Then...

Rose caught a cold or flu or a 24-hour bug, but she intended to attend the Kris Kristofferson concert anyway. She took Clariton and sucked cough drops. She drank endless cups of tea. She couldn’t get warm. She couldn’t remember if the concert hall would be warm or cold. Before the concert, she dressed in her favorite jeans and wrapped herself in a peasant shawl that her sister had bought in Amish country. She filled her handbag with Kleenex. She knew she should stay home in bed, but she had looked forward to the concert all week.

Ben decided at the last minute not to attend the Kris Kristofferson concert. I shouldn’t skip play rehearsal, he said. Anyway, you’re sick.

I’m not sick, she said coldly. I’ve been wearing myself out coaching your actors. I’m sick of being an unpaid slave.

Rose felt vaguely shocked at herself, but was fed up. Fed up with the whole show: the hours of volunteer work, the never-ending projects, other people’s assumptions that Ben was selfless. She wanted a weekend in a luxury hotel in a glamorous city, or on a tropical island that they couldn’t possibly visit because of its history of exploitation. None of her friends had a conscience. They all went to these places.

Good God, couldn’t she just have fun? Girls just wanna have fun. Rose and Cyndi Lauper together at last. No. Fun had been sucked out of her by a vacuum cleaner of the psyche.

Rose attended the Chris Kristofferson concert alone. His music wasn’t exactly her thing, but she and her friends had fallen in love with him in ALICE DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANY MORE and THE SAILOR WHO FELL FROM GRACE. The woman next to her cried during the sad songs and sang along to the lines she seemed to find poignant. Rose cried a little, too. It wasn’t so much the music as the fact that she was sick.

She was furious that Ben wasn’t home when she got home. Play rehearsal didn’t run THAT late. What had been the point of their weekend away if he was going to start up again as soon as they got home? She stayed up till 12:30 watching a movie on TV, but he hadn’t come home.

In the morning she left him sleeping and went out sneezing to the mall to check out the sales.

Where’ve you been? Ben asked when she came home.

Out.

Play rehearsal’s appalling without you. I had to stay late and tutor last night. They WILL not learn their lines. And the ones who know them overact.

Who cares? Rose said. Just let them do a reading, for God’s sake.

Ben roared, glaring. I thought you wanted to help.

No, I don’t. Rose glared back. I did the PR. You won’t go to concerts with me, I won’t coach the actors.

She sneezed and went to bed with her Kingsley Amis book. No more Ms. Nice Guy, she vowed.

Ben went out and bought her a brioche. To make up for things, he said.

Rose sighed and ate the brioche. You don't get it.