watching a movie in their home.
She enjoyed her career. Vienna liked helping people; guiding them to make better decisions about their lives and to see things about themselves that they’d never realized. Maintaining her home and career was difficult, but she managed quite well. Vienna used her maiden name at work, and sometimes she felt like two different people. By day she was Dr. Talbot, saving people from their inner demons. At five o’clock each evening, she’d resume her true identity as Mrs. Martazak, devoted wife of Kevin.
All her years of dreaming and planning had paid off. Vienna felt like she’d broken free from the shackles of Gary to become her own person. She loved that her patients felt safe enough to confide in her. And if she ever doubted that her life was perfect, she need only listen to the awful truths her patients revealed to make her count her blessings.
Until one afternoon a patient unwittingly offered Vienna a dose of reality she couldn’t bear to swallow. Her patient, Laura, was having an affair with a married man. Vienna listened to Laura for weeks with an open mind, despite the fact that deep inside, she hated her. In Vienna’s opinion, what was worse than the affair was that Laura got sloppy as the weeks went by, as if she wanted her husband to find out what she was doing. Laura didn’t work, but she’d come home late, telling her husband that she’d been grocery shopping. Yet she arrived home empty-handed. Another time, Laura came home from a liaison with her lover, fixed dinner for her family, did the dishes, watched television with her husband, and went to bed as if nothing had ever happened. Which was what she normally did, but this time, her lover’s dried semen was still on her legs, since she hadn’t taken a shower after they met that afternoon.
Vienna was appalled. But all she could do was ask Laura what she would have done if her husband wanted to make love and wondered what was on her leg. After a long pause, Laura said, “I think I wanted him to find out. And I think I would’ve told him. Kevin’s an amazing lover and a good man. I’d rather be married to him than to my husband. Maybe I should ask for a divorce. What do you think, Dr. Talbot?”
“This is a breakthrough, Laura. But it changes your original goal. You came here hoping to end your affair and keep your husband. Now it sounds as if you’re changing your mind. To answer your question, it doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think?” Vienna asked. Then, before Laura could answer, Vienna heard herself add, “I’m sorry. Did you say Kevin?”
“Yeah,” Laura answered. “I mean, you have to admit that Mrs. Martazak sounds better than Mrs. Bartlebaum.”
“You’re right. That does sound better. But then, I’m rather partial to the name,” Vienna said. “Talbot is my maiden name. My husband’s name is Martazak. Which makes me Mrs. Martazak. Mrs. Kevin Martazak.”
The last thing Vienna remembered was Laura’s startled face as she put two and two together. Vienna had never been a firm believer in temporary insanity, but she changed her point of view when she stabbed Laura in the leg with a letter opener.
Vienna stared at herself in the mirror at Drayden’s. Even though she was no longer Vienna the preacher’s daughter from Gary, or Mrs. Martazak from Bloomington, the merry widow still wasn’t for her. She was neither merry nor a widow. She was a bitter divorcée.
After she dressed, Vienna tossed the merry widow aside, handed the lingerie to Jeanine, and said, “I’ll just take these, please.”
The magic of purchasing with a discount faded faster than the image on a falling Etch A Sketch when the sales associate said, “The name on your license is Vienna Martazak, but the Visa card says Vienna Talbot.”
“I’m divorced. It’s easier to get a new Visa than it is to spend a whole day at the DMV. Talbot’s my maiden name.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Do you have unpleasant associations with the name Talbot?” Vienna asked.
“What? No,” Jeanine said. “I meant that I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.”
“Oh. Thanks,” Vienna said. She felt pitied and didn’t like it at all. “Can I sign so I can get home?”
“Sure. Sign here, then add your employee number and extension.” While Vienna signed, Jeanine asked, “Was it a bad divorce?”
“No, it was fabulous! We sang Gershwin tunes throughout the whole hearing. My divorce was sold out for weeks.” Seeing the sales associate’s discomfort, she quickly apologized and added, “I don’t think divorces are ever good.”
“I shouldn’t have pried,” Jeanine said.
“It wasn’t all bad,” Vienna said offhandedly. “I got to keep my car and the money from selling the house.”
“What did he get?” Jeanine asked.
“He got to live,” Vienna said. When Jeanine laughed, she added, “I didn’t think that was fair, but who am I to question a judge?”
Walking through the mall on her way home, Vienna watched the people around her and wondered if their lives had turned out as planned. She tried to ignore all the couples walking hand in hand, but there were too many of them. People came from all over the world to visit Mall of the Universe, and they seemed to do it in pairs. She tried to avert her eyes, but everywhere she looked she saw them. Then she ran into a woman and said, “Excuse me. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” the woman said. “Do you regularly get manicures? Would you like to try our new hand cream? It’s great for problem cuticles.”
Vienna looked around in horror, finally realizing what had happened. She wasn’t paying attention and had run into one of the Cart People.
“No. I just got a manicure. I don’t need anything,” Vienna said quickly and tried to get away. Before she could, the other Cart People saw her, grabbed samples from their carts, and began moving toward her.
“Isn’t this hat great?”
“Do you need sunglasses? We have the latest styles!”
“These earrings would look fabulous against your neck! They’re stainless steel.”
Vienna felt like the town tramp with a broken heel in a slasher flick as hordes of zombies moved in for the kill. She swung her Drayden’s shopping bag to ward off the Cart People, screamed, and ran for her life.
By the time she got home, Vienna was extremely annoyed. The scads of people in love ticked her off, but her own feelings of inferiority bothered her even more. Not to mention the Cart People. She slammed the door to her apartment, threw her shopping bag into her room, and headed for the refrigerator.
“You’re in a mood,” Davii observed as he turned to look at her from their sofa. Though their apartment was fairly large, the kitchen, dining area, and living room had no walls, so Davii and Vienna could carry on a conversation even though they were in separate rooms. “Rough day in the kohl mines, dear?”
Vienna shut the refrigerator door and said, “Why don’t we have any decent food? Do we have any cupcakes? I want cupcakes.”
Davii turned off the television and said, “You threw out all the junk food last week when you went on fad diet number five this year.”
“That was stupid. Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Ever try to stop a moving train?” Davii asked. “This can’t be about cupcakes. What’s wrong?”
“Why can’t it be about cupcakes?”
“Because that would be insane,” Davii said.
“Technically, it would be obsessive. Actually, it’s more compulsive behavior,” Vienna said.
Davii patted the cushion next to him and said, “Come on, Vienna. Tell me all about it.”
Vienna made a big show of exasperation as she crossed the room to sit down, but inside she was grateful. She wanted to talk to someone. Someone other than a sales