the Bringing in…” she started to ask before being cut off by the woman two seats down shrieking when a waiter accidentally knocked a glass of water over, getting a few drops on her.
“Bitch,” she muttered way too loud after the server had left. Soon thereafter, all the men got up, kissed their wives, and said goodbye. Kyle gave Jessie a perplexed look but followed suit.
“I guess I’ll see you later?” he asked more than said.
She nodded politely, though she was equally confused. It felt like they were in that scene from Titanic, when all the menfolk left after dinner to discuss business and politics over brandy in the smoking room.
Jessie watched as the guys wandered among the tables until they reached an ornate wooden door in the corner of the room with a muscular, humorless man standing in front of it. He looked like a bouncer at a nightclub, only he wore a tuxedo. As the guys from their table approached, he stepped aside to let them pass. He seemed to give Kyle a skeptical glance until Teddy murmured something to him. The bouncer nodded and smiled at Kyle.
The rest of the brunch went by in a whirlwind. As Mel had promised, the conversation centered around children and children-to-be, as at least two of the women in the group were clearly pregnant.
“I’m just gearing up to bitch-slap the next barista who gives me a dirty look when I’m breastfeeding,” one named either Katlyn or Kaitlyn said. “I was way too accommodating after Warner was born.”
“Threaten to sue,” Brunette with Blonde Streaks said. “I did that and got a hundred-dollar gift certificate as an apology. The best part was that no one had done anything wrong. I just complained about an ‘environment of discomfort.’”
Jessie was the only non-mother at the table but tried to join in the discussion, asking polite questions about the local elementary school (“a dump”) versus the private one they all seemed to send their kids to.
As Jessie listened to the disagreements about the top daycare and preschool options and the general consensus about the best supermarket, she felt her mind wander. She pinched herself under the table a few times as opinions were voiced on good churches, the best local gym, and where to find a great dress for the Holiday Ball.
But eventually, she gave up trying to keep track of who was saying what, or even offering bland affirmations, and settled into the role of passive observer, as if she were watching the social behavior of some unusual species in the wild.
Is this the life I’ve committed to? Lunches with ladies that focus on which gym has the best spinning class? Is this the world Kyle has been jonesing to become a part of? If so, just kill me now.
At some point, she realized Mel was tapping her on the shoulder to let her know brunch was over and that she needed to collect Daughton. Apparently Teddy and Kyle would be meeting them in the lobby.
Jessie nodded, said gracious goodbyes to the women whose names she couldn’t remember, and blankly followed Mel to Pirate’s Cove. She felt disoriented and exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home, take a bath, have a glass of wine, and go to sleep. She glanced at her watch and was stunned to discover that it wasn’t even 1 p.m.
She didn’t get to decompress until hours later. After the walk back to the Carlisle house and the obligatory hangout there for a while, they finally headed back home. But not before a pit stop to Costco for essentials. Jessie imagined the disapproving faces of her brunch companions.
Later that night as she washed her face while Kyle brushed his teeth, they had recovered enough to debrief the day a bit.
“What happened in the secret room you went off to?” she asked. “Did they make you strip to your undies and give you ten lashes?”
“I was actually a little worried about what was behind that door,” Kyle admitted as they moved into the bedroom. “But it turned out to be essentially a really well-appointed sports bar. They had games on the TVs, a waiter walking around taking drink orders, and a few guys changing into or out of golf attire.”
“So no smoking room with brandy?” she asked, wondering if he’d get the reference.
“Not that I saw, although I did notice Leonardo DiCaprio wandering aimlessly through the dressing room.”
“Nice job, husband,” Jessie said appreciatively as she got into bed. “You’ve still got it.”
“Thank you, wife,” he replied, sliding under the covers next to her. “Actually, I heard there was a cigar room in there somewhere but I didn’t go looking for it. I think it’s hidden away in some corner that’s exempt from the club’s ‘no smoking’ rules. But I bet I could have gotten a brandy if I’d asked.”
“Meet anyone interesting?” she asked skeptically as she turned off the bedroom light.
“Surprisingly, yes,” he said. “They were all pretty cool. And since two of them were looking for potential investments, that made them interesting to me. I think that club could be a real resource for business leads. You?”
“Everyone was very nice,” Jessie said hesitantly, hoping the darkness of the room hid her furrowed brow. “Very friendly with all kinds of offers of help with anything I need.”
“Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”
“No. It’s just that not once in the time I was with them alone did one of those women talk about anything other kids, school, or family. No mention of their jobs or current events. It just felt very provincial.”
“Maybe they just wanted to avoid controversial topics at a brunch with someone new?” Kyle suggested.
“Jobs are controversial these days?”
“I don’t know, Jessie. Are you sure you’re not reading too much into an innocent gathering?”
“I’m not suggesting they’re Stepford Wives or anything,” she insisted. “But other than Mel, they were relentlessly narcissistic. I’m not sure that any of them ever give more than a passing thought to the world outside their windows. I’m just saying that after a while, it started to feel a little…claustrophobic.”
Kyle sat up in bed.
“That phrasing sounds familiar,” he said, concern in his voice. “Don’t get pissed at me. But the last time you talked about feeling claustrophobic was when—”
“I remember the last time,” she interrupted, annoyed. “This isn’t the same.”
“Okay,” he replied delicately. “But you’ll understand if I ask if you’re comfortable with your meds these days. Is the dosage still working? Do you think maybe you should schedule an appointment with Dr. Lemmon?”
“I’m fine, Kyle,” she said, getting out of bed. “Not everything is about that. Can’t I express some reservations without you jumping to conclusions?”
“Of course,” he said. “I’m sorry. Please come back to bed.”
“I mean, seriously. You weren’t there. While you were off chilling with the boys, I had a plastic smile on my face while these women talked about shaking down coffee shops. That’s not a medication issue. It’s a ‘these chicks are awful’ issue.”
“I’m sorry, Jess,” he repeated. “I shouldn’t
