conscious decisions along the way. He had to have thought about what he was doing, he had to have considered the possibilities when he started spending time with Linda. And no matter how much he tried to soft-pedal what had happened, it was as if he’d told Adrienne not only that Linda was better in every way, but that Adrienne wasn’t even worth the time and effort it would take to fix whatever it was he thought was wrong with their relationship.
How was she supposed to react to that sort of total rejection? It was easy for others to say that it had nothing to do with her, that Jack was going through a midlife crisis, but it still had an effect on the person she thought she was. Especially as a woman. It was hard to feel sensual when you didn’t feel attractive, and the ensuing three years without a date only served to underscore her feeling of inadequacy.
And how had she dealt with that feeling? She’d devoted her life to her children, her father, the house, her job, the bills. Consciously or subconsciously, she’d stopped doing those things that would give her the opportunity to think about herself. Gone were the relaxing conversations with friends on the telephone, or walks or baths, or even working in her garden. Everything she did had a purpose, and though she believed she was keeping her life orderly in this way, she now realized that it had been a mistake.
It hadn’t helped, after all. She was busy from the moment she woke until the moment she went to bed, and because she’d robbed herself of any possibility of rewards, there was nothing to look forward to. Her daily routine was a series of chores, and that was enough to wear anyone down. By giving up the little things that make life worthwhile, all she’d done, she suddenly realized, was to forget who she really was.
Paul, she suspected, already knew that about her. And somehow, spending time with him had given her the chance to realize it as well.
But this weekend wasn’t simply about recognizing the mistakes she’d made in the past. It also had to do with the future and how she would live from this point on. Her past was played out; there was nothing she could do about that, but the future was still up for grabs, and she didn’t want to live the rest of her life feeling the way she had for the last three years.
She shaved her legs and soaked in the tub for another few minutes, long enough for most of the suds to vanish and the water to start cooling. She dried off and—knowing that Jean wouldn’t mind—reached for the lotion on the counter. She applied some to her legs and belly, then her breasts and arms, relishing the way it made her skin come to life.
Wrapping the towel around her, she went to her suitcase. Force of habit made her reach for jeans and a sweater, but after pulling them out, she set them aside. If I’m serious about changing the way I’m going to live, she thought, I may as well start now.
She hadn’t brought much else with her, certainly nothing fancy, but she did have a pair of black pants and a white blouse that Amanda had bought her for Christmas. She’d brought those along in the vague hope that she might head out one evening, and though she wasn’t going anywhere, it seemed as good a time as any to put them on.
She dried her hair with a blow dryer and curled it. Makeup came next: mascara and a dusting of blush, lipstick she’d bought at Belk’s a few months back but had seldom used. Leaning toward the mirror, she added a trace of eye shadow, just enough to accent the color of her eyes, as she’d done in the early years of her marriage.
When she was ready, she tugged at the blouse until it hung just right, smiling at what she saw. It had been far too long since she’d last looked like this.
She left the bedroom, and as she passed through the kitchen, she could smell the coffee. It was what she would normally drink on a day like this, especially since it was still the afternoon, but instead of pouring a cup, she retrieved the last bottle of wine in the refrigerator, then grabbed the corkscrew and a couple of glasses, feeling worldly, as if she were finally