in your own skin. We’ve talked a little bit about how you see yourselves, following the breakup of your marriage. And I’d like to continue that discussion this week, with having you share from your journals.”

Paula’s cell phone was in her lap, and while she spoke, her eyes continually watched it.

She gazed around the room. “Who haven’t we heard from?”

Wyatt and Suzanne slumped down in their chairs, ducked their heads, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed. It was painfully clear the therapist had no memory of what had transpired in their previous session.

“I don’t think Suzanne has shared with us yet,” Ashleigh volunteered.

“I’ll just bet you were that kid in elementary school who always reminded the teacher she hadn’t assigned homework, just before the bell rang,” Camyrn said, giving Ashleigh the evil eye.

Suzanne’s olive skin flushed.

“That’s right,” Paula said. “Thank you, Ashleigh. Suzanne?”

*   *   *

Grace felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Suzanne, hunched down in her chair, eyes glued to her journal. Her face was pale, with two bright spots of pink on her cheeks, but her face was beaded with a fine sheen of perspiration.

Suzanne was dressed in a dull, unflattering beige dress and scuffed brown leather sandals. It was as if she was wearing her own brand of camouflage, to blend into the surroundings.

“Uh, well,” Suzanne stuttered and blinked rapidly. Grace noticed that the damp palms of her hands had begun to make the ink on Suzanne’s journal run.

Suzanne’s voice was low.

“Once, I was a wife,” she began, reading in a stilted monotone.

“I was a lover, a mother, a teacher, a mentor. I had value, to others as well as myself. And then I discovered my husband’s treachery. He was cheating on me, with one of my coworkers. I didn’t confront him. I kept telling myself it might not be true. I became obsessed with checking on him, on her, confirming my worst suspicions. I figured out where they were having their trysts. I followed him. I checked into the same cheap motel room after they’d left, and I told myself I would take some pills and kill myself, in that same bed, and it would be the perfect, poetic justice. Just another Shakespearean tragedy. But I couldn’t even do that. Even after I knew, I did nothing. I was paralyzed. He loved someone else. She was younger, prettier, cleverer, sexier. How could I compete with her? I was a failure, at everything, especially marriage. If I couldn’t keep Eric, how could I be a success at my job? How could I be a good mother to my daughter Darby? So I have stopped trying, because if I don’t try, I can’t fail. Every day I shrink a little more. Soon I’ll be invisible. Will anybody notice? Will Eric?”

Suzanne closed her notebook, but didn’t look up.

“Oh, wow,” Ashleigh breathed, breaking the silence. “You actually slept in the same motel room they’d just screwed in? That is all kinds of crazy.”

“Ashleigh!” Camryn’s eyes blazed. “Will you please shut the fuck up?”

Paula didn’t appear to have heard Ashleigh’s comment. She was staring down at her cell phone, reading something on the screen.

Now, she looked up, realized the group was expecting some comment from their therapist.

“That was very powerful, Suzanne,” she said, beaming, and then looking around at the others. “Any comments? Thoughts?”

Wyatt twisted his wedding band. “I’ve been there,” he said, finally. “I couldn’t put it in words like you just did, Suzanne. But yeah, every day, when I think about it, letting some other guy just take my wife, just stepping aside and letting her leave? What a loser I am. So who could blame her for leaving me for him?”

“You’re not a loser,” Grace said fiercely. “None of us are losers. Just because my husband didn’t value me—all the things I am? That doesn’t change who I am. But it changes who he is. Somebody who lies. Somebody who cheats.” She sat up. “My ex came to see me today. And I finally saw him for what he is.”

“Oooh, girl,” Camryn said. “Was he begging you to take him back?”

“No.” Grace thought about it for a moment. “He just wanted to grind his heel in my face. Punish me some more, make me feel like crap. Let me know he’ll always have power over me.”

Suddenly, Paula stood up. “Very nice, Wyatt and Grace. Excellent work, sharing with our friends. Let’s take a little ten-minute break, and then we’ll come back and, um, I have a surprise for all of you. Also? Who haven’t we heard from yet?”

“Me,” Wyatt said reluctantly.

The others shot out of the room like first graders at recess. All except Suzanne, who sat demurely in her chair, ankles crossed, hands in