Kidd Christy - A modern marriage: a memoir

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Gallery Books

A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright 2014 by Christy Kidd

NOTE TO READERS: The names of places and many people in this book have been changed, including those in the authors own family.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Gallery Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Gallery Books hardcover edition November 2014

GALLERY BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

Interior design by Julie Schroeder

Jacket design by Jason Gabbert

Jacket art by Shutterstock

ISBN 978-1-4767-5346-1

ISBN 978-1-4767-5348-5 (ebook)

To those persons who choose to live life on their own terms and without regrets.

Its the journey that matters, not so much the destination.

Because anything can happen....

A maroon velvet curtain.

Thats what first caught my eye.

A thick maroon velvet curtain hanging down in the back of a loft apartment, preventing me from seeing into the room or rooms behind. What was that doing there? A curtain so heavy that no light penetrated it from behind, signaling that whatever was back there must have been really taboo. I thought this was supposed to be a regular open-door New Years Eve party. Why was part of it sectioned off?

The ad in Time Out New York had been straightforward enough: a hundred-dollar entrance fee for a festive all-you-could-drink New Years Eve bash. True, there was kind of a hush-hush vibe to it, a secret password that we had to speak into the intercom outside the door to be buzzed in. The location was a little sketchy, too, come to think of it: two floors of a loft in the Garment District, which after business hours is one of the darker and more abandoned sections of Midtown. And the party itself definitely had an edge, no question about ita skeazy, red-light sort of edge, sexy in a good way, though we couldnt say exactly why.

But I didnt need this. Mark and I were feeling lonely enough without finding ourselves on the wrong side of a velvet curtain. We were still relatively new to New York. We didnt need a reminder that we werent seriously part of any scene or group. Two babes in the wood, thats how we sometimes felt, left to our own devices in the Big Apple. Which is why we had scanned the ads, looking for a chance to explore the New York scene and hang with some like-minded locals. So what was a velvet curtain doing there, with a black-suited guard standing in front of it?

Mark had gone to the bathroomnerves, most likelyso I sauntered over to the curtain alone. I felt confident that night in my formfitting, black sequined dress that was striking against my blond hair and new vermilion red lipstick.

I approached the sentry, or bouncer, or whatever he was. Asked what he was being so exclusive about, or wasnt he going to tell me?

No ones allowed inside... unless theyre with their partner, he said with a wink.

A wink ? What was that supposed to mean? Mark strode back from the bathroom and I remembered suddenly why I was still so attracted to him. He was dressed simply: dark denim jeans, black T-shirt, and blazer. I filled him in about the mysterious wink and we stood there discussing a minute. Here we were, as I said, virtually alone in the big city.

Alone . Free. We didnt have to report to anyone, didnt have to get anyones approval. Sharing our Dr Pepper as usual to remind us of our roots, we realized that we were alone in the best sense of the word, with all the adventurous possibilities that entailed. No one knew us. No one could tattle on us. We were as anonymous as anyone could be in a city of eight million people. And anonymity could be our engine to explore. We were responsible adults, holding down responsible jobs, but we were also young and charged. Eager and hungry. Ready for anything NYC had in store for us. No curtain could hold us backnot even a dark velvet one.

Instinctually, we took each others hands.

And thats probably the main thing you need to know about us, about this book, about this lifestyle. We held each others hands.

Whatever was beyond that curtain, it would not distract us from each other. It would focus us on each other.

It would not destroy us as a couple. It would strengthen us as a couple.

That was the plan, anyway, as we approached the curtain. The hope and intention. Could we manage it, after five years of marriage? Could we pass through that curtain, start down that path, whatever dangers lay ahead, and keep our union intact?

The curtain opened...

Im Christy Kidd. Ive been happily married for fourteen years, and weve never lost our passion for each other. On the one hand, theres the me that lives by routine. Monday night is taco nightordering from our favorite Mexican place down the street every week. Friday night is date nightpizza and a movie. Every other Saturday morning is volunteer work with the kittens at the nearby animal shelter.

On the other hand, theres the me thats enthralled by that velvet curtain and the promise of the forbidden.

By day, Im a hardworking, superconscientious accountant. By night... Well, youll find out.

Some people may refer to me as a southern belle, so genuinely sweet and innocent that no one would ever imagine there was another side to me. Like if I say a curse word at work, people stop and say, That sounds so cute coming from you!

And heres a surprise. You know what made me this way? In one word: Texas.

Before there was even the hint of a velvet curtain in my life, there was Texas. Ive often thought that the only way anyone would ever start to understand what Im likedeeply conventional but also drawn to the illicit side of thingswas if I could explain the unique phenomenon of growing up Texas. Its like nothing else this planet has to offer.

Texas in the 1940sa long time ago and a faraway place.

My mother, Carol, was born in 1947 on the outskirts of Dallas, the youngest of six children. She herself says she was unexpected. She lived with her parents and loved them both dearly. Her daddy, Olin Willoughby, was a janitor for the local school district and later at a Woolworths in downtown Dallas. Bessie was a stay-at-home housewife. Mom didnt go to college, but worked as a teacher and babysitter at a nearby religious day care center. She was brought up Baptist, and the Lords word always counted high up in her list of things to be reverent about.

Moms first marriage at the age of nineteen lasted a grand total of two weeks. It wasnt what youd call a fancy weddingjust a hit-and-run at the local justice of the peace. Her husbands name was David, and he showed his true colors right off the bat. On the drive back from their honeymoon in Oklahoma he snapped and tried to run their car off the road. Both of them were naive virgins on the wedding night, as far as I know. A fact that taught me something pretty important: Traditional morality may tell you to safeguard your virtue, but offers no guarantees. Look how it worked for my mom and her guy!