Four girlfriends in the bar at a destination wedding, The ceremony took place at noon. They were killing time before the evening dinner-reception. Their friendships formed years ago, when they had lived at Fosdick Falls, home of an upscale New England college. Each had moved away. They were filling the gaps distance and years had created.
The venue prompted marriage as a likely topic. Each had left her spouse of the Fosdick Falls days. Philosophical Vicki led off: “When did you realize you were headed for divorce?”
Sandra wouldn’t play: “I hate these games. I’m going upstairs.” As she left the table she shot back, “Tom couldn’t see past the nose on his face.”
Undaunted, Vicki insisted on sticking to the theme. “Well, my honey Stuart couldn’t see himself. He hated teaching and did everything he could to wreck his career. One afternoon I found him asleep in his home office, skipping class. Word got back quickly—it always did so—he had left a note on the board: ‘Class cancelled due to circumstances.’ I realized right then that his joke hid the truth. His whole life, including me, was a circumstance he couldn’t endure.”
“That would have been too subtle for me,” said Kate. “ One night, Maury came home from the hospital. He had been fired as Director of Medicine. I was shocked. ‘Why?’ I demanded. He hemmed and hawed, hiding something. Eventually I dragged it out. Security had caught him screwing a nurse in an empty patient room. The same nurse he always talked to at our parties and at staff picnics.”
Frances stifled a polite laugh. “Sorry about Maury. At least you were playing on the same team. When Fred brought a ‘needy’ teenager home from the shelter on weekends, I was sympathetic at first. Then I caught Fred’s unguarded gaze at that beautiful boy. I’d been hiding from myself. Our marriage already had problems. Now I knew I was fighting something I couldn’t beat.”
“Let’s get back to Sandra,” insisted vindictive Vicki. “Why was she so huffy? How did Tom discover her ‘workouts’ with the college tennis coach?”
“It wasn’t that simple,” Kate exclaimed. “Don’t you remember the Halloween party when Tom showed up in a nose costume? He worked on that papier mache, skin-color, nose-shaped shell for months, insisting Sandra pose as a handkerchief. When Tom appeared in it, bobbing and weaving, everyone was amazed—for maybe ten seconds. Humiliated, Sandra waved the sheet-handkerchief around once, then fled with the bored group. Tom looked bewildered, peering out the eyeholes. He couldn’t understand his sight joke’s failure. Sandra had predicted it would be a bust, but single-minded Tom couldn’t ever listen to her. She was sick of him. Then the coach appeared.”
“You really think so?” asked Frances. “She didn’t love the coach, only shortsighted Tom. She gambled that jealousy would drive Tom to change. But snotty Tom couldn’t get over the coach. He couldn’t see past the nose on his face. Neither could she.”
The venue prompted marriage as a likely topic. Each had left her spouse of the Fosdick Falls days. Philosophical Vicki led off: “When did you realize you were headed for divorce?”
Sandra wouldn’t play: “I hate these games. I’m going upstairs.” As she left the table she shot back, “Tom couldn’t see past the nose on his face.”
Undaunted, Vicki insisted on sticking to the theme. “Well, my honey Stuart couldn’t see himself. He hated teaching and did everything he could to wreck his career. One afternoon I found him asleep in his home office, skipping class. Word got back quickly—it always did so—he had left a note on the board: ‘Class cancelled due to circumstances.’ I realized right then that his joke hid the truth. His whole life, including me, was a circumstance he couldn’t endure.”
“That would have been too subtle for me,” said Kate. “ One night, Maury came home from the hospital. He had been fired as Director of Medicine. I was shocked. ‘Why?’ I demanded. He hemmed and hawed, hiding something. Eventually I dragged it out. Security had caught him screwing a nurse in an empty patient room. The same nurse he always talked to at our parties and at staff picnics.”
Frances stifled a polite laugh. “Sorry about Maury. At least you were playing on the same team. When Fred brought a ‘needy’ teenager home from the shelter on weekends, I was sympathetic at first. Then I caught Fred’s unguarded gaze at that beautiful boy. I’d been hiding from myself. Our marriage already had problems. Now I knew I was fighting something I couldn’t beat.”
“Let’s get back to Sandra,” insisted vindictive Vicki. “Why was she so huffy? How did Tom discover her ‘workouts’ with the college tennis coach?”
“It wasn’t that simple,” Kate exclaimed. “Don’t you remember the Halloween party when Tom showed up in a nose costume? He worked on that papier mache, skin-color, nose-shaped shell for months, insisting Sandra pose as a handkerchief. When Tom appeared in it, bobbing and weaving, everyone was amazed—for maybe ten seconds. Humiliated, Sandra waved the sheet-handkerchief around once, then fled with the bored group. Tom looked bewildered, peering out the eyeholes. He couldn’t understand his sight joke’s failure. Sandra had predicted it would be a bust, but single-minded Tom couldn’t ever listen to her. She was sick of him. Then the coach appeared.”
“You really think so?” asked Frances. “She didn’t love the coach, only shortsighted Tom. She gambled that jealousy would drive Tom to change. But snotty Tom couldn’t get over the coach. He couldn’t see past the nose on his face. Neither could she.”
