Young Wives by Goldsmith Olivia Read Free Book Online Page B

than Clinton. He had Michelle completely fooled. Jada doubted if Frank knew where the washer or dryer was in his house, much less the stove. If Michelle were to ever leave Frank home alone with the children for two days and Frank couldn’t call his mother over, the Russos would die of starvation, despite a refrigerator full of food. Frank who could work with his shining dark hair to get just the right lift, was incapable of slapping a slice of Velveeta between two slices of bread, or sorting laundry, or making the bed. He made Clinton look like the black male Betty Crocker. And Michelle never complained.
    Hey, girl , she told herself. Stop the comparisons. Try for a gratitude attitude. Drop the criticism . This daily walk, Jada thought, this friendship, and this safe and pretty neighborhood, were two of the good things in her life. She said a silent prayer, remembering to be grateful for her strong legs and lungs, her friendship and her home. She looked around at the houses, the gray trees glistening with the last of the frost. Pretty. “Look,” she said, pointing to new construction. “They’re putting a sunroom on.” She and Michelle checked every house improvement project and gave their approval—or not. Michelle looked at the hole knocked into the side of the brick colonial.
    “Oh, I’d love that. It looks like it’ll be a real greenhouse. I wonder if Frank could build one for me?”
    He should build a doghouse first , Jada thought, tripping over the leash as Pookie cut her off yet again. They turned to the right, Pookie pulling Michelle, who was almost slipping as the dog pulled her on the snowy street. As Jada looked away in annoyance, she saw the oddest thing—a face appeared in the window of a Tudor across the street for a moment. It was a face so pale that a trick of the light made it seem almost luminous, although the eyes were so shadowed that they seemed to recede into the darkness of the house. In the back of Jada’s mind something about the face seemed familiar, or…had she had a dream? She shivered and shook off the feeling. “I’d swear I just saw a ghost,” Jada told Michelle. “Otherwise there’s a scary-looking woman being held prisoner in there. Who lives in that house now?”
    “Oh, that’s the new guy. You know. The middle-aged one who lives there alone. He’s Italian or something. Anthony. He has that—”
    “The one with the nice cars?” Jada interrupted.
    Michelle nodded. “The one with a limo service. And a very small mortgage.” Jada reflected that being a loan officer gave you insights others might not have. Michelle continued. “I don’t think he’s married.”
    “Well, then he has a very unhappy girlfriend.”
    “Maybe it’s an arranged marriage,” Michelle said. “You know, like they write away to Russia and order some young wife.”
    “That’s not ar -ranged, it’s deranged,” Jada said. They walked on in silence for a while.
    “So what are you going to do about Clinton? Will you force him to make a commitment?”
    “Clinton? Commitment? The only thing those two words have in common is they both start with a ‘c.’ I mean, Clinton is the only guy in his ’hood who never got a tattoo. De Beers lies when it says it’s a diamond. A tattoo is forever.”
    “I can’t imagine why he’d do something like this,” Michelle said. “You’re perfect.”
    “Why he wouldn’t get a tattoo?” Jada asked, deflecting the discussion. Sometimes Mich just didn’t get it, Jada thought. Was it her kiss-me-I’m-Irish heritage? “That’s just it, Mich. I’m perfect, and that makes Clinton sick. I’m twice as strong as he is. He knows it and he hates it!”
    “No! Jada, don’t say that! You’re going through a hard time—a really hard time—but that isn’t true. Clinton admires you. He doesn’t hate you.”
    “I didn’t say he hates me . I said he hates my strength.” Jada sighed. “He could make it ten years ago when it was easy, but he can’t make