Читать книгу Someone Like You - Timothy James Beck - Страница 9

Vienna Talbot never hesitated to pamper herself. In her thirty-five years on earth, she’d learned that everyone was looking out for himself, so she’d better follow suit. If she had a long day, nothing soothed her nerves like a pedicure. If she saw an outfit in a window, she told herself that it wouldn’t look better on anyone else; she’d then prove her assumption correct by trying it on and buying it. She liked to be surrounded by beautiful objects. For breakfast, she preferred freshly sliced fruit with yogurt in a Baccarat bowl.

Davii often called her a diva. Vienna hated the word. It had connotations she didn’t relate to: a pushy, demanding bitch who always had to be the center of attention and get her way. Vienna knew she was the complete opposite of that description. Sure, she enjoyed getting her way every now and then, but she was more than willing to learn from her mistakes. She felt more comfortable on the edge of a crowd, observing, taking in a scene, rather than making one.

From the time she was a little girl, she’d known she was pretty. A fact confirmed by the members of her father’s parish, who were quick to point out her beauty when they saw her at church or when they came to the Talbot home for dinner. She appreciated a compliment and was quick to offer thanks for an accolade, but it wasn’t the be-all and end-all of her existence. Her self-confidence was strong and she didn’t demand compliments, or anything else, from anyone.

Vienna stood in front of a full-length mirror in a dressing room at Drayden’s, comparing the little girl from her memory to the woman she’d become. She ran her hands over her stomach and scrutinized her reflection. She was tall, but not exactly slender. Her body could be described as womanly, curvy, but nothing kept moving after she stood still. She ate right, and her only vice was alcohol, but not in excess. Vienna turned and looked over her shoulder to examine her butt in her black lace panties.

“Ain’t no junk in my trunk,” she said to herself.

“Did you call me?” a perky voice called to her through the dressing room’s curtain.

“No,” Vienna said quickly and firmly. She’d finished her last day of training, four hours of register procedures and three hours of diversity class, and decided to reward herself with lingerie. She hated it when salespeople didn’t respect a closed curtain. “I’m fine. But could you find me this set in red, too? And can I try the merry widow that’s on the mannequin?”

“Of course.”

Vienna readjusted a bra strap and tried to look at herself as if she were a stranger. Or how a man might view her. She smiled, liking the way her light brown skin looked in spite of the fluorescent lighting. Her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes were free of makeup, save a light foundation and eyeliner. Her lips, however, were painted a dark red, drawing attention to her mouth, which she thought was her best feature. Although with the way the new bra lifted her breasts, she began to reconsider.

“I’d do me,” she decided aloud.

“Here you are,” her sales associate said, passing the requested items through the curtain.

“Thank you,” Vienna said.

“My name is Jeanine. Call me if you need me.”

“I will,” Vienna said, even though she knew she wouldn’t. There was no way Vienna would ever wear red lingerie. She’d only asked for it to give Jeanine something to do, to keep her out of the dressing room. However, Vienna had always wanted to try on a merry widow. It was something she never would’ve considered buying before she moved to Terre Haute. It wasn’t becoming for a preacher’s daughter or a respected psychologist.

But the Vienna in the mirror, in her lacy black bra and panties, looked like a completely different person from the girl from Gary, Indiana. Just thinking about Gary made Vienna cringe. She couldn’t wait to leave her hometown when she was young. She wanted to get away from the industrial fumes, the suburban boredom, and her overbearing, hypercritical mother. Vienna knew the key to escape was her mind. She studied hard and accepted the first scholarship that came her way, taking her to Bloomington. Even at Indiana University, Vienna kept her nose to the grindstone, never deviating from her plans for success. However, a defensive lineman named Kevin did sidetrack her.

Kevin Martazak was a star on the field and off. A physiology major, he was on the dean’s list, and he danced with IU’s African American Dance Company, though he swore he did it only to help his agility on the field. Kevin and Vienna met in statistics class when they both knocked their textbooks off their desks at the same time. They introduced themselves after class, and Vienna stated that the odds of them having the same accident at the same time were one in fifty. Kevin asked what the odds were for going out on a date, to which Vienna replied, “From where I’m standing, they’re looking good. Better by the second.”

They lived together for three years before they got married. After graduation, they got an apartment off campus and pursued their master’s degrees while holding down part-time jobs. Then Kevin, working as a therapist in a downtown hospital, supported her while she got her doctorate. Eventually they bought a house in the suburbs, with matching Volvos and hectic lives. Vienna found an office with a group of psychologists in a professional building near their new home.

Their life seemed perfect. Vienna enjoyed being married. She liked coming home from work and cooking dinner for her husband. She liked taking care of him. She liked picking up their dry cleaning. She liked grocery shopping. She liked massaging Kevin’s shoulders until he fell asleep on the couch while watching a movie in their home.

She enjoyed her career. Vienna liked helping people; guiding them to make better decisions about their lives and to see things about themselves that they’d never realized. Maintaining her home and career was difficult, but she managed quite well. Vienna used her maiden name at work, and sometimes she felt like two different people. By day she was Dr. Talbot, saving people from their inner demons. At five o’clock each evening, she’d resume her true identity as Mrs. Martazak, devoted wife of Kevin.

All her years of dreaming and planning had paid off. Vienna felt like she’d broken free from the shackles of Gary to become her own person. She loved that her patients felt safe enough to confide in her. And if she ever doubted that her life was perfect, she need only listen to the awful truths her patients revealed to make her count her blessings.

Until one afternoon a patient unwittingly offered Vienna a dose of reality she couldn’t bear to swallow. Her patient, Laura, was having an affair with a married man. Vienna listened to Laura for weeks with an open mind, despite the fact that deep inside, she hated her. In Vienna’s opinion, what was worse than the affair was that Laura got sloppy as the weeks went by, as if she wanted her husband to find out what she was doing. Laura didn’t work, but she’d come home late, telling her husband that she’d been grocery shopping. Yet she arrived home empty-handed. Another time, Laura came home from a liaison with her lover, fixed dinner for her family, did the dishes, watched television with her husband, and went to bed as if nothing had ever happened. Which was what she normally did, but this time, her lover’s dried semen was still on her legs, since she hadn’t taken a shower after they met that afternoon.

Vienna was appalled. But all she could do was ask Laura what she would have done if her husband wanted to make love and wondered what was on her leg. After a long pause, Laura said, “I think I wanted him to find out. And I think I would’ve told him. Kevin’s an amazing lover and a good man. I’d rather be married to him than to my husband. Maybe I should ask for a divorce. What do you think, Dr. Talbot?”

“This is a breakthrough, Laura. But it changes your original goal. You came here hoping to end your affair and keep your husband. Now it sounds as if you’re changing your mind. To answer your question, it doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think?” Vienna asked. Then, before Laura could answer, Vienna heard herself add, “I’m sorry. Did you say Kevin?”

“Yeah,” Laura answered. “I mean, you have to admit that Mrs. Martazak sounds better than Mrs. Bartlebaum.”

“You’re right. That does sound better. But then, I’m rather partial to the name,” Vienna said. “Talbot is my maiden name. My husband’s name is Martazak. Which makes me Mrs. Martazak. Mrs. Kevin Martazak.”

The last thing Vienna remembered was Laura’s startled face as she put two and two together. Vienna had never been a firm believer in temporary insanity, but she changed her point of view when she stabbed Laura in the leg with a letter opener.

Vienna stared at herself in the mirror at Drayden’s. Even though she was no longer Vienna the preacher’s daughter from Gary, or Mrs. Martazak from Bloomington, the merry widow still wasn’t for her. She was neither merry nor a widow. She was a bitter divorcée.

After she dressed, Vienna tossed the merry widow aside, handed the lingerie to Jeanine, and said, “I’ll just take these, please.”

The magic of purchasing with a discount faded faster than the image on a falling Etch A Sketch when the sales associate said, “The name on your license is Vienna Martazak, but the Visa card says Vienna Talbot.”

“I’m divorced. It’s easier to get a new Visa than it is to spend a whole day at the DMV. Talbot’s my maiden name.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you have unpleasant associations with the name Talbot?” Vienna asked.

“What? No,” Jeanine said. “I meant that I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Vienna said. She felt pitied and didn’t like it at all. “Can I sign so I can get home?”

“Sure. Sign here, then add your employee number and extension.” While Vienna signed, Jeanine asked, “Was it a bad divorce?”

“No, it was fabulous! We sang Gershwin tunes throughout the whole hearing. My divorce was sold out for weeks.” Seeing the sales associate’s discomfort, she quickly apologized and added, “I don’t think divorces are ever good.”

“I shouldn’t have pried,” Jeanine said.

“It wasn’t all bad,” Vienna said offhandedly. “I got to keep my car and the money from selling the house.”

“What did he get?” Jeanine asked.

“He got to live,” Vienna said. When Jeanine laughed, she added, “I didn’t think that was fair, but who am I to question a judge?”

Walking through the mall on her way home, Vienna watched the people around her and wondered if their lives had turned out as planned. She tried to ignore all the couples walking hand in hand, but there were too many of them. People came from all over the world to visit Mall of the Universe, and they seemed to do it in pairs. She tried to avert her eyes, but everywhere she looked she saw them. Then she ran into a woman and said, “Excuse me. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” the woman said. “Do you regularly get manicures? Would you like to try our new hand cream? It’s great for problem cuticles.”

Vienna looked around in horror, finally realizing what had happened. She wasn’t paying attention and had run into one of the Cart People.

“No. I just got a manicure. I don’t need anything,” Vienna said quickly and tried to get away. Before she could, the other Cart People saw her, grabbed samples from their carts, and began moving toward her.

“Isn’t this hat great?”

“Do you need sunglasses? We have the latest styles!”

“These earrings would look fabulous against your neck! They’re stainless steel.”

Vienna felt like the town tramp with a broken heel in a slasher flick as hordes of zombies moved in for the kill. She swung her Drayden’s shopping bag to ward off the Cart People, screamed, and ran for her life.

By the time she got home, Vienna was extremely annoyed. The scads of people in love ticked her off, but her own feelings of inferiority bothered her even more. Not to mention the Cart People. She slammed the door to her apartment, threw her shopping bag into her room, and headed for the refrigerator.

“You’re in a mood,” Davii observed as he turned to look at her from their sofa. Though their apartment was fairly large, the kitchen, dining area, and living room had no walls, so Davii and Vienna could carry on a conversation even though they were in separate rooms. “Rough day in the kohl mines, dear?”

Vienna shut the refrigerator door and said, “Why don’t we have any decent food? Do we have any cupcakes? I want cupcakes.”

Davii turned off the television and said, “You threw out all the junk food last week when you went on fad diet number five this year.”

“That was stupid. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Ever try to stop a moving train?” Davii asked. “This can’t be about cupcakes. What’s wrong?”

“Why can’t it be about cupcakes?”

“Because that would be insane,” Davii said.

“Technically, it would be obsessive. Actually, it’s more compulsive behavior,” Vienna said.

Davii patted the cushion next to him and said, “Come on, Vienna. Tell me all about it.”

Vienna made a big show of exasperation as she crossed the room to sit down, but inside she was grateful. She wanted to talk to someone. Someone other than a sales associate at Drayden’s. “I hate people,” Vienna said after she sat down.

“No, you don’t,” Davii said.

“Okay. Just people in love.”

“No, you don’t,” Davii repeated. “You hate that you’re not in love.”

“No, I don’t,” Vienna retorted. “What I hate is people who watch talk shows and think they know everything there is to know about psychology. I’m upset because my husband left me.”

“Your husband didn’t leave you. He had an affair.”

“Same thing,” Vienna said. “He left me sexually.”

“The sex is always better on the other side of the fence,” Davii stated. “So this bad mood is all your ex-husband’s fault?”

“Isn’t everything?” Vienna asked.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Vienna said. “I was just using humor as a shield. I’m in a bad mood because a sales associate at Drayden’s brought up my divorce while I was shopping.”

“How did that come up?” Davii asked. “Did she ask, ‘Would you like to try on that dress? What size are you? An eight, or a divorcée?’”

“I’m a six,” Vienna lied emphatically. She told Davii what happened in the store, then said, “It’s not so much the divorce that’s bothering me. It’s the fact that it’s been two years since it happened and I’m still in the same place I was then.”

Davii looked puzzled as he said, “I thought that all happened in Bloomington.”

“Not literally,” Vienna said with an exasperated sigh. “I mean figuratively. Emotionally. Davii, I haven’t been with another man since Kevin.”

“I live in the same apartment. You don’t have to convince me.”

“Hey! I could be like you and have quickies all over this mall. You don’t know what I do outside our apartment.”

Davii rolled his eyes and smirked, his silence saying more about Vienna’s character than words ever could. They’d lived together for almost two years, and Davii was the only person that Vienna trusted with her secrets. If she had an illicit fling, Davii would be told. He knew that she had problems trusting people, especially men. She knew that he felt sorry for her, though he’d never say that out loud. Davii understood that Vienna was a romantic woman who grew up with notions of princes on horses who would rescue her from her bedroom window in Gary. Now that she lived with Davii on the eighth floor of the Galaxy Building, she wasn’t sure the princes would be able to reach her.

Davii said, “Don’t underestimate the power of a good quickie. It could be just what you need.”

“Do you see me disagreeing?” Vienna asked. “Davii, I bought lingerie today after work. Do you know how depressing it is to try on lingerie, look at yourself in the mirror, then realize you have nobody to wear it for?”

“You could wear it for me,” Davii said.

“Honey, that’s even more depressing,” Vienna said with a good-natured laugh. “I’m better off wearing it for myself.”

“At least then you’re more likely to have an orgasm. I can’t guarantee the same results as your right hand.”

“I’m left-handed.”

“Whatever.”

“I just want a man who respects me,” Vienna said. “A man who won’t give up on me would be nice, too.”

“So you haven’t given up on love?” Davii asked.

“No. But don’t let that get around. Unless you happen to run into Lenny Kravitz.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Davii promised. He fingered one of Vienna’s curls and said, “I’ll bet Lenny would love a woman with braids.”

“With red extensions woven into them?” Vienna asked hopefully.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Davii repeated. “By the way, how is that friend of yours from work? Darren?”

“Derek?”

“The guy you brought by the salon?”

“That would be Derek,” Vienna confirmed. “He’s all right. I guess. I haven’t had much time to talk to him. He’s been in seminars learning how shoes are made.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Davii said dryly.

“No more fascinating than learning about lipstick and mascara. Anyway, once we’re settled into our new jobs—”

“You’ll quit and get a new one,” Davii interrupted. “You’ve had thirty different jobs in two years. All in this mall, too.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that many. Besides, if I hadn’t quit that job at the Fabric Mart, I wouldn’t have gotten a job as a receptionist in your salon, and I wouldn’t have met you. My job-hopping paid off, so lay off.” Vienna suddenly thought to ask, “Why are you asking about Derek?”

Davii examined his cuticles and said, “I don’t know. You’ve never brought a co-worker to meet me before, so I was curious.”

“Not to mention he’s cute,” Vienna added.

“Yes. There’s that. Is he single?” Davii asked.

“No. It’s not like I was presenting you with a gift.”

“Should I let that stand in my way?”

Vienna paused in thought. Finally she said, “I don’t know enough about his relationship to answer you, but I don’t think he’s looking for a rendezvous in the parking garage.”

“Who says that’s what I’m looking for?” Davii asked.

Vienna eyed him a minute, then said, “All this interest on the basis of one brief meeting?”

“I’m good at reading people,” Davii said. “It goes with my job.”

“Speaking of your job—”

“You only keep me here for your hair,” Davii said. “Let’s get started.”