Lauren Takes Leave Gerstenblatt, Julie (classic literature list txt) 📖

I stop, considering.

Perhaps there’s a way to fill out ballots in Jodi’s favorwithout actually, you know, purchasing them, thereby keeping my promiseto Doug as well as the one to Jodi.

Stuffing my money back into my clutch, I quickly head intothe ballroom one more time, looking for my favorite partner in crime.

“Ballots!” I whisper to Kat, pulling her away from a tall,dark and handsome waiter. She doesn’t look amused. “Grab all the ballots youcan find!”

“What are you doing?” Then, taking in my crazed look andmy hands full of pink slips of paper, she asks again, slowly, as if she knowsthe answer perfectly well. “What. Are. You. Doing?”

I dig through my clutch for a pen, and, finding two, handone to her. “We’re filling ’em out.” I scribble Jodi Moncrieff on my twoand look around for more. “All of ’em.”

As Leslie starts her number—a surprisingly non-sexy,non-bitchas dance to the Talking Heads’ “And She Was”—Kat and I move stealthilyout of the darkened room and into the hallway, collecting and filling out thepile of extra, pink ballots that sit unguarded at the now-unmanned check-intable. When both my fist and mouth are full of paper, I slink back into theballroom and stuff them into a waiting ballot collection box.

And then I go out and gather some more.

Of course, the voting is not supposed to be done until allseven of the contestants have danced. But, do people always wait until the endof a trial before deciding who is to be awarded compensation? Of course not.So, let’s just think of Dancing with the Stars of David as a huge caraccident, and rightly find in favor of Jodi Moncrieff.

When I approach Leslie’s table, another idea forms, thisone perhaps even more brilliant that the last.

“Hey, Kat,” I whisper, standing in the corner behind tableseven. “Come here.”

She moves through the darkness and joins me, pushing hermop of curls from her flushed face. “Yo. This is fun!”

“Leslie’s family is here.”

“Yup.”

“I mean, no one is at the Koches’ household right now.It’s sleepy. It’s empty.”

“You sound moronic.”

“I’m trying to make a point!”

“So make it!”

“Shh!” someone chastises.

I point to the ballroom doors and Kat follows behind me.Right before exiting, we get a glance at a not-too-flattering shimmy ofLeslie’s rear as she jitterbugs across the floor.

The light seems bright in the hallway after slinkingaround the dim outer rim of the ballroom. I squint at Kat. “Thanks to us,Jodi’s going to win this ‘dance competition,’ right? So she doesn’t need usanymore this evening. I figure we have about forty-five minutes to get Doug,drive down to Hadley, get the nanny cams, and come back to Beth El by dessert.”

Kat is blinking her green eyes at me, shaking her headback and forth. She speaks very slowly. “So…you mean…we’re planning a stealthrecovery operation involving the breaking and entering of Leslie’shome residence, while working under the alibi of having been at Dancingwith the Stars of David?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

“Now, that’s what I’d call a Saturday night!” Kat tossesme the keys to my car. “Let’s collect your husband and commit some pettylarceny!”

“I was thinking more like, let’s help save our own asses.”

“Yeah, that, too,” she says, the glow of her BlackBerrylighting up her face as she starts tapping. “Totally.”

Chapter 33

I leave Kat and the car idling while I run into Starbucksto (hopefully) retrieve my husband. My heart lifts at the sight of Doug seatedat a round table in the corner, staring out a window.

There’s hope, then.

I quietly exhale, letting out air that I’d probably beenholding in since he emerged from behind that fig tree at the temple.

Don’t fuck this up, Lauren.

He doesn’t notice me, so, before announcing my presence, Itake a moment to study him in profile.

His skin, usually a deep olive, looks washed out underthis lighting. His eyes have developed creases in the corners, matching the wrinklesin his rolled-up shirtsleeves. He reaches up with one hand and rubs his stubbleabsentmindedly.

Doug shaves twice a day with a four-blade razor, andstill, it’s not enough.

I love that I know that about him.

I approach his table and say the first thing that comes tomind. “I’m an idiot.”

Doug shakes his head in agreement. “True as that may be,it’s not an excuse.”

“No, it’s not an excuse.” I pull out a chair and sitacross from him. He lets me, which I take as a sign to continue. “I could saythat I was drunk. Which is true, but, again, it’s not an excuse.”

He continues to rub at the stubble on his jawline. “I hatethat you kissed him. It disgusts me, and I’m not sure how or when I’ll ever getthat image out of my head.”

I nod. My eyes well up with tears, but I say nothing.

“But I think…I hate more the fact that you deceivedme. That you came back from Miami and told me everything but that. Ihave to wonder, if I hadn’t overheard you talking to Kat, would you ever hadtold me the truth?”

I am not sure what to say to this.

“And then I have to wonder, what else are you keeping fromme?” His bloodshot eyes hold mine.

I think about the position as chair of the English Department,that infamous job I did not get and now don’t even want.

I think about how tired I am, keeping track of everyone’sschedules, of constantly buying ridiculous birthday presents for ridiculousbirthday parties, of washing dishes and folding laundry that my hired helpdoesn’t.

I think about the ways in which I sometimes ignore mychildren’s bad behavior, giving in to their whines and complaints just to shutthem up.

Just to make all the noise stop.

These are among the few details I overlooked in myoriginal confession to my husband.

“There are a few things,” I begin. “Nothing as bad as theLenny issue.” I can’t bring myself to say, “kiss” to Doug.

“Things like…?” He arches his eyebrows.

“I may have visited Georgie Parks.”

“Professor Georgina Parks? At Harvard?” he asks.“When?”

“Wednesday.” I shrug, a smile forming on my lips. I try tobite it back.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because of a sweater.” I’m sort of laughing now, hearinghow it sounds, remembering the week. I brush a tear away