Making of a Kept Woman
chapter 14
Chapter 14: Happy New Year…
While coaxing myself back to life the following morning, a reminder popped up on my phone about the New Year’s Eve party Broderick’s firm was hosting. I hadn’t given it much thought since I’d been mentally preoccupied for weeks but was doubtful I had anything suitable to wear. I hesitantly made my way to the closet to sift through its offerings.
My best option was the little black dress I wore to Broderick’s business dinner before he moved to Florida. It could easily be transformed into something more celebratory with the right accessories. If it had fit, anyway. My return to healthy eating and the recent bout of depression was enough for me to drop a size, or even two. It hadn’t been an issue with my drawstring loungewear but was definitely noticeable with the fitted dress. I wondered if Broderick might find himself in the same predicament.
When he returned from work that evening, I explained my dilemma and asked what he’d planned on wearing. He tried on three of his best suits before conceding he’d also need something new. Time was of the essence, so he proposed I shop for us the following day while he was at the office. Then he extended one of his credit cards to cover the cost of anything we’d need since it was a business expense. I felt uneasy guesstimating his correct size using only his baggy formal wear as my guide but accepted the challenge with a caveat- I was off the hook if he ended up looking ridiculous.
My first day of shopping did little more than reacclimate me to the outside world. A necessary first step, I suppose, but otherwise unsatisfying. Thankfully, the second day started off much stronger. I found a little black dress that seemed perfect for both the occasion and my biting mood. It was jet black, completely sequined, backless, and short. It was simple compared to others I’d seen, but its attitude piqued my interest. I’d just need some accessories to bring it to life.
When I got off the elevator for Saks’ men’s department, I found myself smack dab in the middle of women’s shoes. And mere feet away were a pair of pseudo suede, knee-high boots with buckles on the shaft that stirred some dark and stormy emotions within me. I tried on my presumed size and THEY FIT! They actually fit!! It was nothing short of a miracle. I felt so excited that I had the boots rung up on the spot; I didn’t even think of trying them on with my dress first. That flood of dopamine had me feeling far more confident about my search for Broderick’s attire.
After practically floating to the menswear counter, I offered the salesman a peak at my new dress and pointed to the boots on display as I asked for guidance. There was no reason to turn the store upside down when this dapper gentleman obviously knew his craft. It only took him about fifteen minutes to pull together two complete looks to choose from. Of which, I was drawn to the asphalt and pitch-black tux with robust cufflinks and a vest chain that matched my boots. I questioned whether the chunky accessories might be too much for Broderick since he was a simple dresser, but felt the tuxedo was striking with or without them. I went ahead with the sale, eager to see our complete ensembles side-by-side.
Perhaps my bar had just been set low, but it felt oddly rewarding to leave with two new outfits in tow. I rode my shopper’s high to Broderick’s office to pick him up, using my favorite tunes to sustain me through downtown traffic.
By the time we both settled in for the evening, I was running low on dopamine and had begun second-guessing my efforts. I anxiously unpacked Broderick’s garment bag and displayed its contents on the bed for review. He silently assessed things, then cocked his head to one side and proclaimed that if I thought it would work- it would work. So anti-climactic.
The following day was New Year’s Eve, so I spent the morning painting my nails, pairing different hairstyles with my dress, and trying to muster the energy to mingle. I wanted my A-game for Broderick and his new colleagues but was having trouble getting there. It wasn’t even the holiday blues weighing me down. It was an uneasy realization I had while doing my hair; I didn’t recognize the person staring back in the mirror. It had been a couple of years since I’d recognized my external world, but I wasn’t aware I’d reached the point of not recognizing my own reflection. My eyes had lost their sparkle and my skin appeared sallow. When had I started looking so weathered? I wasn’t a kid anymore, but I wasn’t matronly, either. I truly didn’t know the person looking back at me. The new year could be a great time to reinvent myself, but I wasn’t sure who I was reinventing—or who I wanted to become. Such uncertainties made it difficult to feel either festive or social.
The low mood had me critiquing fine lines that probably only I could see and spiraled into a matinee of “Life would be better if and when…” hypotheticals in my mind. Once I realized what I was doing, I took a step back and decided I didn’t want to be that person anymore. I’d allowed painful narratives and projected ideals control my every thought, mood, and action for far too long. While I still didn’t know who I wanted to be, I was certain I wanted more for myself than that had been offering.
That brief glimpse of awareness was the start of something. While showering, I thought back to who I’d been over the years- the good kid, the peacemaker, and the one friends turned to for advice (oddly enough). I’d built my identity around pleasing and helping others without realizing the price I was paying for it. I’d stifled the wild, raw, creative, and messy parts of me just to keep a semblance of peace with and for others. While it had helped me feel safe in an unsafe world, the chronic role-playing had completely warped my sense of self. The longer I thought about it, the more curious I became. What would happen if I let those other sides of me loose? If I invited more of me to exist in the world? Such curiosity felt scary, yet alluring.
With those thoughts in mind, I turned to the internet for help stepping out of my comfort zone. A couple of videos convinced me I could create a chic fauxhawk and dramatic eye makeup, so I tried those on for size. Neither came out as intended, but I still appreciated the finished look. It was unlike any style I’d worn before and accentuated both my mood and attire.
It was a challenge to maintain that semblance of confidence as I waited for Broderick to get in from work, though. He would be the first to see my experimental look and I had no idea how it would be received. Did I pull it off? Or did I look like I was wearing a Halloween costume? Only time would tell. Changing my persona was surprisingly unsettling; no wonder I hadn’t done it before. I called on pineapple vodka to ease my mind and soothe the butterflies in my stomach.
When Broderick walked in and saw me, his eyes widened and jaw dropped. He looked shocked. I assured him that my hair and makeup were negotiable, but the dress and boots were happening. There were no back-up options. He shook his head and let me know he was very much okay with what I was wearing, he’d just never seen that side of me before. That was before he knew it was backless. The front of my dress covered me completely, making my approach relatively modest. He’d need the full picture before making such claims. So when I finished my drink, I purposefully walked past him on my way to the sink. I looked over my shoulder as my glass clinked on the steel and asked, “still good?” He closed his lips so tightly they nearly disappeared, then nodded in agreement.
Broderick grabbed a quick snack before heading to his room to get changed. He returned a few minutes later with the vest chain in hand and no idea how to attach it. Fortunately, the salesman had given me a run-through on that, so I was able to help.
The drive to the party felt amazing; I might even say exhilarating. The weather was cool and crisp by Florida’s standards and my buzz had really lightened my headspace. So much so, I didn’t pay any mind to the valet when we arrived. I mindlessly jumped out of the car and headed straight inside like I knew where I was going. Broderick had to jog to catch up with me so we could enter together.
There were a couple events at the hotel that night, so we had to follow a trail of signs to our ballroom. Broderick shook his boss’s hand at the door while I hugged his wife, then patiently sought the opportunity to excuse myself to the open bar. Insecurities about debuting a new look had rushed back to me upon entering the busy venue and I didn’t want them to get the best of me.
Once I was free to roam, I downed a champagne mojito at the bar and picked up a couple for Broderick and I to mingle with. He was talking with two couples on the outskirts of the crowd, so I silently approached and handed him a cocktail while awaiting introductions. As Broderick went through the formalities, he ushered me closer to the group by placing his hand on the small of my back. There was no clothing to absorb his touch, so his hand pressed against my bare skin, with fingertips nearly slipping under the trim of my dress. It was so subtle I wouldn’t have noticed had they not been cold and wet from the glass I’d just handed him.
We conversed with the four of them for a short while longer before moving on to the next group. There, Broderick began the introductions with two attractive peers, a second couple nearing retirement, and a gentleman in his mid-forties. After Broderick shook everyone’s hands, he returned it to my back, sliding his fingertips under the fabric of my dress once more. Surely, it wasn’t intentional.
While talking with this friendly group, I complemented the only other woman on her emerald gown and one of the men, Scott, on his impeccable accessories. Both were genuinely flattering in return. When I told Scott I could use his input the next time I’d be sent shopping for Broderick, his husband improvised a witty rundown of their styling fees. Their relaxed humor helped me feel confident enough to rejoin the conversation when I learned Scott was a psychiatrist. Our common interest kept us chatting with one another while Broderick graciously engaged the remaining folks in our circle.
When the group separated to mingle further, I realized I’d started to feel tipsy. I ate a couple hors d'oeuvres to absorb some of the alcohol in my system, but they were too small to be of much help. It seemed the time had come to cut myself off from cocktails. The whole point of drinking was to help me socialize more comfortably and I didn’t want that to backfire. I needed a few minutes alone to regroup, so I excused myself to the restroom while Broderick found a new batch of colleagues to converse with.
The nearest bathroom seemed to be a mile away but was every bit as impressive as the rest of the hotel. The enormous space was filled with some exquisite stone like granite or marble, crystal chandeliers, ornate mirrors, and a lounge with plush settees. I took a seat on one to check my mascara, which has a penchant for smearing like a racoon when I drink. All was well, thankfully. But something else caught my attention.
Even though I looked like never before, I recognized some unknown part of my reflection. I was curious yet unwilling to travel down that road twice in one day. Instead, I stood before thoughts could consume me and helped myself to a complimentary water bottle from the side table. It was also stocked with mouthwash, gum, and condoms- presumably for the night and not a typical offering. I took a couple of sips and tried to collect myself before heading back to the party.
When I was about halfway there, I realized I’d left my clutch behind and had to turn around. Upon reentering the bathroom, I saw a young couple leaning over the counter. Then a swift nasal inhale cut through the soft music playing overhead. I stiffened in my tracks and scrambled to figure out how I wanted to play it. Ignore and leave? Bribe them for a line by leveraging the room full of lawyers?! Lost in thought, I bumped my boot buckle on the chaise next to me. They frantically turned around while wiping their faces. God was that tempting! I’d come face-to-face with the very substance that had once lured me back to reality and I needed to make a decision. My heart raced as I grabbed my purse and hurried out without saying a word.
I batted that adrenaline-inducing moment around my head like a cat with a yarn ball as I walked back to the ballroom. Part of me desperately wanted to cross the line and venture into the abyss. So much so, my tongue intuitively ran over my gums as I replayed the scene. It wasn’t the high I was chasing, though. More than anything, I wanted to override the need to be responsible and safe ALL OF THE TIME. I wanted to liberate myself from feeling too scared to take chances in life. My shadow argued that interest and intrigue were created from mistakes and close calls- not perfection, but Pollyanna wasn’t convinced.
I hated that I couldn’t relinquish control and dive nose first into the moment offered up. I genuinely questioned what was wrong with me. Why was I so docile? I felt like a coward in a bold woman’s clothing and resented myself for it.
I returned to the ballroom with daggers pointed inward and pensively searched for the man who’d invited me. When I finally located Broderick in the crowd, and his eyes locked with mine, a comforting warmth cascaded throughout my existence. The self-loathing began to melt away and I gradually shifted back to the person he’d entrusted to stand beside him for the evening. I took a deep breath, exhaling my regret and brutal self-talk as I walked towards him.
Broderick’s sweet smile and kind eyes had soothed my internal battle enough to begin thinking clearly. No matter what trials and tribulations life had sent my way, he’d always believed in me. That unwavering support could be seen in his eyes from across the room. I’d either earned that, or his trusting heart simply refused to believe otherwise. Regardless of his reason, I didn’t want to prove him wrong. His presence reminded me that taking chances didn’t have to mean jeopardizing my integrity. While I still felt it was time to reinvent myself, I appreciated that I didn’t have to be reckless in the process.
I rose to the occasion once more by quietly taking my place next to Broderick and the latest group he was conversing with. We enjoyed delightfully idle chit-chat as we counted down the remainder of the year and welcomed in a brand-new one. All the while my body was immersed in the joys of midnight’s passing, my heart longed to know who I could, should, and would be in the months to follow.