Wake up call

DREAM HOUSE

 

Howard is rich, so rich, (via his inheritance and his own prowess). He's smart and quite handsome. I can't turn him down. He loves me, showers me with gifts, diamonds, anything and everything. We have cruised the islands, done Europe or what's left of it. I love him, I think, and try hard to differentiate between love and greed. Bits of our wedding are shown on t.v. The Society column of the New York Herald tells the world about our honeymoon 'hideaway'. I try to believe readers don't notice, but I do. There is not a word anywhere about my parents. There is no 'daughter of Drs. Vanderbilt or Morgan' because I am not that at all.

 

We are barely in Howard's house, settled down, when for my birthday we fly in his private jet, named Babs after me, to Paris for dinner and 'fun,' as he calls it. I have heard enough chanteuses, seen more than enough anti-Israel posters, floated down the Seine and now lie on our spotless, comfortable king size bed at the Metropole 'L 'Hotel' Our chambermaid has delivered a magnificent vase of red roses from the manager. Its fragrance saturates the room, my brain, as I try to avoid the mental pictures of the wealth that is lavished on me.

 

I tell no one at all about my feelings. Old family friends, my college class mates,  surely must be jealous and would turn me into mince-meat, remind me how I used to paper bag it to class, watch for sales of school books. Sherry, my first cousin, has actually called me snot-nose  and walked away as if I had a bad case of leprosy. I wonder if there is a good case of leprosy and wish it on her.

 

We are having, no Howard is having, twenty for dinner tonight in 'our' dining room. There will be an entourage of help, the food prepared in a trailer in our garden. We aren't going to eat. Howard tells me often, we are going to 'dine.' The odd thing is he is unaware, totally unaware of my distaste for the way he has been brought up and his disdain for those who have less than he has. How, why, where in the world did he find me and take me as I am? I cannot believe he doesn't see that I don't need or want so much. This evening may turn out to be our end. Oh, I'll act, play the part of a happy-go-lucky spoiled wife—then suddenly  stop dead in my own tracks. 'How am I going to do this, break up our marriage? ' A little voice tells me and I prepare my new plan. It takes thought, deep, tough thought, and I go for it.

 

Lowering my voice to a soft sweety pitch, I approach him as he is finishing his cocktail. 'Honey, I have come up with something I'd like you to give me for us.' He looks as me with a curious grayness in his eyes. 'What is it that we should have that we don't have, Darling?'
Pulling no punches, I reply, 'A cozy little nest, near a park where our son will play in the sandpile, and he'll have one, not ten, clowns for his first birthday. I want us to have a fireplace where we can watch the flames curl around cedar logs, not have those fake logs warmed my gas until they burn a bit. I'd like to fix a good omelet for you with bacon strips. We can both use a lot more privacy. '

 

My husband listens politely, seems to mull my thoughts over. He starts to call for Aida, our housekeeper and semi-friend, to bring him a brandy but stops, goes to the liquor cabinet and gets it himself. He offers me a sniff but I say, No thanks.' His reply is a yelp,'What, what did you just tell me? I wasn't listening too well. Are we going to have a son?!'

 

'Yes, Howard in six and a half months. I have already found a perfect medium sized new house with three bedrooms, a pool in the back yard, a school within walking distance and I  bought a small dog house for our  first puppy in the large back yard.'

 

Howard mulls my ideas over and over, enlarges them until I scream. 'Husband, I will be moving out and of course, with Brad already in my charge, he'll be going with me. When he is two, you may want to have him in your care every other week-end. Otherwise, I will be speaking to 'our' attorney this Friday.'

 

And that is the way it stands. He is rich, so rich, and smart and quite handsome and I am willing to give him a chance to step down a bit, actually a lot, from the way he was reared, take off his halo and live with me and Sammy, or Larry, or, or, whatever name he selects for our son. He asks to be given time to think it so we can  work something out.

 

I give him a month and a half and a son. He acquiesces , learns to holler at the men mowing our back yard, walks our little chow and is home five evenings a week. The other two evenings ???????