Chapter 11
While juggling half a dozen crises in the office, including fabric that hadn’t come in
from Italy, two June brides changing their wedding gowns radically and the sewers
playing beat the clock to finish them, delivery problems, a crucial pattern that went
missing, and a foreign head of state who wanted Dominique to design his daughter’s
wedding gown, a great honor, but for free and only publicity and a million hours of
labor on the dress, she felt like an octopus with ten hands, and while solving every
problem and calming every crisis, she managed to take two days off and create a long
weekend for Felicity’s second fitting in Paris. The countdown had started, and the
wedding was only weeks away. The designer of her dress, Liliane Leroy, said it was
crucial that Felicity come to Paris to make sure that everything was perfect. Felicity had
been quiet in the airport, and looked serious when they boarded the flight. Her mother
thought she looked very pale, undoubtedly due to wedding nerves. Dominique hadn’t
seen her in several weeks. She had tried repeatedly for a late or early dinner, but
Felicity said she was working on her show and didn’t have time. Dominique hadn’t seen
Violet either. She was on a constant merry-go-round of social activity and sports events
with Jamie to celebrate their non-engagement, as she called it. She was gleeful about it
and sounded ecstatic. Her mother was happy for her, and at least there was no wedding
to plan. For now anyway. Dominique wondered if Violet would change her mind about
marrying Jamie. Violet was hard to predict and had her own ideas, none of them
conventional, which Dominique respected. She’d always been that way, even as a child.
Felicity had been serious and shy.
Dominique hadn’t seen Bill in two weeks. Eileen was home, with every kind of
hospital equipment set up in the house, and Bill had his hands full, organizing the nurses
and taking shifts himself. He hardly had time to talk to Dominique. He called at odd
hours, usually whispering, with Eileen close by. He had no privacy in his own house
anymore and no time to himself, and nothing to say other than reports on Eileen’s health,
her minor leaps forward, and occasional big steps backward. She was still at high risk
of becoming paraplegic if something went wrong. They weren’t out of the woods yet,
and Bill sounded exhausted whenever they spoke. He tried not to be short-tempered
with Dominique on the phone, but at times everything he was dealing with got the best
of him. He hadn’t had a moment to himself, or of rest, in weeks, and there was no light
at the end of the tunnel so far. It just seemed to get longer and longer.
Dominique had brought magazines to read on the plane, and shared them with
Felicity. They both watched a movie, but Dominique couldn’t concentrate and gave up
after a few minutes. All she could think of was Bill.
“I can’t wait to see the dress,” she said to Felicity while they ate lunch. They were
traveling first class, as she always did. She had a lace-maker she had to call in Paris for
her own line. They had tripled their prices and Dominique wanted a better discount.
They claimed that the cost of labor and import taxes had impacted them severely, which
Dominique knew was true, but she still wanted a better price.
“I hope it fits,” Felicity said, looking worried.
“Of course it will. All brides lose weight before the wedding. It’s inevitable. They
get nervous and don’t eat.”
“I think I might have gained some weight.”
“I doubt it, but you’ll lose it before the wedding. All brides do.” Felicity didn’t
belabor the point, and they both took a nap before they landed. It was a gray day in
Paris, but at least it wasn’t cold.
They checked into the Ritz, and as soon as they dropped off their bags they went to
see Marie-Aurélie. Dominique didn’t want to stay at her mother’s apartment now that
Clément was living there. It would be too awkward for them, and they needed their
space. She didn’t want to make her mother or her future husband uncomfortable. He was
very proper and discreet.
Marie-Aurélie was in great spirits and the ankle wasn’t hurting her anymore when
they saw her. She still had to have the cast for several more weeks and Clément was
taking good care of her. He and Felicity discussed several major museum shows that
they both wanted to see. Clément was very polite and got along with everyone.
Marie-Aurélie was worried about both her daughter and granddaughter as she
watched them. She thought they both looked tired, and Dominique seemed unhappy,
which didn’t surprise her. She knew about Bill’s wife’s accident and that Dominique
hadn’t seen him in weeks. It was taking a heavy toll on her too.
Dominique and Felicity went back to the hotel after a two-hour visit. They were
going to order dinner from room service and go to bed early. The dress fitting was the
next morning, and Felicity looked stressed when they left the hotel with a car and driver
the concierge hired for them. Dominique was sending emails from her phone. They
arrived at the studio on time, and Liliane was waiting for them. She looked as young and
earnest as before, and Dominique was touched by the personal attention she was giving
them. It was a great honor for her to create a dress for a famous designer’s daughter.
The dress was brought out by two women from the atelier, and white sheets spread out
on the floor before Felicity tried it. Liliane carefully adjusted the shoulders and
smoothed down the drape of the dress, and one of the seamstresses made a clucking
sound as she closed it, and glanced at Liliane in panic.
“There was a mistake in the measurements,” she said, and Liliane went to check for
herself. “We need two centimeters in the bust and the waist.” The dress wouldn’t close
in either place, although it wasn’t a form-fitting style. But Dominique’s practiced eye
noticed a difference too, and the two designers conferred, standing behind Felicity.
There was just enough lace in the seams to correct it, but it would be a delicate fix. The
rest of the dress fit her perfectly. Liliane measured Felicity again, and there was a
discrepancy in the measurements, which upset her, and when Dominique glanced at
Felicity, she saw that there were tears filling her daughter’s eyes.
“It’s okay, they can fix it,” she said gently, and Felicity shook her head and
whispered to her mother. They could fix the dress but not what mattered.
“No, they can’t. I’m pregnant.” Dominique looked stunned for a moment. It hadn’t
even occurred to her, although it happened with the brides she designed for too, and
wasn’t that unusual. Often they didn’t tell her and their measurements changed radically
from one fitting to the next, which no one understood until they confessed. Felicity
carefully took off the dress with the seamstress’s help, and Liliane asked them to come
back the next day so she and the seamstress could work on it overnight. Felicity and
Dominique left the studio a few minutes later. Felicity burst into tears as soon as they
left and Dominique hugged her.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Are you happy about it?” She handed her a handkerchief
and they stood on the street, as Felicity shook her head and cried harder. There was a
café across the street, and Dominique suggested they have a cup of coffee and talk. They
sat at a small round table on the sidewalk, Dominique ordered café filtre for them, and
Felicity blew her nose.
“I told Taylor when we got engaged that I didn’t want kids for five years. I’m not
ready to have a baby, and it’s going to delay my career. I’m just not ready for children,
but I must have missed a pill or two. I was stupid, I should have paid more attention. I
wanted to get an abortion and Taylor wouldn’t let me, and now it’s too late. His mother
suggested that it’s probably not Taylor’s anyway, and he threatened to kill me if I ‘killed
his baby.’ Then I saw it on a sonogram and I felt too guilty, so I said I’d keep it, but,
Mom, I don’t know what to do. I wish I were dead.”
“That’s not an option,” Dominique said firmly. “And what do you mean his mother
said it’s not Taylor’s? Did you sleep with someone else? Did I miss something?”
“No, she thinks that anyone who gets pregnant before they marry is a whore, she
came right out and said it to me.” She didn’t tell her mother that Taylor had slapped her
and caused her nose to bleed. “She demanded a DNA test to prove the baby is his.”
Dominique looked outraged. “And did you get the test?” She was nearly shaking
with rage.
“No, but I will if they really want it. Taylor knows it’s his. There’s no one else. But
now I’m stuck with a baby I don’t want, that is going to change my whole life. I wish I’d
had the abortion.”
“I wish you had told me when all this was happening.”
“It’s just been the last couple of weeks,” she said, and Dominique registered that it
was during the time she hadn’t seen Bill and was upset and distracted herself.
“They have no right to treat you that way. Did Taylor defend you?”
“It was very emotional for him. He agrees with his mother about the abortion. I’m
not sure his father cares. He never says anything. His mom runs everything. They
accused me of murder if I got an abortion.”
“If you get a good nanny, you can still work,” she reassured her. “I did. But I wanted
all of you so I spent time with you. I’m not sure it’s fair to bring a child into the world
that its mother doesn’t want. It probably won’t be as awful and disruptive as you think,
but it’s a big change,” she admitted, “and you have to be willing to make sacrifices for
children. They have to come first.” Felicity knew that she and her siblings had come
first for her mother and never for her father. She’d only heard from Andrew once since
she got engaged, and that was to tell her he was bringing a date to the wedding, the
current love of his life who was ten years younger than Felicity, and a model. Felicity
had asked her brother to walk her down the aisle. Her father would only be there as one
of the wedding guests, which he didn’t mind. He had no interest whatsoever in his
children and never had. He acted like they were someone else’s. He’d been neglected
and grown up in boarding schools, and only cared about himself. It had taken
Dominique three children and five years to realize that Andrew was a complete
narcissist, incapable of loving anyone but himself.
“I don’t want to be like Dad because I’m not ready to be a mother,” Felicity said
unhappily to Dominique.
“You won’t be like him. He’s fairly unique.” Dominique tried not to badmouth
Andrew to their children.
“No, he’s not. I know of lots of bad fathers. And bad mothers. I don’t think Taylor is
ready to be a father either, he’s very immature. I’ve been seeing it more and more ever
since we got engaged. It becomes a major crisis if he doesn’t get his way.”
“Nobody ever feels ready for children. It’s a daunting business and it’s hard, but it’s
worth it.” Dominique smiled and hugged Felicity. “It’s the one thing I’ve never
regretted. I didn’t think I wanted children either. You might like being a mother more
than you can imagine now.”
“I don’t think so,” Felicity said sadly. “And I hate Taylor’s parents, they’re awful,
pretentious and stuck-up and nasty, and they don’t like me or approve of us. They like
Dad because he comes from a fancy WASP family, but they don’t like the rest of us.”
“They’re very small-minded,” Dominique said dismissively.
“They’re worried that the pregnancy will show in my dress, and the baby will be
born four and a half months later. Not exactly premature.”
“You and Taylor will be married when the baby is born, and even if you aren’t, so
what? My parents were never married, and it has never changed anything in my life. It
embarrassed me occasionally as a child, but as an adult, I couldn’t care less. And
nobody gets married to have kids these days. Most of your friends have had babies out
of wedlock, and I see it among my friends all the time. So what flat rock does Elizabeth
live under?”
“They’re totally old-school, and now I’m discovering so is Taylor. He’s much less
liberal and open-minded than he pretended to be before we got engaged.” Her mother
looked at her long and hard then, and asked her the same question she’d asked her son
before he married, and who at one time had had second thoughts.
“Do you want to marry him, Felicity?” Dominique asked her directly.
“I think so. Yes,” but it hadn’t rolled easily off her tongue.
“I want to be clear with you. I don’t care how much I spent on the wedding, or how
much money I’ll lose, or how many people are coming to the wedding, or how important
they are. Right up until the moment you say ‘I do,’ if you don’t want to marry him, or you
change your mind, don’t marry him. Your future happiness is much, much more
important than some big splashy wedding at the Met. That’ll be over in five minutes. If
you marry the wrong man, that can hurt you for a very long time. So if you want to back
out, right up to the very last minute, I’m with you, and I’ll handle everything and you’ll
be out. I told Tommy that with Marlene, that if he wanted to back out at the last minute,
he had my blessing. That’s not because I’m not crazy about Marlene. I want each of you
to be happy, and to marry the people you love and who love you. No matter who that is.
Just keep it in mind, and if you change your mind, tell me. You don’t have to put up with
some little greedy, nasty person who would make you unhappy. So Taylor Whitfield is
not a sure thing,” Dominique said firmly, “unless you say so.”
“He thinks he is,” Felicity said sadly. “He’s getting very controlling, and that’s not
the kind of relationship I want. A dictatorship where I have no say about anything.
That’s not the marriage I want. I think he’s just nervous,” she said with forgiveness.
Dominique wasn’t so sure. She didn’t like Taylor, but who Felicity married was
entirely up to her. Dominique believed that.
After Felicity went to bed, Dominique wished that she could talk to Bill about it, but
she didn’t dare call him, and then she decided to anyway. If he was busy or asleep, he
wouldn’t pick up.
He sounded discouraged when he answered. “How’s it going?” she asked him.
“Very slowly. She’s having reactions to the medications, and now she’s got shingles.
Probably from the stress. She’ll come through it, but she’s taking our life with it, and I
miss you.” It was nice to hear. Bill was becoming a distant figure in Dominique’s life.
They hardly talked anymore and she had no idea when she’d see him again, even if it
wasn’t his fault.
“I miss you too,” she said with a sigh.
“How’s the bride?”
“I think she’s making a mistake. She’s pregnant and she wanted to terminate, and he
wouldn’t let her. I have a feeling he’s being very hard on her, and she’s not telling me
everything. His parents are just appalling. They want her to get a DNA test to prove the
baby is his.”
“Nice people. Does she have the guts not to go through with it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It takes a lot of courage to cancel a wedding. I told her that I would
fully support her if she did. She always wants to do the right thing, and I think he has a
powerful hold on her. She seems unhappy to me. And I hate to see her start out with a
baby she doesn’t want. This has all the ingredients for a bad marriage, and we both
know what that’s like. It comes at a high price.”
“I can testify to that.” Thirty years later, he was still paying the price. “You were
smart to get out fast. The longer you wait, the harder it is.”
“I had no other choice. Andrew had so many affairs I lost track. He’s bringing
another twenty-two-year-old bimbo to the wedding. He has no relationship with his
kids. Felicity doesn’t even want him there. She won’t let him walk her down the aisle,
and I’m sure he doesn’t want to. She only invited him to be polite and respectful.”
“How’s your mother?” They hadn’t spoken since she got to Paris.
“Happy as can be. She’s the blushing bride, and Clément is wonderful to her.”
“It sounds like she got it right.”
“It only took till she was eighty-five. Maybe when I’m eighty-five we’ll figure it
out,” she said wistfully. “I feel like I’m almost there.”
“So do I,” he said, wishing he could put his arms around her. But Eileen was being
difficult and demanding. She was still in pain, and expecting him to run the nurses and
wait on her hand and foot, and he didn’t want to refuse in her hour of need. They were
married after all. “Hopefully, we’ll get things organized here so I can at least leave the
house.” But he would have to stand up for his right to do that, and he never did. He had
to take a position, and until he did, he and Dominique would only have what they’d had
for sixteen years, leftovers and crumbs and stolen moments, never enough to make a life
or a whole meal. And now, in a crisis, they got nothing at all, and he knew it too.
Dominique had always accepted it because she loved him, but she was no longer sure
how long she could live at subsistence level, or less. She was starving. He never fought
for their relationship, or their future. Her mother was right. If she stayed with Bill, she
would have a very lonely old age. She already was lonely, with no relief in sight.
They talked for a few more minutes, then hung up when one of the nurses came to get
Bill. There was a problem with one of the electrical machines that exercised Eileen’s
legs so they wouldn’t atrophy and she wouldn’t get blood clots.
Dominique and Felicity went back to Liliane Leroy’s studio the next day, and they
had solved the problem. The dress was finished and fit perfectly, and Felicity even had
a little leeway in case her waist thickened further or her breasts grew before the
wedding. Liliane had understood the problem.
They spent the afternoon shopping and had dinner at a fashionable bistro, and flew
back to New York the next day. Dominique went straight from the airport to her office,
since the time difference was in her favor. Her driver dropped Felicity off at home and
took the dress to Dominique’s house, where she would hang it up that night. She
wondered how things were going to be with Taylor when Felicity got back. Dominique
was still livid every time she thought of his mother and what Felicity reported she had
said. Dominique disliked her even more now, and his father was just a mindless drunk
with a routine bank job. Neither of them had set a high standard for their son, who
puffed himself up and pretended to be more than he was. Dominique saw through him,
but Felicity hadn’t. She bought into all his pompous airs and nonsense, and he had
somehow convinced her that she was lucky he was marrying her, which played perfectly
into her meekness and lack of self-confidence. She was the perfect foil for him, and now
she would have his child, which would cement her to him for years, while she struggled
to make the marriage work. It depressed Dominique to think about, and Felicity showed
no sign of wanting to give up, even less so now with a baby. All her instincts and
hormones would drive her to protect the baby and the relationship that had spawned it.
The same instincts had kept Dominique blind to Andrew’s serious flaws for the first
years of their marriage, but eventually she had seen the light and gotten out. But Felicity
wasn’t as strong as she was. She was deeply worried for her daughter.
As the wedding drew closer, the only thing that cheered Felicity was the art show she’d
been working on for eight months. She was proud of the work she’d delivered to the
gallery, and they were excited to show it, and to support a young artist with great
promise. They had invited their entire mailing list, and were expecting a big turnout at
the handsome gallery on Madison Avenue. In the final days before the show, Felicity
thought of nothing else, and forgot all about the wedding, which Dominique was
handling and had in full control. She had told Felicity not to think about a thing except
the show until the opening was over.
Felicity did her hair in a neat French twist, wore very little makeup, and put on a
new pale blue silk dress the color of her eyes. She looked fresh and young and beautiful
when Taylor got home from work, right before she left. He smiled when he saw her. She
looked like a summer sky.
“You look fantastic,” he said, with the look in his eyes and the smile she had fallen
in love with. This was her big night. She reached for her purse to leave and he stopped
her. He was meeting her there later. She wanted to be there early, to speak to the art
critics who came to see the show. “Don’t be so fast,” he said, and kissed her. “What’s
your hurry?”
“I have to be there before the party starts in case the press are there.” She had
already told him before.
“I have a better idea, to bring you luck,” he said, and reached under her skirt for the
prize he was looking for. “It won’t take long,” he said huskily. He loved her growing
breasts and unbuttoned the front of her dress with one hand, and grabbed her breast
while he pulled her underwear down with his other hand, backed her against the wall,
and blocked her there. She gently pushed him away. She knew he didn’t like to be
rebuffed, but she had to go, and didn’t want to look a mess when she got there.
“Taylor, I can’t…not now….” He crushed her more firmly against the wall, her
underwear was down, and he reached under her skirt again, to find what he wanted,
freed himself from his pants with a rapid gesture, and was pressing into her before she
could stop him. She used to think he was sexy when he wanted her any time, any place,
in inappropriate venues or when they were about to do something or go someplace, but
it was demeaning now, and made her feel like a piece of meat and not a woman he
loved. She tried to push him away again and he slammed into her harder, and pinned her
arms wide against the wall. She stopped fighting him so it would be over faster, and she
wouldn’t be any later than she was. He came quickly, as he always did, and he grinned
at her when it was over. There were tears in her eyes, and she hadn’t even noticed how
tightly he had held her arms against the wall. He had hurt her wrists. She wondered if
his pounding her with his full force was bad for the baby, but she couldn’t stop him once
he got started. He was like a bull driving into her.
“Now you’ll remember who you belong to when you go to your art show,” he said
smugly. He always had to prove something, to control her in some way. Her breasts
were exposed from the dress he’d unbuttoned, and he bent down and bit her nipple and
she gave a short scream. He had left teeth marks when he stopped, and a drop of blood,
which she wiped away, buttoning her dress primly, and he let her go to the bathroom to
clean up. She brushed her hair again and sprayed it into place, washed her face, and
straightened her dress. He hadn’t even kissed her while he pounded into her. He hadn’t
raped her, but he was always forceful and aggressive now. He was in charge, and she
was the object he had to possess to prove his manhood. She left the apartment five
minutes later, looking neat again. “I told you it wouldn’t take long,” he shouted after her
and laughed as the door slammed behind her, and she wiped the tears from her eyes. She
couldn’t think about it now. She had waited for this moment for eight months. Her first
important gallery show and even Taylor couldn’t spoil it, no matter how hard he tried.