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would be a perfect bride, a perfect wife and a perfect mother.
And within all this giddiness, there was still the problem of Nellie that
needed to be addressed.
    Nellie called my apartment several times a day. Poor Katt
usually took the brunt of it and I asked my agent to look into changing my
telephone number. I caught Nellie several times hanging around outside my
apartment. I got into the habit of looking down the street before I turned a
corner or having my driver drive past my apartment to make sure she wasn’t
there before he dropped me off. A few times the limo blew past Nellie waiting outside
for me while I hid on the floorboard of the car.
    I told Brandt that I could not go on avoiding her for much
longer and that there was no reason we should hide our relationship. Brandt
promised he would tell her, but every time I asked, he put me off.
    “I’ll take care of it, baby, I promise,” Brandt said one
day as he walked me to my apartment.
    He looked up to the top floor of my building with an odd
smile on his face. He was transfixed as he looked at one of the windows in my
penthouse.
    “What?” I said.
    “I can’t believe that’s yours. I mean, it must be worth a
fortune. Do you really own the whole thing?”
    Brandt never discussed money or what I had versus what he
did or did not. I understood he came from a middle-class family of
professionals who lived in Providence. They didn’t have as much money as my
family, but that was a non-issue. As Brandt said, he was going to be a famous
lawyer and would soon be making his own sizeable income.
    “Yes,” I said. “I own the whole thing. It was transferred
to me when I turned eighteen. Why?”
    “I dunno, just seems excessive,” he said.
    “Well, I wanted a nice place to live and my parents have
the funds. If they didn’t, I would have been just as happy with a walk-up
apartment. And think of it this way, when we’re married, it’ll be a nice
investment or provide a nice down payment for a place in Manhattan.”
    Brandt looked at me and his eyes narrowed.
    “I am the provider,” he said. “You are the homemaker. I
provide the down payment.”
    That day a shift began in the relationship. Nearly
unnoticeable, it’s as if the ground seemed to lower bit by bit and my identity,
such that it was not, was reliant on Brandt to keep it from falling into the
abyss.
    I chastised myself for obviously making Brandt upset and
made a promise that from that day forward, I would concentrate on making sure
that Brandt was nothing but satisfied with me. If he did not approve of me, he
certainly would not marry me. And if he did not marry me, he would leave me and
bestow his gifts on another female. Brandt had integrity made of steel, I
believed. He would not allow anyone to chink his armor. I became obsessed with
not doing anything to Brandt that would give him even a surface scratch’s
displeasure.
    I decided to broach the subject of our marriage plans to
Brandt one evening as we sat in his car in the parking lot of Revere Beach
looking out at the sunset.
    “So,” I said and slid over toward Brandt in the front seat
of his car, “when will you make an honest woman out of me?”
    Brandt threw his arm around me and smiled and I placed my
hand on top of his muscular thigh.
    “Aren’t you honest?” He said and put his hand under my
chin and tilted my head up until we stared into each other’s eyes.
    “It’s an expression,” I said and kissed him on the cheek.
“I just want to be with you. You know, in that way.”
    “Oh, in that way,” he said and laughed.
    I blushed and looked down in my lap.
    “I’m sorry, I wasn’t pushing you,” I said.
    Brandt dug his fingertips into my shoulders and twisted me
toward him. He ran his hand slowly up my back, under my hair and gripped the
back of my neck.
    “Is Sophia having a hard time with our relationship?”
Brandt said as he looked into my eyes. “Does she want more of me?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Which? You’re