The Trophy Wife by Evie Baxter
Eighteen
Isla was in bed. We had had a quiet dinner, her full of the joys of the day and how wonderful Bastian had been. Me, listening to her happy chatter, not saying much other than the odd hum of agreement to keep her satisfied. She had fallen into bed, still exhausted from the day, a contented smile on her face.
Now I was sat in the dark, staring out the window at nothing, the mug of peppermint tea clutched in my hands cooling rapidly.
My panic attack had caught me by surprise. I really thought that I had conquered that evil. I wasn’t stupid. I knew I was damaged when I escaped my marriage and I had years of counselling to help me get back to being a moderately competent human. I decided that I needed to ring Sally, my former counsellor, in the morning and book an appointment to see her. Obviously, the idea of dating, of letting someone into my rather shielded life, was causing my anxiety levels to rise.
Which brought the question of whether I wanted to go on another date with Bastian to the fore. If I was so resolute in not seeing him, or anyone else, then why the angst? It was the fact that I was contemplating taking this further that was causing the upset.
Because I wanted to see Bastian again, as much as it scared the crap out of me.
Bastian tried callingme Monday lunchtime. I let the call go to message. As I did the next one, and the three more over the next couple of days. Damn, the man was persistent. He certainly didn’t seem to take offence at my constant rejection of his calls if he still kept trying.
I did go to see Sally. The freaking woman did a little cheer when I told her I’d had sex with Bastian. And she encouraged me to see him again, reinforcing the message that not all men were abusive and that I was not the same person who had been coerced into marriage by Robert. I was stronger, wiser, and more able to stick up for myself.
I was glad she thought so. Me? I believed in myself less than she did.
She reviewed my techniques to overcome a panic attack – similar to what Bastian had done with me – so if I had another and no one was around to help me, I could help myself. And she sat by my side while, with shaking hands, I messaged Bastian.
Sorry I missed your calls. If you’re still interested, we could meet for dinner in Banbury on Saturday night. Let me know if you want to. Tori
And she chortled with laughter when a reply came almost immediately.
Absolutely I would still love to meet up with you. 7pm at the Thai restaurant at the top end of Parson’s Street work for you? Bastian
He had already picked a restaurant. He’d had to have spent time looking up the various establishments for dining in town. And he was trying his damnedest to work within my limited parameters.
I looked at Sally to find her smiling softly at me. “Should I go?”
“That’s not my decision to make, Tori. You have to take responsibility for your own actions. You know this. You control your life. No one else. So what do you want to do?”
I knew what she was telling me. There was personal strength in taking charge of my own life when Robert had stolen all control from me. Deep down I knew this and had been doing this for five years, but I still looked at her and asked her rather than told her, “I’m going to go on a date?”
Her face broke out into a grin. “Yes, you are! Now message the poor man and put him out of his misery. There’s no harm in making him work for it but if you truly want to do this, you will have to meet him halfway more often than not, Tori. And if it doesn’t work out, that’s okay. It happens. All you have to do is open yourself up to the idea of a new relationship. Allow yourself the idea of having someone else in your life. Whether it’s this Bastian or someone else is neither here nor there. What’s important is you are finally ready.”
Sally gave me a massive hug before I left and told me she was always there for me if I needed to talk again. I walked out into the warm May day feeling like I had crossed a much bigger threshold on a personal level. So I messaged Bastian and confirmed I would see him Saturday at the Thai restaurant.
What the helldid you wear on a date? I stared at my limited wardrobe, full of casual, comfortable clothing suitable for parenting and hanging out with family, and little else. I had binned the black dress that I had worn in London. It had been bought for a specific purpose and I associated it with bad memories so didn’t want it in my closet.
There were a couple of sun dresses, but it wasn’t hot enough yet for that. And I didn’t want to wear anything even vaguely revealing.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I didn’t know how to date. The last time I was on a date it involved going to Nando’s with a fellow eighteen year old. He drank too much beer and threw up on the walk home. I was just getting interested in someone else when Robert barged into my life. One thing for sure, no matter how badly this date went with Bastian, it couldn’t be as bad as that one when I was eighteen. Could it?
It was time to call in the troops, because I didn’t have a clue. A quick phone call had my best friends since forever coming to my rescue. We had a three hour window before Isla finished school, and my mum on backup for school pickup in case we failed to make it home in time.
Lisa drove us down to Milton Keynes and we hit the shops.
“I can’t wear that! I’m a mum.” I looked at the dress Claudia was holding out for me to see with horror. I’d be flashing my fanny it was so short.
“What does being a mum have to do with looking sexy?” Lisa demanded. “Look at me. Three kids and I’m hot.”
To be fair, she did look good. She always looked good. My friend married her high school sweetheart and had their children in quick succession in her early twenties and her body bounced back from it all like some miracle. Other mums hated her for her trim body.
“And me,” Claudia piped up, waving a hand down the generous curves of her body. She gave not one shit that she had gone up two sizes after she had her twins and now had boobs fit for a German porn magazine. She loved every last ounce of her lush new body.
Then there was me. No boobs. I usually didn’t care about that. The removal of the implants Robert made me get had been one of the first things I did after I left him, but I was left with a crushing belief that my natural breasts were less than satisfactory to the males of our species.
I had put on a couple of pounds since I had returned from London, but not enough to fill the tight fabric of the dress that Claudia held. Nor the one with the plunging neckline that Lisa pulled off the rack.
“No low cut tops because I have no cleavage to show off,” I declared. “And nothing so short that I have to worry about how I sit or what underwear I have on.” I wrinkled my nose at Claudia’s choice.
They both huffed but put their choices back on the racks. I decided the shop we were in was too young and trendy for me, so we moved on. Two hours later I had officially lost the will to live. Lisa and Claudia took me for a drink to calm my nerves.
“It’s a sign from above that I am not meant to go on this date.”
“Shut up!” Lisa shook her head at me. “You are so meant to go on this date. We are going to find the right dress for you, even if we have to stay here until the shops close. Isla can go to your mum and dad’s. Jacob is picking up our three. He was working from home today anyway. And I might have twisted his arm into taking the twins as well. I’m on a mission, Tori. I’m going to find the perfect dress for you or die trying.”
“That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?” I smirked at her over the rim of my margarita.
“You are going on this date, Tori,” Claudia chimed in. “There’s some more shops at the far end of the mall. We will find the right outfit. I can feel it in my bones.”
My friends had been there when I returned to the village, mentally and physically broken from my marriage. They had been at my side when I cried without warning. Held my hand through my pregnancy with Isla. Helped me find my house, and decorated it with my family and their husbands while I sat there in my final trimester, and they refused to allow me to lift a finger.
They coaxed me out the house when I was afraid of everyone and everything. They took me to toddler group and kept anyone from asking me any invasive questions while Isla got a chance to practice her social skills. They babysat her when I went to my weekly appointments with Sally. They held my hand when I cried like an idiot on Isla’s first day of school.
These were the friends who had attended the same primary school with me when we were young. The girls I went to my first music festival with. They had been there for me throughout my life. And now they wanted me to move on. Go on dates, embrace the world more. They were my own little cheer squad and they wanted to see me happy. With or without a man, they just wanted to see me happy.
I sucked back the rest of my cocktail and stood up. “Right, let’s make this happen. I’m going on a date, naked maybe, but I’m going on a date.” I looked back and forth between them, and forced myself to smile. “And Bastian is one damn fine looking man, so I need to up my game. We are going to find that dress now, ladies.”
“Oooh!” Lisa cried out. “We have failed at being best friends. Spill the beans about this man. I want all the details. Come on, girl, talk.”
So I told them. Everything. By their reactions, it was safe to say that they were almost happier that I had got laid then I was. And they were determined it would happen again.
It took another two hours, but we succeeded in finding not one outfit but three. Lisa’s theory was that I could wear what suited my mood and confidence on the night. So there was the sexy little watermelon coloured sleeveless dress, the bodice gathered high with ties that that went to a narrow back that exposed my shoulder blades but the high neckline and the full skirt that brushed the tops of my knees made me feel adequately covered.
Claudia had found the perfect pair of jewelled thong sandals to compliment the dress. In a rare turn of events, I actually found a silk wrap that had touches of the watermelon shade of the dress swirled in amongst greens and creams that would accessorise nicely.
The second outfit consisted of a pair of wide linen trousers in cream and a floaty tunic top in sky blue with metallic embroidery around the neckline, bottom of the sleeves and the hemline. It was my favourite of the three outfits, probably because it was the least daring.
Finally, a tight black pencil skirt had been paired with a sheer, floaty blouse in scarlet that required a matching camisole underneath to keep it from being scandalous. The best chance that outfit had of being worn was if Lisa borrowed it from me. Patent black leather pumps were bought to go with it, but the heels were not of the same vertiginous height as those that I had fallen in whilst in London. I wanted shoes I didn’t have to concentrate to walk in. Five inch spiked stilettos did not qualify.
By the time I got home, I was exhausted. My parents were sipping wine in my sitting room, Isla long since asleep.
“Look at you and all those shopping bags” my mum exclaimed. “I am impressed. The last time I tried to take you shopping you only bought stuff for Isla. Please tell me all that loot is for you.”
I dropped down into the seat across from them. “I did buy Isla a new dress, but the rest is for me. Go me.” I gave them a cheesy grin and a muted yay.
“You’re going on the date then?” Dad asked.
“Supposedly.”
“You’re going,” Mum informed me. “If I have to come over here and kick you out the door myself, you’re going.”
“Gee, thanks Mum!”
“You’re welcome,” she replied sarcastically. “Seriously, darling, I’ve met him, and he seems lovely. Isla adores him already. And it’s about time you started living again.” She shook her head at me when I went to interrupt. “You can’t let that man you were married to stop you from living a full life. If you do that, he wins. And he isn’t bloody well winning!”
My mother was tearing up, and so was I. The damage Robert had caused reached beyond me. My parents were devastated the day they found out the nightmare I had been living in my marriage. My father felt he had failed me by not protecting me, but I had kept the truth from them through the liberal use of lies and avoiding seeing them as much as possible while I was still married.
“Just don’t set your hopes that this thing with Bastian is going anywhere, okay. It’s a date. One date. Nothing more.”