Chapter 10

Gwen woke up slowly. She opened her eyes, moaned, and shut them again. The bright sunlight seemed to pierce her skull, increasing the intense ache.

She tried to move. Her body was stiff, her thighs hurt.

"Ooooh," she moaned aloud. "Pete? Pete?"

No answer. She reached out blindly to Pete's side of the bed. It was empty.

A queasy feeling in her stomach warned her blurred mind. She forced herself up off the bed and ran for the bathroom. She was just in time. She vomited furiously, then leaned against the bathroom wall until the world stopped spinning around her.

"Oh oh oh," she moaned. "Oh I'm so sick!"

When her stomach had quieted, she staggered back to bed and lay curled in a ball in the bright sunlight. She peered out of bed at the bedside clock, blinking tib she could see the face of it. It read twenty past one.

"Gosh. In the afternoon," she muttered. She rubbed her aching head with cold fingers.

Slowly the memories trickled back, then began coming in a flood. Last night. Drinking. Dancing. Then the bedroom. Don. Larry. Larry for a long time. Blanking out. Larry bringing her home.

"Pete?" said Gwen. She couldn't remember if Pete had come home.

She staggered up again, and made it to the stairs. She went half-way down the stairs till she could see the couch. Pete lay there, fully dressed, stretched out in a posture of complete relaxation.

"Oooh, what a night," Gwen muttered. She sat on the stairs. Her eyes felt swollen. She couldn't focus them for very long at a time. Finally she went back to bed.

She still felt sick the next day. But Pete was up early and off to work. Gwen sat over her coffee, gloomily contemplating more weekends like the past one. She didn't think she could take it.

Pete had raved, "What a party! What a great time!"

Gwen had not answered. She was sick in body and mind. What she had done with Don and Larry was against all her teachings and principles.

Over her coffee, she thought, "I wouldn't have to go so far next time. Let Pete have his fun. I'll just dance, and play games. I don't have to go to bed with any man."

She didn't feel at all right about her behavior. She felt guilty, and she didn't like to feel so guilty. It was wrong for her, no matter what the others said.

"I'm not going to get so involved with that fast crowd," she resolved aloud. She took another aspirin. "I'll just say, 'no, thanks, fellas,' and that will be that. They won't force me. They aren't the type. I'll just go my way, and let them go theirs."

Her resolve to reform made her feel more cheerful. When her headache had subsided, she went about her housework. She did the laundry, then hung it outside in the sunlight. The light made her blink. Her eyes were still not back to normal.

"Hi, there, neighbor!" said a strange voice.

Gwen stood up from leaning over the laundry basket. She stared helpless at a plump middle-aged woman. She could not remember ever seeing her before.

The woman beamed at her. "I'm Mrs. Bender, next door here. You must have moved in while we were on vacation."

"Oh yes! I'm Mrs. Anderson. Gwen Anderson."

The woman shook Gwen's wet hand heartily. "Pleased to meet you. My, you're young. Just married, I bet."

Gwen blushed. "Yes. That is about a month.'

"And in good with Karen Marshall's crowd already!" The woman's sharp eyes were narrowed with curiosity. "I saw Larry Crawford bringing you home yesterday morning."

"Oh," said Gwen stupidly. "I--ah I drank too much," she confessed in a rush. "I'm not used to drinking."

"Gee, you're lucky," said Mrs. Bender, gazing across the lawn toward Karen's house. "Getting into that crowd. They have parties ah the time. More fun."

Her tone was decidedly wistful. Gwen hung up more clothes, not offering any comments on the "fun."

Mrs. Bender chattered on, with plums of gossip stuck richly through her discourse. "The folks before you she was dying to be in the crowd. But they wouldn't have her, and my, but she was so jealous. She phoned the police a couple times about noise. You know? Made Karen Marshall so mad. They don't make noise. It's just music and laughing. Sounds like fun all night when Karen Marshall has a party."

She was evidently eager for information about Karen and the crowd. Gwen did not offer any. She felt uncomfortable before the friendly, gossipy woman. If Mrs. Bender ever found out what kind of "fun" went on at the parties, she would be horrified.

Or would she?

Gwen pondered that later as she ate lunch. The world was quite different from what Gwen had thought it was. Gwen had never dreamed such parties went on, with free exchange of partners, promiscuous love-making, intercourse indulged in with no regard to anything except the desires of the moment.

Who was right? Or was there any right or wrong? Did people have the right to do what they pleased, as long as nobody else was hurt by it?

Pete phoned about the middle of the afternoon.

"Hi, honey, how do you feel?" he asked exuberantly, as though he had never had a hangover in his life.

"Better," she sighed.

"That's good. You get some rest, honey. Listen, I have to stay overnight in town. I thought I might have to follow up on this case, so I packed some stuff, and I'm all set."

"Oh a big insurance deal?" she asked, pleased.

"Yeah real big. Got to hurry, honey. Be good I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Okay. Good luck, Pete."

He sounded strange, his voice muffled. "Thanks, honey. I'll see you. Goodbye."

The house was lonely that evening, without Pete dashing in, demanding his supper, telling her about his failures of triumphs of the day. Gwen found a magazine and read it for a while, then went to bed early. She noticed the lights in the

Marshall's house went out soon after she went to bed. That was odd, she thought. She had not put down Karen Marshall as an early-to-bed sort of girl.

The next day dragged. She had not realized how she looked forward to Pete's presence in the evenings to break the monotony of life in the suburbs.

She laughed at her own eagerness as she waited for Pete to come home. She hoped the deal had gone well, for his sake. He was so radiantly happy when he made a big sale and so blue when one did not materialize.

She kept peering out the front windows. There was a Swiss steak in the oven, a big pan of steak and onions, carrots, potatoes and gravy, just the way Pete liked. She had made a chocolate cake and iced it with caramel frosting.

And she had resolved to keep herself for Pete alone, and not get mixed up with other men.

So she waited, hopefully, happily, as five o'clock came. Five-fifteen. Five-thirty. She kept running back to the kitchen to make sure the meat and vegetables were not burning.

Five forty-five. She stood at the window and shifted from one foot to the other. Had the deal gone through? Were they celebrating? Did Pete have to write a long report? What could have kept him?

Then the car drove along to the house, paused. slid forward a few more feet. Gwen gazed, frozen to the spot.

Karen hopped out of the car. Her red hair gleamed in the sunlight. She reached into the back of Pete's car and took out a small suitcase. She slammed the door, waggled her fingers at Pete, then pranced up the walk to her own house.

Pete backed up and parked the car in front. He got out, took his own case, and started up the walk. He looked ahead, right at Gwen.

The two started at each other. Gwen did not believe it yet, but somehow she knew, knew it was true.

Pete came in. She turned from the window and gazed at him speechlessly.

"Hi, Gwen," said Pete, uneasily. His eyes shifted from her.

He paused a moment. When she didn't speak, he shrugged, and walked upstairs with his suitcase. Gwen sat down limply on the nearest chair.

Pete washed up, then came downstairs again. He looked at her, then away. "Uh what's for supper, honey?"

"You were with Karen," she said flatly. "You didn't have a big insurance deal."

"Oh, for gosh sakes!"

"Weren't you?"

He paced around the room nervously. He ruffled his short black hair with one hand. "Okay. So we spent the night. What about it?"

"And today, too?"

"Yeah, today, too. What's the difference if we make love at a party, or at a hotel? What's the difference? Just so long as nobody gets hurt, why shouldn't we?"

"Because it's wrong," Gwen said. Her voice broke. "It's wrong, Pete. And you, you bed to me."

"Oh, for pity-" he muttered in exasperation. "Look, you enjoyed yourself on Saturday. You went to bed with Don and Larry. You enjoyed it. Why shouldn't we all have fun?"

"It isn't fun! It's horrible!" she cried. "Pete, this is all wrong! It's wrong! We're married!"

"That doesn't change anything! I like Karen, she goes for me." His face was flushed and his eyebrows drawn in anger. "I didn't object to your actions at the party."

"You should have! You should have objected!"

Their quarrel was hot and stormy. They went around and around in circles, getting nowhere, concluding nothing.

And Pete slept on the couch once more that night. Gwen wept in bed alone. She felt frightened and confused.

The more she tried to do right, the more trouble there was. Pete obviously wanted to be free to make love to Karen and other women, not just at the parties, but on secret meetings.

What was right? What was wrong? All her old values were upside-down, meaningless in the strange world of suburbia.