With an audible sigh, she left and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door and quietly turning the lock. She leaned against the counter and stared blankly into the mirror.

Why did I even think he might notice the dress? Why did I even think it mattered, to him, or to me? she thought to herself. Getting out of the house mattered. Feeling good about herself mattered. She wished he wasn't coming. Civility between them had become a sickening strain, but no one in their tight-assed, straight-laced, catty and WASPish suburb had any idea that they had almost parted ways last summer - and the summer before as well. And just last month he brought it up again. Like stinging vomit, it kept returning, and she just kept swallowing it back down. It was more sickening each time. No one else knew. And all she knew was that most divorced mothers live near the poverty line. That would mean no Ralph Lauren dresses, not even at fifty percent off. No more manicures. No sable paint brushes. Nothing. A dark fear swept over her as she realized that what she had right now was worth exactly that: nothing. She felt degraded and lonely and cheap.

You're just a stupid whore, she muttered sadly to her blurred reflection.

~~~

During the concert he barely spoke to her. He barely spoke to their friends. Thank goodness the music was loud so conversation was nearly impossible anyhow. She didn't need to explain or apologize or feel awkward. Yet she did - she felt awkward and self-conscious, and she could scarcely breathe when he frowned disapprovingly at her. Once, she felt like dancing, and the urgent beat of the rocking music made her squirm spontaneously in her seat. How she wished she could jump up and enjoy the pride and pleasure she felt at hearing the kids enthusiastically making their young, exciting music. Too soon the set was over, and Rob motioned sternly with his head. They were outta there. Few words were exchanged as they drove home, came into the house and undressed for bed. Wearily, she lay the black dress down on the chair beside her bed. It wasn't much of a night, but still, the dress was hot. It was some small consolation. She crawled into bed, turned on her side and closed her eyes.