Diary of a bad housewife

Dairy of a bad housewife. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

When the phone rang, I grabbed it. My mother calls about fourteen times a day and the odds were it wouldn't be anybody else.

"Mom, it's not a good time to talk."

"Why? Is he abusing you?"

"No, we're having an argument."

"The brute. He's cheating on you, you know. Go though his pockets and cell phone; I bet you find women's phone numbers. When are you going to leave that lout?"

"He's not a lout, Mom, and he'd never cheat. He's a wonderful father and works hard. The kids adore him."

"Really? What does he do with his money, darling? He never buys you anything, nothing worthwhile. We always get you the best. Be it clothes, cars, or a catamaran on the Côte d'Azur, you deserve the finest."

"He does his utmost."

"Pish. He got you what kind of car? A Ford something for my daughter? Just wait, dear. I bet your father gets you an Escalade."

"Leave it alone, Mom. Who could afford the fuel anyway?"

"He should. I told you I lined up divorce lawyers waiting to pounce. They'll strip him bare. You say the word, my darling. God, I get so worked up thinking about it."

Six minutes later the phone rang again and I knew who it must be.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Precious, how are you? Your mother says that asshole is abusing you again."

"No, he's not. We had an argument."

"That son of a bitch. I tell you, Princess, I still have friends in high places, in and out of the military. One phone call from me, and that bastard will regret he was ever born."

"Daddy, don't ..."

"That prick will never father another child by the time I get through with him."

"Daddy, no."

"Listen, sweetheart. I'll pick you up Sunday morning. I want to stop by the Cadillac dealer."

"We've got church and then ..."

"Sunday morning. See you."

He hung up without saying goodbye. He likes doing that to people, even me, his own daughter. My father was an army major during Desert Storm who retired to work for Ross Perot. He still thought in terms of men and missions and terrified anyone who disagreed with him.

Colin, however, didn't terrify. That's one of the traits I admired most about him.

Downstairs I heard Colin working with our little monsters. Well, not monsters, really- they're darlings when I'm not having a bad day, and this day topped my recent list. I didn't mean to act the ogre.

I started feeling angry with Colin again, resenting I had to defend my husband to my parents, resenting I felt alienated. Let him clean up the kids, I thought. Serves him right. I gazed over at the wedding picture on our dresser. My mom was right: Next argument, I should throw Colin out.

Our marriage turned out a major betrayal and disappointment. Mother's a believer in Consumer Reports before she goes shopping. She says a girl should do as much when shopping for a husband. Mother and I picked Colin James with deliberate purpose in mind and he let me down.

In our city, the James family owned everything it seemed: the Jamestown Mall, the St. James Department Store, the Silas James Library, the Arthur James Historical House, James & Co. Shipping, James Road Industrial Park, the James & James Office Building, and of course the James River Manufacturing Corp. on the outskirts of town.

Colin told me he worked for James Realty Development. I thought that meant he was at least a partner. He certainly put in enough hours. Only after the wedding, did I learn the truth. How was I to know he wasn't in the capital gains bracket, that he actually worked for a living? And how was I to guess the mortgage market would collapse? Colin James, grandson of Ezekiel James III, was the one twig on the one family branch that hadn't inherited and therefore rolled up their sleeves and worked.

What a disappointment. After the honeymoon, I turned livid once I learned the truth. When I told Colin I wanted a huge house on the hill like the other James families, Colin blinked at me, fell back on the bed, and laughed. When he finally convinced me of the truth about his paltry finances, I raged.

"I know you couldn't have married me for my money," he'd said.

Duh. I fumed.

"If that's not a crime it should be," said my mother. "It's misleading like false advertising, like a Rockefeller not changing their name when they don't inherit. The rest of the James family who have money, maybe our lawyers can find a way to sue them."

"Get an annulment," advised my father. "Better yet, I've got a couple of ex-sergeant commando types who can crush him like a paper cup."

Always out of touch, my aunt Sadie counseled, "Make the most of your marriage. He's a nice boy. Who knows, you might find it's for the best."

That's when I learned I was pregnant. I couldn't believe it. My idiot husband got me pregnant on our honeymoon, for God's sake.

"Put the little bastard up for adoption," said my father. "Listen, a couple of Blackwater friends blew into town, came off mercenary duty in Iraq. They owe me a favor or two; we can teach that son of a bitch you married a lesson."

"Get an abortion," demanded my mother. "No, on second thought, maybe we can find a way to sue the James family for wrongful impregnation. Did he rape you? Tell me he did."

"Straighten yourself up," snapped my aunt Sadie. "Be a woman, be a lady or, better yet, be a good wife and mother. Suck it up like an adult, Julia."

"I never sucked anything in my life," I shouted at her. I meant to say 'sucked at', but in my upset, the Freudian slipped out whereupon my Aunt Sadie pounced.

"I can believe it. No wonder you're miserable. Grow up, girl. You've got a real world to live in, and if you let it, this can be the happiest time of your life."

I said a number of unladylike words to let her know what I thought of her opinion.

My aunt smiled at me sadly. She said, "I can see you have to learn the hard way."