Karolina Waclawiak - The Invaders

When the bill came, Lori said, “Split it down the middle!” And we did. I didn’t want to be the one shoving twenty dollars at them, saying that it was for my portion and looking cheap or, worse, poor. Jeffrey later lectured me about spending one hundred and fifty dollars on a sandwich, and that had been my first and last visit to the city. I threw the gifts away before he could see how foolish I had been.

“I did it last year and it was a disaster. My clothes were two sizes too small and I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. I still had to walk, though. They don’t choose you again if you run into trouble,” Christine said.

“It just seemed like a scheduling thing, that’s all.”

“Of course. It’s not you,” Christine said, patting my leg.

The models started down the makeshift runway and all the women started oohing and aahing at their friends, daughters of members, bridge partners, and golf-foursome girls. The fashion was coming to us, even if it was just from the downtown shops and featured the usual gauzy linen capris with hidden elastic waists, the tropical-colored knit separates accessorized with chunky necklaces, and the latest golf trends. They were starting with the golf fashions with breathable fabrics and I watched the models spinning and twirling in sherbet skorts. Some of them were really hamming it up.

“ ‘Look at Karen in her divine melon skort and athletic shell. Ladies, throw a cardigan over this look and you’ll be ready to go from golf course to main course in minutes,’ ” Mary Ann said, reading from a card.

There was clapping and laughter.

“Look at that gorgeous skirt,” Christine said. “Like I need another one.”

“I think Mary Ann said skort, but it’d look good on you,” I said. “Treat yourself.”

“Not with my hips. You, you have no hips, that would work on you.”

I looked at Karen as she took a fake swing with a tiny crook in her knees, illustrating the breathability of the fabric, and wondered if that shade of melon would make me look revived.

On their return, the parade of women raised their arms as if they were winners in some unspoken competition. They had been picked. They were models all of a sudden. The rest of us guzzled mimosas and fresh midmorning sangrias and filled out forms specifying what fashions we wanted to buy.

“These things really wear me out. All the fun. I need a nap and a benzo.”

“I don’t think they’re called that anymore,” I said.

“Whatever Larry calls them, I need one.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t mix alcohol with them,” I said.

“Oh, I do it all the time. They just have to say that. For the kids.”

Christine found what she was looking for at the bottom of her purse. Her husband was a doctor who medicated her so that she’d turn a blind eye to his side projects. We all knew it but didn’t say anything. No one took Christine’s hand and asked her if she was okay, we always just smiled politely and ignored her confused ramblings when we realized the dose for the day was too high. Although we were complicit in her humiliation, we were all very concerned with ignoring our own.

“Bunny, everybody!”

Bunny Fogherty, nearing seventy-five, walked with purpose, with long strides and an exaggerated head toss, as if she was born for this. Big chunky jewels glittered around her neck. The other models who came through all wore an enormous amount of dazzling costume jewelry, because they knew we needed to find a way to adorn ourselves while covering the crinkle of neck skin, the dotting of sun spots on our décolletage. They led with sparkle and the tables of women were awed. “I think Bunny’s found her new calling,” Mary Ann said. “ ‘This dress is straight from the Paris runways to you, ladies. Just because we live on the shoreline doesn’t mean we can’t be high fashion from time to time.’ ”

She smiled, looking up from her card.

I saw someone with scraggly hair wander through the bodies of waiting women and walk up to one of the waiters holding a tray of drinks. He peered around, confused, and I saw that it was Teddy and inhaled sharply. He was disheveled, glassy-eyed, and he was trying to get a drink off the tray as the waiter whooshed it away from him. I think I heard him say It’s for them. Teddy actually had the nerve to wink at a newer club member as she strutted by wearing a caftan poncho thing for rainy summer evenings.

“ ‘You never know when you’re going to get wet,’ ” Mary Ann breathed into the microphone.

What was he doing here? I waved to get his attention and instantly regretted it when I saw him barging his way through the pushed-together chairs to walk toward me.

“Yo, Cheryl. What the hell is this?”

All the other women turned around, and I thought I felt Christine grasp my hand in support. He sat down next to me and the women stared. He was wearing jeans.

“You guys are throwing fashion shows now?”

“It’s our own little Milan!” Christine said.

“You know you can’t wear jeans in the clubhouse,” I said.

“I’m locked out of the house.”

“Does your father know you’re home from school?” I asked.

Teddy laughed and said, “Nah. Who doesn’t like surprises?”

He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs wide as he watched the models go by. Everyone looked away and furiously scribbled their choices on the order forms.

“Is that Mrs. Picard?” Teddy whispered. I looked to where he was looking, which was at Debbie Picard, who was sending air kisses hurtling through the air. I was embarrassed for us all.

“That’s pretty good,” he continued.

We had paid the summer rent on his apartment in Dartmouth in full. What was he doing here?

“Are you just visiting?” I asked.

“I got kicked out. Do you have a key to the house?”

“What do you mean, kicked out?”

“Can you believe I don’t even have the key to my own house?” he asked Christine, smiling. I was mortified.

“It was a temporary thing,” I assured her.

“Revoked privileges,” he said.

We weren’t running a prison. He just could not be trusted at home when we weren’t there. I fumbled in my purse and then closed it. I started to tell him that the key was under the seashell near the front door and he got up before I could finish the rest.

Christine held my hand tightly and said, “It’s okay,” as if she knew what we were dealing with.

“See you at home, Cheryl. What’s for dinner?”

“The club, I guess. I hadn’t planned—”

“I’ll find pants,” he said and nearly knocked someone over trying to leave.

I looked around at the ladies and Christine said, “What a nice surprise!”

It wasn’t a nice surprise at all.

The models were standing around, waiting for their drinks as the sales reps from the various boutiques started infiltrating the crowd. Everyone was pulling out credit cards and eyeing each other’s selections. The whole process would take forever. I considered giving up on buying a new tennis skirt, but Christine said I absolutely could not leave without ordering one. It almost seemed like she was working on commission with the young, hungry girls.

I needed to go find Teddy.

TEDDY

LITTLE NECK COVE WAS an only-good-in-summer place. The streets were too narrow for cars, but drivers always tried it anyway and brought down tree branches as they passed. Everyone was playing at having old money here. Grandsons of presidents, cousins of senators, doctors and salesmen. Walking through this neighborhood made me want things suddenly — a reminder about success and what it got you. I didn’t have a family business to join, but there was a spot for me in a successful corporation that sold things to keep people alive. “All of this is for you if you want it,” my father always said. I didn’t have to be a doctor or a lawyer, too much school. But I could excel at selling. I didn’t really care if that pacemaker saved your ass; I just got off on getting people to listen to me and trust me.