Chapter 13

"So ... are you gonna take you-know-who on another romp through the city?" Darcy inquired. Her voice contained equal parts curiosity and concern.

"He wants to, and I want to," Angela replied distantly as she popped another Tic-Tac into her mouth. "Problem is, he can't let his other half get suspicious."

Angela and Darcy rarely had the chance to go on break at the same time, but this slow Wednesday afternoon was an exception. As four o'clock approached, both of them had decided to enjoy the transient lull. Both had a late afternoon and early evening full of appointments.

Darcy's initial reaction to Angela's night out on the town with Mark had been full of unrestrained laughter and remarks like "You're kidding!" and "No fucking way!" After some time went by and all the details had been hashed out, however, more serious issues had started to creep into their frequent one-on-one conversations. Both of Darcy's marriages had ended in divorce, and she was becoming concerned that her friend was choosing to ignore the less attractive aspects of the overall picture.

"Angela, don't take this the wrong way," she began.

"Uh oh. Here comes a lecture."

"No ... no ... not a lecture. That's not how I want this to sound. I'm just curious. How much do you know about his wife?"

Angela hesitated, and then spoke with a trace of defensiveness in her voice. "Not a whole hell of a lot. But it's better that way. It lets me..." Unable to finish the thought, her voice petered out.

Darcy supplied the missing words. "It lets you sustain the illusion."

Angela, as quiet as she ever got, said nothing. She knew that Darcy was right, and on top of that, speaking from experience.

"I've been burned by the other woman, Angela," Darcy went on. "Remember, there's a third party involved here. Now ... no matter what you do, I'm with you a hundred percent. You know that. And I like Mark ... he's good-looking, smart and funny. But I just wanna give you something to think about."

"I'm not trying to steal him from his wife. I just think he's a nice guy, and I'm having fun. That sounds pretty bad," Angela managed a laugh, "but that's the way it is."

Having made her point, Darcy eased up a bit, and took on a facetious tone. "Besides, you're twenty-four years old. He's an old man. You never know when his sex drive will all of a sudden go bye-bye." She giggled, and affectionately patted Angela on the shoulder.

"Sometimes I forget how old he is," Angela mused. "He still remembers what it's like to be young." Then, her face grew serious, and her voice wistful. "If my dad - and my mom, for that matter - were like that, I wouldn't have run away from home at sixteen."

"Does Mark know about that?"

"No," Angela said, casting her gaze down at the pavement. "No ... he doesn't need to know about that."

A diversion then materialized; a most welcome one from Angela's point of view. "Your four o'clock appointment is here," Darcy smiled.

"Mrs. Crawford!" Angela squealed happily in the direction of the short, chunky woman in her fifties now approaching them. Angela ran up and gave her a hug; Mrs. Crawford was one of her favorite customers. "I didn't know you were coming in today."

"Maybe you should check the appointment calendar once in a while," Darcy cracked. But she, too, was grateful to veer away from the heavy subject matter which comprised the single blot of melancholy on Angela's almost uniformly fun-loving, happy disposition.

Twenty minutes later, the salon was rocking with activity and laughter. Mrs. Crawford was seated at Angela's station, Darcy had a customer of her own in front of her, and the other three hair stylists on duty were similarly engaged. A number of walk-in customers, all female, now populated the waiting area, which was rapidly filling up. It was a compact, intimate, girls-only atmosphere, and Angela and Darcy knew just how to work it.

A momentary interlude in their comedy routine took place as Mrs. Crawford began to talk about a novel she was thinking about writing. "I didn't know you were a writer," Angela remarked, duly impressed. "Actually, I hope to write a book of my own one day. I'll call it Angela's Love Manual."

When the resulting mirth died down, Darcy fired off a zinger. "I can't wait to read the chapter titled Creative Uses for a Sleeping Bag."

A telling embarrassed smile immediately crossed Angela's face, which tipped off all present that Darcy had just scored big time. Another wave of laughter swept through the ersatz audience. "Hey, look, everyone," Darcy shouted above the commotion. "Angela's blushing!"

"Angela does not blush." She glared at Darcy and drew a line across her throat, the universal gesture which says "cut it out", but she was grinning from ear to ear through clenched teeth. Leaving her station and Mrs. Crawford for just a moment, she walked over to the sink and collected a handful of water, which she flung in Darcy's direction.

One of the other stylists, an older lady who was following the entire exchange with as much amusement as the rest, called out in a mock authoritative tone, "Girls, girls. This is a salon, not a sorority house. There'll be no water fights in here."

Returning to her station, Angela found an inquisitive Mrs. Crawford. "A sleeping bag? This sounds juicy. Do tell, Angela."

"Love you to death, Mrs. Crawford, but I'll never say a word." Then turning back toward Darcy, she called out, "I owe you for that one, Darce. Just you wait." And thus did the back-and-forth verbal jousting between the two good friends, enhanced for public consumption, commence once again.

Later, as Mrs. Crawford paid up at the register and scheduled her next appointment, she said to Angela, "I come here to get my hair done. But you know what? I also come to watch The Darcy and Angela Show. It's funnier than anything on TV."

The front door to the duplex unit swung open, and Shauna struggled wearily inside, dropping eight plastic bags stuffed with groceries onto the floor with a loud thud. Several more still remained out in the car. "Momma," she called out. She needed help with putting away the food, but more than that, she needed the loving touch that only a mother can provide after what had been a terribly tiring day.

Upon leaving work that afternoon, Shauna had hurried home and gathered up her three boys. One had basketball practice; one had to go to work; and the third needed to visit the library, and none of the three locations were close to each other. After driving all over town, she'd dropped off some clothes at the dry cleaners, put some gas into her well-traveled automobile and then visited the grocery store. After loading up on foodstuffs for a household of five, she'd gone back to pick up the basketball-playing son and transported him to the library, as well, which he also needed to visit for a school project. Now, it was almost eight o'clock, and Shauna had arrived home for what she figured would be only a brief stay. She still had to make one more circuit of the city, round up the boys, bring them home and feed them dinner. And before she could do that, the bags she'd dropped on the floor, and those still out in the car, contained a multitude of frozen and refrigerated items that would start to defrost if they weren't put away soon. And in spite of all this, she wanted to get to bed early, something that she was finding more and more difficult to do. Of course, getting to work early in the morning was a high priority for Shauna, and the inconveniences associated with it were becoming unmanageable.

Ruby Owens knew her daughter well enough to recognize the plaintive, desperate tone in Shauna's voice, even though she'd only uttered one word. "What's the matter, baby?" she said, the concern in her voice evident, as she took two of the plastic grocery bags by the handles, and started for the kitchen.

"I'm exhausted, Momma," Shauna answered, her voice already beginning to waver. She started to pick up the remaining six bags, and then settled for two as she followed Ruby into the kitchen. After several trips back and forth, and a couple of visits to the car, the two of them got the food indoors and the frozen items put away. They went into the living room, and sat down on the sofa. Only then did the conversation continue, allowing Shauna to finally let loose a torrent of emotions that she'd kept a lid on up till now.

Tears began to well up in her eyes as she spoke. "My entire being revolves around the early morning. It has my whole life turned upside down. And he's going out to California for a business trip all next week. I don't know what I'll do." The use of the third-person masculine pronoun was sufficient; Ruby knew exactly who "he" was.

By now, Shauna was fighting back sobs as she tried to speak. "I'm falling for him, Momma. I know I can't let that happen. But it is, and I don't know how to stop it. I know this can't last ... I mean, I know there's no future in this relationship. I can't bear the thought of ending it, but..." She hesitated, and then began to sob uncontrollably as she leaned sideways and let her head fall into her mother's lap.

Ruby was silent; she stroked her daughter's hair gently. She wanted for Shauna to talk it out, and come to a conclusion on her own. Shauna rose up, looking her mother in the eye, and mustered up a brief splash of feistiness. "I pride myself on being level-headed. How could I let it get this far? How could I?" She let her head fall back down and continued to cry into Ruby's lap.

After a few minutes, Shauna regained enough composure to voice the tentative decision she'd reached over the past few days. "I have to end it. I have to. There's no way around it. Maybe I'll talk to him after he gets back from California. But this can't go on much longer." She sat up and reached for a tissue.

Sensing that Shauna still had more to say, Ruby continued to keep her tongue in check. "I don't know what I'll do to fill the void in my life," Shauna went on, her voice becoming stronger, the desperation being replaced with sullen resignation. "I've encountered many challenges in my life, but this is one that I just don't know how to deal with."

Ruby finally spoke. "You have every right to pride yourself on being level-headed. Those were some wise words that just came from your mouth. I've been waiting to hear them from you for a while."

"But what will I do? I can't imagine..." Shauna's voice trailed off; she felt the tears coming on again, but she fought to keep them in check.

"What you need to do, more than anything, is take some time for yourself. You haven't done that for years. Learn to pamper yourself, instead of relying on someone else to do it for you."

"I have three sons to raise, and you to take care of, and that is my first priority. You know that."

"I can hold down the fort here for a couple of nights a week. And we'll talk to the boys, and get them to chip in a little more as well. Why don't you sign up for an aerobics class? You used to talk about doing that, and never got around to it. You'll make some new friends, and work off all that stress."