In a former life, Doris Wright was a newspaper reporter and feature writer.  In recent years she attended novel and poetry workshops at the Colgate Writers’ Conference, the New York State Summer Writers’ Institute fiction workshop, and the Algonkian Writer’s Conference and Pitch Conference. She was runner-up in the summer ’08 and spring ’09 Women on Writing flash-fiction contests.   The following is from Cabbagehead, a novel in progress.

Chapter 6

When Calley Wagner, Bradley’s wife, returned from her business trip, before she swung by her home to drop off her luggage or went to her office to pick up her messages, even prior to going to the gym for a session with her personal trainer, she made a stop at a downtown hotel famous for its oyster bisque to have lunch with Bradley’s boss. He greeted her warmly but ostensibly in the realm of professionalism, and their shared demeanor, if observed by any interested party, would appear to represent that of two business colleagues who had for many years engaged in mutual interests.  This would have been an accurate observation, because their mutual interest was Bradley, whose well-being was important to both, though for different reasons.

They placed their orders and started on their first drinks, a vodka neat for him and a glass of Chardonnay for her, from which she occasionally took a timed and thoughtful sip.  Calley knew exactly how much she could drink and still remain in control, and control was what Calley was all about.  Ted Reniery, on the other hand, now almost finished with his vodka, was all about lust.

Calley and Ted, both blessed with good business instincts, had quickly recognized each other’s attributes and propensities when they met twenty-five years ago at an office social function designed to welcome new hires, Bradley being one.  Ted had been rendered almost dumb by the young employee’s strikingly beautiful, bright, and charming wife.  Many women, including his own wife who had a 155 IQ, had one or the other of those features to an extreme degree, or even all of them to a moderately high level, but Calley was blessed with them all in excess.   She could have chosen to be a model, he thought at this initial encounter, while recognizing that her impressive breasts might have been a hindrance in that field.  He caught himself imagining some exploratory work on them in another kind of field, soon wisely pulled himself from that train of thought, but continued his observation of the subject.

Every part of her was perfect and nicely blended to complement the whole.  Her shining blond hair, which she frequently shook when she threw her head back to laugh, her thickly lashed, playful green eyes, her flawless. creamy skin, her flashing perfect teeth and full lips, full hips, flat belly, her wonderful legs, her long, long legs…. he was almost in a reverie when nudged by his wife (who didn’t need a high IQ to interpret his silence and follow his stare).

Ted turned his attention and his own considerable reparative charm to his wife for a few moments, and then did his duty mingling among the other guests, including Bradley, who was polite, attentive and affable, and probably capable—his degree and grades would indicate so.  But Bradley seemed only to respond to Ted’s queries, and not introduce any of his own.  He didn’t ask Ted anything about himself, which Ted found to be an annoying trait in others, since having the opportunity to talk about himself was always fun and more interesting than talking about other topics.   It was not so easy to keep talking about himself when no questions were posed.  Still, he managed to do so.

Finally…finally…Bradley’s wife left the little group that had gathered around her and joined them.  Instantly, the conversation became light and animated and amusing.  More head tossing, more teeth flashing, more of her addictive laughter.  After a moment, she asked Bradley to get her another drink (although she still had a half glass full of wine) and asked Ted questions about himself.  She seemed truly interested in his responses, looking intently into his eyes, and at appropriate moments placing her hand on his arm in a gesture of earnestness.  At one point she leaned over into him—with heels she exceeded his height by several inches—to share some personal observation, her hair lightly brushed his cheek, and he found himself making an observation of his own, of her tastefully revealed cleavage.   Bradley returned with her drink, which, Ted noticed, after thanking her husband for it with a sweet smile, she placed on a table, and continued to sip the drink she already had.

Someone signaled Ted that it was time for him to make the welcoming speech, which he issued with more than the usual amount of enthusiasm, mentioning the happy addition of Bradley’s charming wife to future company functions, and making a mental note that it would be good for employee morale to increase the frequency of these gatherings.   This had been the start of a reciprocal relationship.

The first year of their affair had been wild, frenzied, where they met dangerously for some out-of- the-way necking, a grope, a feel, exploration of those breasts which exceeded his fantasies of them, and much teasing, he felt, on her part.  It was like he was back in adolescence at a drive-in theater, and found that, while sexually frustrating, this kind of pre-mating exercise was strangely exhilarating.  She kept him at bay for months, but finally yielded, once it became clear to him what she expected in return, and he acquiesced.  She wanted Bradley to succeed, and she wanted to be kept informed of his progress.  Ted wanted to have sex with Calley as often as possible.  Agreed.  Ted was sure he had the better part of the deal.

Calley planned everything, the time, location and conditions of their first lovemaking and subsequent meetings.  Ted appreciated her handling these details, which were careful in the extreme.  They both had jobs and marriages to protect.  And he found her clinical, organized approach exciting, but then everything about her was exciting.

But it had not always been so.   Though born bright, she was not always beautiful and charming.  She was not even Calley Wagner.  She was the half Hispanic, half red-neck daughter of Bud Schenck and Melba Alvarez who named their chubby, cranky, colicky baby daughter, Brandy, after Melba’s favorite soap opera star and Bud’s favorite beverage.

An army private when Brandy was born, Bud believed the Army was the key to a future for himself and his family, and brought them with him from base to base where his wife supplemented the family income as a domestic worker, producing more babies along the way.  No more than a private after 15 years due to occasional episodes of disorderly behavior, Bud finally became discouraged with his lack of progress, left his military career and settled down in Enid, Oklahoma, taking a job as a heavy equipment operator.

During the military years, Brandy had never been in one place long enough to develop a knack for making friends.  She spent much of her time reading, eating cookies, and trying to drown out the noise generated by her younger brothers and sisters, her parents’ arguments, and the always-turned-on television.  Throughout her school years, Brandy had suffered the taunts of army brats, who teased her because her rotund and bosomy mother spoke with an accent, and because of her rowdy passel of brothers and sisters, her father’s low rank, her own chubbiness and shabby clothes, and, more recently, her darkening lip hair.

When they settled in Enid, young Brandy began high school and hoped her life would improve.  But while her new classmates had known each other for years, Brandy was a new and unappealing intruder into their cliques, a plump and racially mixed one at that.

After suffering regular humiliation and torment at the hands of her peers, and finding no solace at home in a family too busy and too troubled to pay attention to her, a family that she despised by now  (they were, she felt, to blame for all of her misfortunes), she isolated herself, and studied and read even more.  She discovered in books not only solace for her loneliness and pain, but a road map for her way out.  Here were the ideas and knowledge that broadened and brightened her shabby world.  Here were the people she wanted to be like and be with.

The movies she saw, even the television soap operas her mother watched, helped her define her personal ideal.  She rejected the lusty, buxom stars that wore bright red lipstick and garish, tight clothes with plunging necklines.  They were, she felt, crude, cheap, and vulgar.  But most importantly, they didn’t win in the end.  They were the pathetic women that men desired, took as mistresses, but threw aside as soon as they became inconvenient.

Brandy yearned to be like the screen’s cool, sophisticated blondes. They were icily beautiful and svelte, had shiny pageboys and wore simple though elegant black or cream-colored dresses.  They were desired but untouchable, until they themselves wished otherwise.

And, so, she began to formulate plans for her transformation.

The summer before her sophomore year, she put aside her books.  She found a job at the YWCA, used their fitness equipment during her lunch break, and swam in the pool after work.  She gave up sweets and fatty foods and became a vegetarian.  And she applied for a scholarship to Our Lady of Agony, a private Catholic high school.

She scored well on the entrance exam and edged out other candidates by claiming to be Hispanic, suspecting correctly that the school had interests in becoming more diversified, at least on paper.  Then she never again alluded to that fact.

She made her uniforms on her mother’s sewing machine and saved most of her pay, using it only for such key purchases as Jolene Crème Bleach for the lightening of facial hair, and hair dye.  She administered the latter gradually over the summer, so the change was never a drastic one, and over time barely noticeable.  By the time she started the tenth grade at her new school, she had lost twenty pounds, her hair was a light golden brown, and she blended in with the rest of her classmates.

Brandy worked hard to sustain her scholarship, studying in the quiet of the library, while still working at the Y and exercising.  She continued to hoard her pay—by now she had received several raises, but never told her parents about the increases, afraid they or her siblings might pester her for a loan.

She spent as little time as possible at home. When her mother asked her to help out with the younger children, Brandy claimed to have schoolwork or special projects.  Her mother, who had attended school only through the eighth grade but honored education, relied instead for help from Brandy’s next-younger sister, who had no interest in school herself and was better liked by the little ones than their sullen oldest sister.

While Brandy was more accepted in school now, and in uniform appeared no different than her peers, she had little interest in developing close friendships with them.  After all, these weren’t the people who would make a difference in her life.  The boys—she thought them silly and immature—had noticed her, especially her developing chest, but she had no intention of getting in trouble with one of them, having to marry before she was ready, and becoming a baby-making machine like her mother.  But she could practice her performance on these boys and girls, use them to develop social skills and refine the persona that she would use in her new life.

Brandy thought of herself as an actress on the screen.  She had cast herself in a part that required the dignity of Eva Marie Saint and the steely frostiness of Grace Kelly, the deep voice of Blythe Danner, and the throaty, full-body laughter of Kathleen Turner.  They were all blondes, of course.

With her new confidence, she found that others seemed to like her now.  She no longer hesitated to speak up or make jokes or flirt with boys.  She didn’t take her conquests seriously, always maintaining a safe distance.  She had too much to do: study, exercise, and improve.  That was her mantra.  Only when those requirements were taken care of would she allow herself time to socialize, to have fun or be idle.

Realizing early on that she would need club membership for her college applications, she joined the clubs that she felt she could take excel in and run by her senior year.  She was single minded, and so, she succeeded.  She was the yearbook editor (a job no one else wanted), president of the debate club, and vice-president of her senior class.  She scored high on her SATs, was class valedictorian, and easily got into the college of her choice with generous scholarships.

During the summer before college, Brandy turned eighteen, and quietly changed her name.  Now that she was of age, she didn’t need her parent’s approval and she didn’t let them know.  She had planned this move since she was fourteen, despising the name that her earlier classmates had chanted in taunting jeers.  She had put much time and thought over the last several years into considering various names, searching for one with just the right sound of success.   A name like Brandy would never do.  It suited a cheerleader or a pop teen idol, but not a woman who planned to be a success in her own right, in business or law.  And Schenck, well it conjured up…what?  A snort?  A clank?  A plumbing noise?

And so, Calley Wagner was born.

She chose “Wagner” because it was properly waspish, and “Calley” balanced it with the right combination of mystery, playfulness, and approachability; it was different but not too odd; and she liked the sound of the two names together.  She planned to have a new life; it was only fitting to have a new name.  And…it would be harder to trace her, should anyone care to.

Calley continued to work in her summer job, but now it was time to dip into her long-hoarded savings.  She took a day off from work and took a bus to Oklahoma City where she indulged in a shopping trip that resulted in expensive but thoughtfully considered purchases.  Since she couldn’t afford to purchase a new wardrobe each season, she stuck with classic styles that would always be in fashion: well-made skirts and sweaters in neutral colors that could be worn in several combinations; a camel-colored blazer, a grey-brown tweed coat, warm leather gloves, and stylish boots.  She would have to forgo good underwear or nightgowns; their value was limited as they weren’t visible—not yet, anyway.  She couldn’t afford an assortment of jewelry, but bought herself a 14k gold chain and some simple gold earrings that became her staple and trademark.

Then she visited an upscale salon where she had, for the first time, her hair professionally dyed a toned-down ash blonde, and her long, wavy hair straightened and cut into a sleek pageboy.

She returned home on the evening bus, tired and, oddly for her, happy.  Alone on her seat in the back of the darkened bus, imagining her future—it was so close now, so close, she could almost reach out and touch it—she found herself becoming aroused.  Making sure she wasn’t being watched, she put one of the shopping bags on her lap, reached her hand underneath her skirt, slowly gathered it up, and subtly, carefully so as not to be noticed, massaged herself until she was relieved.

Now she knew what it was like to be in love.   She would have everything she wanted.  She knew how to make it happen.