Diamond Girl Page 2

  “Mom, you never do anything just for you,” she had stated, “It pisses me off, too.”

  “Why would it piss you off?”

  “Because Daddy indulges himself and you never do anything just for you.”

  I had argued that her father loved working out; buying new clothes for himself and preening about. I just wasn’t sure I would get that much enjoyment or satisfaction from it.

  “At least you should try,” she had argued, “You need a hobby of some sort besides looking after me and Daddy; especially now that I am going away. I worry about you, Mom.”

  “I will be fine, Lindsey. I swear that I will find something outside of the home to do once you’re gone, okay?”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, Lindsey,” I had replied, laughing. “You do realize that you are a nag, right?”

  I wiped the countertop off thinking about my beautiful daughter. I missed her terribly. I knew that I would. We were close, very close. She had made everything over the years worth it. Jack loved her; that was abundantly clear. Perhaps that was all that I could have hoped for under the circumstances.

  I had wanted more children; however Jack would not budge on that topic. He had gotten a vasectomy when Lindsey was seven years old due to my pressuring him for another. He came home one day and said I could put my diaphragm away (not that it had gotten much use anyway). He had taken care of the problem; one child was enough. Jack had come from a family of four children; they had struggled financially. He had been the oldest and when his father had taken off when he was just twelve years old, he had borne a lot of the responsibility while his mother worked two jobs. She had finally remarried when Jack was sixteen, but by then, he had had his fill of caring for his younger siblings. Jack had not gotten on with his stepfather either. Even now, he had very little to do with his family.

  The phone rang. I picked it up in the kitchen.

  “Busy?”

  “Hi, Bren; just finished up the dinner dishes. What’s up?”

  “Not much. George is in Chicago on business for a couple of days; wondered if you wanted to hang out tomorrow. I figured you might be having ‘Lindsey’ withdrawals.”

  My friend knew me too well.

  “That sounds great. I’ve been thinking I am in dire need of having a spa afternoon. What do you think?”

  “Let’s do it,” she said. “Meet me at Cappelli’s at noon. We’ll do lunch first.”

  I was showered, wearing my sexiest nightgown and reading a book on my iPad when Jack came to bed. He was fresh from the shower, his brown locks still damp.

  “Tired?” I asked.

  “I am beat,” he said, pulling the covers up and fluffing his pillow. “The light doesn’t bother me, though. Go ahead and read.”

  I closed my iPad and set it on the nightstand. I switched the lamp off next to it and rolled over scooting close to Jack.

  I lowered my lips to his, kissing them gently. He wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me closer, his tongue briefly tracing my lips.

  “Good-night, Sammie.”

  “Jack, I kind of thought maybe we would make love tonight. It’s been awhile.”

  “Samantha,” he sighed, a bit of impatience in his tone. “I told you how beat I am tonight; rain check?”

  “Sure,” I said, rolling away from him. “I love you, Jack.”

  “Love you.”

  I lay in the darkness, a single tear had escaped and rolled down my cheek. Within minutes, I heard Jack’s even breathing signaling that he was sleeping. What the hell was wrong with me? Brenda said I was still gorgeous. That presumed I had been gorgeous as a teen or as a twenty-something. I figured best friends were obligated to say things like that. Jack had never said that to me, though. I wanted Jack to think I was beautiful, or ravaging or goddam sexy.

  My thoughts went back to the honeymoon cruise my parents had given us. Jack had been attentive then; he had romanced me, charmed me and we had sex every day of the cruise, sometimes even twice. The sex was not as I had expected. Jack avoided kissing during sex; he had a tendency to be a bit rough. I attributed it to the fact that Jack had been pressured into marrying me; still, I loved him for whatever reason.

  Once we had returned from our honeymoon I had busied myself decorating our new condo; buying baby furniture and outfitting the nursery.

  Jack’s family hadn’t bothered to acknowledge our marriage or the birth of our daughter; they did however, hit us up periodically for money.

  My father had started Jack out at a very generous salary. Money had never been an issue for us, though I suspected this was all new for Jack. He loved having money and sometimes flaunted it a bit when he got together with his buddies while they were home on summer breaks from college.

  Jack’s mother and step-father had come to the hospital to see Lindsey shortly after her birth. Jack’s mother, Louise, had commented that Lindsey was probably set for life. It was a strange comment. I had looked over at Jack to see his reaction to her comment. He had remained impassive to it. The truth was I think Jack somehow enjoyed the fact that we were financially comfortable in life and that the rest of his family continued to struggle. I knew deep inside that was the only reason he had allowed my father to force our marriage. Jack was set for life, too.

  I turned over on my side, clutching my pillow beneath me. Why had I settled, though? Perhaps contentment was all that mattered to me. I had busied myself with Lindsey and her activities; Jack had participated as well. He had coached her softball team; never missed her soccer games, school concerts or plays. He had taught her how to drive; was extremely protective of her when she had started dating and even took her to Cornell for freshman orientation. I knew that he loved Lindsey. I just couldn’t figure out why he had never come to love me.

  I finally drifted off to sleep; the feeling of loneliness and uncertainty gnawing within me.

  CHAPTER 2

  Brenda and I spent a lovely afternoon at the spa. We were massaged, given facials, waxed, manicured and pedicured. We were now sitting in the sauna, white towels wrapped turban-style around our hair, another wrapped around our torsos.

  “Now this is just what the doctor ordered, right Sam?”

  “Yeah. It does feel great.”

  “Come on; talk to me, Samantha.”

  I knew that Brenda would not let up until I shared whatever I was feeling with her. She knew me too well.

  “It’s just that with Lindsey gone I have nothing, Brenda. I need something of my own. I even promised Lindsey I would find it.”

  “Okay, I get it. Lindsey is right, you know? I just can’t figure out why you had to hear it from your daughter. How many times have I told you the same thing?”

  I got up from the bench and dipped the wooden ladle into the bucket of water, pouring it over the hot stones. I took my place back on the bench, pulling my knees up, resting my chin on them.

  “I don’t know, Bren. I guess it was easier not to think about myself as long as I had Lindsey to take care of and to occupy my time with her activities.”

  “That’s kind of a lot of bullshit, you know?”

  I looked over at her quickly. Where was this coming from?

  “You haven’t had to take care of Lindsey for quite some time, Sam. She just didn’t suddenly go from diapers to college in a day. You chose to fill your time over the past eighteen years by caring for her as an infant then an adolescent; but face it, once she hit her teen years it was more of you and her buddying around together.”

  “I’m not sure if I understand what you are saying, Brenda.”

  “What I am saying is that once Lindsey reached the point where she was independent, you know - dating, going to dances and parties, you kind of lived your life vicariously through her. I mean come on, think about it.

  All of the photos you took, the scrapbooks you made, the video journals you created to document the sports she played, the hobbies she had. What about you always being one of the chaperones on the class trips she took th
roughout high school?”

  “What about it?” I asked, feeling myself get defensive.

  “All I am saying is that I can see why you are suddenly out of sorts with what to do next. You can’t plan your life around Lindsey’s anymore. You need to find a life of your own.”

  “What do you suggest, Brenda? It’s different with you. You still have your two kids at home.”

  “Yes, but I still have my own life, too.”

  I thought about it and it was true. Everything that Brenda was saying was true. I had centered my life on Lindsey’s. I had not developed any interests or hobbies of my own. My only social activities, outside of volunteering at Lindsey’s high school were occasionally hanging out with Brenda, or Jack and I having dinner with my parents. My father was retired now. He and my mother traveled quite a bit so even seeing them socially was rare these days.

  “You’re right, Brenda. I need to focus on myself. Jack has been nagging me to finish decorating the house. I guess I could throw myself into that.”

  Brenda rolled her eyes and sat up from her reclining position.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about something for you, Sam. You aren’t in to decorating. Let Jack decorate if it’s so damn important to him.”

  She shook her head as if she was becoming impatient with my cluelessness.

  “Brenda - I don’t know what you want me to stay? I agree with you, okay?”

  “You’re not getting it, Sam. Your daughter is off to college, so what? You are going to try and build some kind of life around that ‘mannequin’ husband of yours?”

  I was taken aback. Brenda had never taken such a harsh attitude with me, ever! She had always stood by me through anything as far back as high school. She was Lindsey’s godmother for Christ’s sake. Why was she giving me shit? I didn’t respond to what she said. I grabbed my thongs putting them on my feet and exited the sauna room, heading for the showers.

  Once showered, I dressed and headed out the front to pay the bill. Brenda was just a couple of minutes behind me. I paid our spa bill, though Brenda protested when I picked up her tab as well. I was signing the credit card slip when I saw a stack of business cards on the counter in a holder that was labeled, “Take One.” I did, not even sure what the card said but I liked the artwork on it. It was a slender woman in a kick-boxing pose. I shoved it into my wallet and headed out the door.

  “Samantha, please,” Brenda called after me, “Stop. I need to explain.”

  I stopped on the sidewalk outside to look at her.

  “Look,” she said, “All I am saying is that you need to do something for you, Sam. Get a job, go back to school, and take art lessons. Start living for yourself because you never have and it hurts me to see that you have no identity of your own.”

  “Gee, thanks Brenda, I think. Perhaps my fate is to just be a wife mannequin,” I hissed.

  “I won’t apologize for that, Sam. You know how I feel about Jack. I’ve never pretended otherwise.”

  She was being honest about that. Brenda had little use for Jack. She considered him to be self-absorbed, demanding and unable to bond or to be intimate with a woman.

  I wasn’t sure how qualified she was to make such a diagnosis but I felt it was likely due to my intermittent complaints about him over the years. Perhaps it was my fault that Brenda had developed the opinion she had of Jack; I never shared with her the good things about our life together.

  “I know Bren - I know that you’ve never cared for him but he is my husband; Lindsey’s father.”

  “Just think about what I said, okay? I’ve got to run now; I’m late picking up Shawn from football practice. Call you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah later,” I said, suddenly absorbed in the business card that I had picked up inside. The name of the establishment was ‘Foxy & Fierce Body Shaping Shop’. It boasted several types of martial arts training, along with kick-boxing and yoga classes. Why the hell not?

  I located Foxy’s in a somewhat seedy neighborhood not far from campus. I decided that if everyone in there was Lindsey’s age, I would turn around and leave. There was always the YWCA.

  Once I stepped inside the doors, I was pleasantly surprised. The receptionist looked to be about the same age as my mother, but holy hell was she ever fit.

  “Hey sweetie,” she greeted me, “What can I do you for?” I noticed her name tag read ‘Vonda'.

  “Vonda,” I said with more enthusiasm than I had felt for quite some time, “I want a body like yours.”

  CHAPTER 3

  It had been nearly four weeks since I had started my membership at Foxy’s. I had lost a total of twelve pounds and dropped two sizes. My sweats were practically falling off of me. The part that I was most proud of, however, was the muscle tone that I had developed both in lower and upper body.

  The kick-boxing was awesome for building muscle tone in the legs; my other workouts included lifting with free weights for arms and shoulder toning, along with a Pilate's class for torso and abs. I had been spending about four days a week at ‘the gym’. I hadn’t told Jack any more than that. He had mumbled an obligatory, ‘That’s great, Sammie,’ not bothering to feign interest.

  I had just wrapped up my workout for the day and showered when Vonda came into the locker room looking for me.

  “Glad I caught you, Sam,” she said. “We need one more person to sign up for pole-dancing lessons. The instructor has a minimum in order to meet what she charges. I figured you’d be perfect.”

  “Pole dancing? Me?”

  “Why not you? You’re pretty damn limber and it’s a hell of a way to build up your biceps and triceps that you’re always whining about, sweetie.”

  “I know, but Vonda, come on. Don’t you think I’m a little bit old for that type of . . .?”

  “I think the word you are looking for is ‘exercise’, Sam. Good grief, it’s not stripping. It’s a great dance art form; and to answer your question, no. I’m on the roster. Do you think I’m too old?”

  Vonda had me there. At fifty-six years old, there wasn’t too much that Vonda couldn’t do. Maybe it wasn’t out of the question. After all, I had taken three years of ballet under the tutelage of Madame LeBlanc when I was in grade school. She had told me I had natural grace. I had taken it to appease my mother who insisted on lessons of some sort during my formative years.

  “Okay Vonda, I’m in. When does it start?”

  Vonda was tickled pink that we had enough members signed up to bring in who she claimed was the ‘Queen of Pole Dancing.’ The instructor’s name was Ginger Cooper and she had actually won a third place trophy in the Midwest Pole Dancing Competition the year before.

  The lessons started the following week and were daily for the following two weeks. I had no clue that pole dancing was recognized globally as a competitive sport and art form. I had always regarded it as being a second cousin to stripping. Boy, had I been misguided.

  Ginger was extremely talented and driven; she expected no less from her students. She was brutal in her training and assessments.

  After the second day of lessons, I had told Vonda I was contemplating dropping out; I could barely move a muscle. It had certainly burst my ‘I’m in great shape’ bubble. My God, I hadn’t known the muscles that were now feeling a slow, burning pain even existed.

  “No you are not,” Vonda stated, in her very authoritative tone. “If I can hang with it, you sure as hell can, Sammie. Besides, you are doing great.”

  “How do you figure, Vonda? You heard Ginger today telling me to get the lead out of my gluteus maximus while she was instructing us on the ‘snowflake’ or ‘pretzel,’ or whatever the hell she called it.”

  “She’s tough I know; but really Sammie, you’re doing great. Hey, I bet your husband would love a pole dance demo once you finish this class.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said, getting clothes out of my locker. “He hasn’t even noticed my new svelte body,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

  “What’s his
problem?”

  “I guess he doesn’t find me attractive anymore; maybe he never did,” I replied with a shrug.

  “Humph,” Vonda said, shaking her head. “You are gorgeous; you do realize that, right? I hope to God you don’t see yourself from his clueless eyes, Sammie.”

  “You’re required to say stuff like that to paying members right Vonda?”

  “You are so full of shit, girlie,” she replied, still shaking her head. “I hope to Christ you wake up and smell the coffee one of these days. That’s all the pep talk you’re getting from me - today. I’ll see your ‘getting tighter’ ass in here tomorrow for our lesson.”

  I started to say I wouldn’t be coming, but then I thought about it. Maybe Vonda was right; maybe I did have potential. Maybe I would give Jack a demo when classes finished. Maybe he would even want to touch me again.

  I stopped by Brenda’s on my way home. I hadn’t talked to her in the last couple of weeks. She knew I was totally wrapped up in my ‘exercise’ classes as she called them; she was simply relieved that I was finally doing something just for me.

  “Holy shit,” she said, her eyes widening as she held the door open for me. “You’ve lost a ton of weight, Sam. You look fantastic!”

  “Thanks Bren,” I said, rolling my eyes. I didn’t do well with compliments. It was probably because I wasn’t used to getting them.

  “No, I mean it. Your damn body looks like a teenager’s. What type of exercise class is it? Maybe I will join you.”

  “It’s kick-boxing and Pilates, Bren; I just added pole-dancing to it.”

  “Oh God! There is no way I could hang with that; but Sam, it looks so freaking good on you! I bet Jack is drooling, right?”

  “He thinks I look great,” I lied.

  “I bet the mannequin hasn’t even noticed, right?”

  Brenda knew me so well; she seemed to know Jack much better.

  “You know, he’s been pretty busy these days. He’s been traveling for work quite a bit. We barely see one another.”