Free The Dress by Kate Kerrigan Page A

wife Minnie was almost in tears.
    â€˜Oh no, Joy, I didn’t mean to...’ As the Martinis kicked in, Frank knew Joy would become even less sympathetic about Minnie’s pitiful attempts to ingratiate herself socially.
    He looked across at Jones and gave him the secret nod that said they needed to start winding things down.
    Within a few minutes Jones announced that cars were outside waiting to take them down to Sardi’s. Things were easier when they were out. The atmosphere was less intense and it didn’t seem as obvious somehow if Joy got drunk in a crowded restaurant as it did in their own apartment in the company of a handful of people.
    â€˜I thought we were eating at home tonight?’ Joy said.
    There she was, his magnificent Joy, in her perfect dress, in their perfect apartment, holding aloft the shiny cocktail shaker, and in that moment Frank suddenly felt something strange happen. The beautiful bare-faced Joy he had breakfasted with a few hours earlier, the real Joy, was gone. He had lost her. Frank gathered himself together. He was being foolish.
    â€˜Oh, sorry darling, did I not say?’
    Jones handed Frank Joy’s fur cape. He walked across the room, draped it around her shoulder and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.
    She closed her eyes and leant against him in sheer, loving bliss. Seeing the other women watching, Frank felt separated from himself, as if he was on a stage, acting in a play he had written, except he had forgotten his lines.
    Over dinner at Sardi’s Joy was snobbishly verbose, just as she had promised Frank she would not be, talking about artists that nobody had heard of and the poor quality of American couture. She managed to get away with it by ordering copious numbers of cocktails and making everyone drink alongside her. Frank held back, cautious of how things might end if they both got drunk together, something that was happening less and less often. By the time dessert came, poor Minnie was drooling on her husband’s shoulder. Finally, Ted Yewdell carried his legless wife out of the restaurant, full of apologies for her sorry state.
    â€˜ That was embarrassing,’ Joy said, making a face after them while her friends laughed. Frank felt furious.
    After dinner, when all their friends had gone home, Sardi’s filled up with a party being held by a theatre impresario Joy knew. She insisted they stay on and socialize with the arty set and while Frank wanted to go home, he was too afraid to leave her there alone. As they worked the room separately, Joy fingered her diamond earrings and looked coyly across at her handsome husband, making sure all the women saw her. Frank kept up his buddy-Irishman thing and was all smiles and handshakes and ‘no business talk tonight in front of the ladies’ back slapping. They drank champagne and danced and appeared to everyone like the perfect, happy couple. Frank almost believed they were just that, until after midnight when it was time to go and they hit the fresh air. Without an audience Joy’s transformation from perfectly groomed lady to belligerent drunk was complete. She stumbled against Frank and started shouting that she wanted to return to the party until he managed to cajole her into their car without anyone seeing. She leant against him murmuring, ‘I love you, I love you so much,’ until eventually she fell asleep.
    Frank carried her across the lobby, into the elevator, in through the door of their apartment and laid her down on their bed.
    With her limbs flopping in a dead sleep, Frank easily peeled off Joy’s coat and dress and unwound the string of pearls up over her head. Then, he took off his jacket, loosened his tie and sat on the bed next to her looking, just looking, at his lovely wife. Her perfect pouted lips, her large eyes closed, their half mooned lids framed in that trademark black line she painted on so meticulously each morning. He placed his hand on her forehead and