On Tuesday Helen will turn 50. Bring out the confetti and line up the red balloons. The plans are all set and everyone is ready to go. The age of fifty, that is for a woman, is not just another milestone but rather is the one milestone that really counts. If thirty is the new twenty and forty is the new thirty, does that mean that fifty is not so bad after all?
For years, Helen did her best to fight the process of aging. Dr. Schechter down at the Beverly Hills Clinic always was a miracle maker. There was nothing that God put in place that the good doctor could not modify to some degree. Helen’s skin was as soft as a college sorority girl’s, her breasts were perky, and her lips more full than ever before.
Helen did her shopping down at the Galleria Mall. She spent most of her husband’s money on brand name shoes, designer jeans and pricey accessories. Joshua had more money than he knew what to do with. She in turn fulfilled her matrimonial obligations through the provision of his capital at those affluent shops where supercilious employees made her feel as if she was so much better than most other customers who walked through the door. Helen claimed that she was doing her best to support the local economy. Every citizen had to fulfill their civic obligation. America depended on the initiative of its citizenry in order to overcome the elongated recession. With every pair of gem earrings, $75 pair of lace underwear and exclusive European handbags, Helen fulfilled her patriot duty to the red, white and blue.
Yet, life felt as empty as it did more than thirty years ago when Joshua and her first met down at the UCLA cafeteria where undergraduate students walked around oblivious to what life had in store for them for days to come.
Joshua proposed twelve months later. Their daughter Angela was born on the month of July. Later Spencer arrived, her husband’s pride and joy that was groomed to take over the family’s law practice just as soon as he would graduate from Georgetown University.
Helen was the perfect mother and wife. Her hair was platinum and her ass was tight. Throughout the years she wore and dressed the part like the rest of her LA trophy wife girlfriends who pretty much all shared the same dreadful predicament. Sell your body to his bank account and your soul will soon follow.
As the years went by, she learned to put her needs at the end of the priority list. Everyone else was way too busy to ever listen to the wishes of her heart. While so many men approached her, she refused their propositions. Of course, no one was to know or to speak of that one weekend down at the Dominican Republic went she first met David. That was a rare exception indeed to her consistent faithfulness to the man that she married and but did not love.
A dry breeze passed through Sunset Boulevard. Helen sat around alone on the white Italian leather sofa and listened to the trees singing their melancholy song. Joshua would not return from the California Bar Association meeting until around midnight. Joshua never took Helen to his professional functions. That is, he used to before the one time when she had too much to drink. Like a child, he admonished her without a second chance. Now she was left alone at home with the television as her only companion. Helen took the time to carefully prepare his best Armani jacket for him along with his lucky pink tie. He must have not noticed it hanging on the back of the dresser. Now she was left at home with an empty suite and a high definition television. Her long-haired Persian cat did not take away from the bareness of their home. And as for children, none ever demonstrated any degree of appreciation or gratitude.
Angela promised to come over and visit only to then change her mind. Spencer had a new girlfriend who was all tits and bones. Helen knew exactly how those two would end up.
On Tuesday Helen will turn 50. She never imagined that her life would turn out this way. But it was too late to make changes.
At least that was what she thought before Fred came into her life.
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