I had thought that most housewives in Venus Lane were like Meryl.Perfect, clean, good cooks.
And I was right.
The very next day was a Monday in late August.All the men of the houses were going off to work.Before they went off, each of their wives came out, wearing pearls and a designer dress with an apron on and kissed their husbands on the cheek, waving goodbye to them as they set off to work in their flashy sportscars.
I watched them, amazed.I had experience of suburban life already back in Chicago, but this was different.Back in Chicago, nobody was perfect.Not everybody was well off, either.Whereas here, it was all wholesome families.
So on that morning, I dreaded the prospect of living in this Utopia.Why?
Because I knew a definite fact: nobody is perfect.And under all those perfect facades lurked secrets, secrets that could tear the neighbourhood or their families apart.And I knew that those secrets could possibly turn Utopia into Hell.