he’s saying, although she glances in her rearview mirror as she drives off and he’s shouting something.
“That was the worst night of my life,” she says out loud as she drives home. “Not only am I going to kill Laura, I’m never ever going to a singles night anywhere for as long as I live.”
It’s not even as though Daff wants a relationship. What she wants, right now, is to find herself again. When she was married, she knew who she was. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely true to herself— she always felt, married to Richard, she was playing a role, being the dutiful wife, the loving mother, to the extent that she stopped thinking about what it was that would make her happy—but now that she’s no longer married she realizes she doesn’t have a clear definition of who she is.
Living in this small suburban town where everyone is married, everyone is defined by their role in the community, their involvement in school, she doesn’t have a role anymore.
Slowly, she realizes, her social life has dropped off. The couples they were friends with are no longer her friends. Friendly, yes, but she is no longer invited to dinner parties and get-togethers on her own, unless there is a single man someone wants to introduce her to, but they are few and far between.
She runs into those women sometimes at the grocery store, their carts piled high with industrial packs of Bounty, giant plastic bottles of Tide, three quarts of fat-free organic milk, and she feels self-conscious about her own shopping, particularly now that Jess is no longer at home—a couple of yogurts, sliced ham from the deli, a small packet of organic granola and half a pint of milk.
“We must get together,” the women will say, eyeing her small hand-held basket with pity as they pretend to be embarrassed at all their provisions. “Groceries,” they’ll say with a sigh. “Isn’t this a pain?”
Soon after the divorce she had read in the local paper about a women’s support group. She had gone, not because she particularly wanted support, but because she was lonely, was still trying to adjust to not having a husband to cook for, to having to do everything herself, and was hoping to meet some other women who had shared her experience, perhaps find friends, women she could get together with and have dinner, a coffee perhaps.
But she had found it frightening and toxic. A room full of bitter, angry women, each of whom seemed to have a worse story about the awful ex-husbands in their lives, from abuse, to laziness, to infidelity. Daff left the room each time in a deep depression.
“What about your husband?” someone would invariably ask as they lined up by the coffee machine in the break, and Daff, who could have regaled them with stories of Richard’s affair, chose instead to shrug and say it was just one of those things that didn’t work out, and they quickly lost interest.
What she needs now, she realizes, is a fresh start. A change of scene. She is booked on the ferry to Nantucket in three days, and she needs this rest more than she has ever needed anything. She needs to get away from home, needs to lie on beaches with stacks of good books, hell, maybe even start painting again. She needs to remember who she was before she became a wife, a mother and, most recently, a divorcée.
She needs to decide who she’s going to be next.
Chapter Sixteen
"Oh good.” Nan peers out of the kitchen window as she does the washing up. "That nice man from the garden center’s here. Daniel, would you mind just running out and telling him I’m in the kitchen? I’ll be out in a minute.”
Nan watches as Daniel walks outside and introduces himself to Matt, pointing inside then nodding and climbing up into the back of the truck to help get the tools.
How could they not like each other, she thinks. Matt, short but perfectly formed, his arms a deep, rich tan from working outside in the sun, with longish brown hair and a ready smile, is nothing short of adorable, and a perfect foil for the more brooding Daniel.
What a lovely couple they would make, she thinks, smiling to herself, wiping her hands on a towel. Not that she’s trying to push anyone into anything, but that poor Daniel is so sad, and so obviously confused. Amazing that his wife doesn’t seem to know, but this must