had moved on to the yard where gardening allowed them to spend time on their knees in the dirt, no different than the wet vegetables they picked and let rot in baskets by the mudroom. Mark wondered if anything could ever relieve their silent, busy grief and resolved to be the achieving survivor for their benefit, but in equal measure he knew that massive financial success and a high, white collar job would allow him to be reborn into a world where none of this had ever happened.
Mark liked Karen because she had no idea how beautiful she was. She had raven hair and blue eyes and her body was fit yet still soft and curvy. When he asked his coworker who’d set them up how he could have left this detail out, the coworker revealed he’d never seen her. His wife knew her and said she was an 8, she’d actually said she was a 7 but he couldn’t tell that to Mark, especially after Mark had openly declared her a 10. The coworker was pleased but curious and when he finally met Karen at the Christmas party he was confounded by the fact that she was indeed very beautiful, although not a 10, and she did have a great rack.
The night Mark and Karen finally undressed before each other, he stared at her as she got up to get a robe and go to the bathroom. It was a bright moonlit night and her nipples were almost purple in the blue air, her skin so milky, her thighs so full and ankles so narrow. He thought he would never get tired of having sex with her and he took that thought very seriously and knew they would marry.
You might think a man like Mark who was not rich by 40 would never be rich, but he worked in a field of finance where a big score was still possible. While Mark and Karen were engaged, there was a promotion available which included a bonus that would have catapulted him into wealth. Now that they were a couple and enjoying the social fruits of dining with other couples and the joy of guaranteed company on New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s, they held the unspoken status of being on the verge of success. The promotion hung in the balance throughout the entire planning of the wedding and both of them were thinking how much bigger a party they could throw but also worrying that it might not happen and they could be in debt and Mark might even have to find another job.
Karen was prepared to give up her years accrued in publishing because it was a repetitive, gossipy business and she rarely had contact with writers. Also, she wasn’t exactly in publishing. It was the reason she came to New York, but the competition was impenetrable and so she migrated through temp work into the adjacent world of public relations, where in addition to the mild glamour of independent films and restaurant openings, she was brought tantalizingly close to a publishing house. Eventually, she told people she was in publishing because no one understood publicity, especially the freelance kind and someone had once misheard her and the reaction was noticeably more enthusiastic. Deeply behind the scenes, she booked travel and appearances for authors and editors and after once covering for her boss with a perfectly purchased apology of handmade chocolate and ash-striped cheese, she began to design themed gift baskets so specific and exquisite that many urged her to start her own business.
The praise she garnered in this unexpected sideline only highlighted her clear lack of enthusiasm and drive for the career she had fallen into. Unlike her boss, she was incapable of shaking her suburban manners or showing sudden charm to strangers with her sunglasses on her head and thus upon realizing that Mark might insist she change her profession to wife and mother, she was pleasantly excited. Karen knew that there were no housewives in Manhattan in the traditional sense and that she could be quite fulfilled by becoming a volunteer at the school, a nest builder, and a manager of servants.
When Mark was passed over two weeks before the wedding, Karen was crushed to the point that she debated if she could get out of it. As she sat in her kitchen in the middle of the night and wrote down the pros and cons on a piece of paper, she considered the horrible fact that maybe she was only marrying him for money. But she knew she was a better person than that. She knew that what she had come to know as love had become love when she was around him. She didn’t just want to have a child before it was too late; she wanted to have a child with him. That was very important; in fact, it was the only thing on the list she’d made and she was glad for the whole exercise and wondered why she had never been brave enough to distill her ambition on paper before.
Mark did become rich by any standard other than his own. At work he was known for having the enviable skill of recognizing when an asset was distressed. With stocks, bonds, real estate and especially companies, he was able to substantiate through mathematical analysis the lack of value that made things vulnerable and frequently gave tips that made money or at least encouraged trades. Nevertheless, it was not his talent that enriched him in the end, but his luck at being part of a group that shared a gigantic commission from landing a university endowment. And damn it if missing that promotion hadn’t almost ruined his wedding but he happened to be in the right place at the right time and they had a big year. And then they had another. And then they had another and he had plenty and there was no reason to worry anymore. He wasn’t the richest guy in New York, but he could still do most of the things that they did except for appearing in magazines.
He of course wanted more, at least enough for a country place and one of those awards people got for being generous to causes, but he felt lucky that Karen didn’t have social aspirations and took their wealth as a given as if she were born with it and had nothing to prove. He loved and even envied that about her and finally asked her about her natural inclination towards privacy and thus private satisfaction. One night, after a very expensive bottle of wine, while they lay spent in the after, Karen told Mark that other women had never used her as a measure because she easily receded in groups, most comfortable as an approving spectator. And yet she wondered to Mark, her voice soft, eyes welling, why this was not enough. She refused to gossip, having once been the subject of a particularly vicious rumor that claimed she had arrived and stayed at a summer beach house share without being invited. This rumor then evolved into the insinuation that her nose or her breasts were fake, painting her permanently as desperate. Why they had singled her out was a mystery to her but most likely the group had decided she was perfect for shouldering their insecurities, her natural shyness and silence having been perceived as confidence. As she rested her head on his chest, clasping him with her nakedness she revealed that like Mark, she had suffered from the cruelty of the mob, but she had come to understand that you could never see yourself the way others did, and it was okay to appear isolated as long as you remember that you are not the way you are seen.
Karen woke Mark on his 41st birthday with her head under the blankets and her mouth on him. After, when she came back from brushing her teeth, she curled up next to him and told him she was pregnant. Mark’s enthusiasm was immediate despite his depleted state but his feelings deepened as Karen spoke in a strategic tone about their need for a larger apartment. She had planned for a week to deliver the news that way and was giddy with relief that he reacted with sufficient excitement.
Mark enjoyed all of it: he was giving beautiful Karen the life she wanted, he was creating a family, a legacy; and what he enjoyed most was her shift from carnal to practical in the course of a few minutes. It made him want her again although he wasn’t sure if it was healthy in her condition. Karen laughed at him. She still thought he was funny and as they made love he noticed that her body had changed some to his liking. When she came he felt her drain of all anxiety as she disappeared into the warmth of expectation.
Karen’s pregnancy was uneventful with the exception of their move to a ten-unit apartment building west of Park Avenue, an area known as one of the last real neighborhoods in Manhattan. The 3-bedroom had no balcony but was one floor below the penthouse and had a view over the rooftops of brownstones with almost nothing postwar in sight and there was a chain coffee shop or optician on every corner and a grocery store that felt like an old-time market and a few tall buildings, which still had shiny brass elevator doors.
The co-op board was rigid and testy, and stalled until Mark recused himself,
