September 2012

“Am I wrong to hunger for the gentleness of your touch? Knowin’ you’ve got someone else at home who needs you just as much? If I can’t see you when I want to, I’ll see you when I can.”

-If Loving You is Wrong, I Don’t Wanna be Right, Millie Jackson

Monthly meeting of the Scarlet Letter Society.

Zoomdweebies Café

Friday, September 7, 2012

5:30 a.m.

Yes, we’re reading a damn book this month. It’s Wifey by Judy Blume. You remember Judy Blume, from Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret? Well, this was the slutty one after Forever and you weren’t allowed to read either one of them growing up, so we’re reading Wifey now. Pick up your copy from Zarina at Zoomdweebies ASAP.

“The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared not tread.”

-The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne

Ron walked into her office with a raging boner. They had been sexting all morning, and he was horny as hell and couldn’t take it another minute. He thanked the gods of pleasure that her office had blinds, and that they were normally kept shut. He was especially thankful for the lock on the door, one of the perks of having her name on it.

As he closed the door, he undid his tie. She looked up from her desk, above her dark teal cat-eye glasses, and smiled lazily.

“Looks like someone is glad to see me this morning.”

“I can’t stand it another minute,” said Ron. “If you’re going to be sending me pictures of your tits, this is what you should expect.” He glanced down at his bulging crotch, where she was already looking.

She slowly unfastened the buttons of her mint green silk blouse. She wore a tight, short black skirt with a G-string underneath.

Removing her blouse revealed a skin-toned seamless lace bra that also allowed Ron a preview of her rosy nipples. They were already hardening in anticipation of his touch. She placed the blouse over the edge of her cream leather office chair. She walked around to the front of her antique oak desk. She’d salvaged it from an auction for a ridiculous fifty dollars, and had learned in the past to be thankful for its sturdiness. She turned around to face away from Ron, who already had his hands on the sides of her ribcage as she swirled her hips and rubbed against him. He breathed out audibly. She cleared a few items from the desk and turned to face him. Removing her panties quickly, she placed her hands on the edge of the desk and hopped up. She already knew the angle was perfect.

Ron grabbed the back of her head with his left hand while his right hand explored and teased her nipples. She lifted her chest to meet his touch, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. His shirt was already on the floor from where he dropped it on the way to her desk, but his tie remained loosely around his neck. As he stepped out of his pants, she grabbed the tie to pull him back to her, passionately kissing him and darting her tongue into his eager mouth.

There wasn’t much time for foreplay in an office where they knew anyone could come to the door. The heat of the encounter left little need for foreplay anyway. She held the tie with her left hand, using her right hand to stroke him a few times. He moaned softly.

“I want you,” he said.

“Then take me,” she responded, spreading her legs. She still wore one of the Jimmy Choo black leather pumps she’d put on that morning; the other had hit the floor when she jumped onto her own desk.

He thrust into her as she sighed, already wet from the sight of him walking through the door. She tightened her grip on the tie around his neck, twisting it tighter. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh that’s how it’s going to be?” he breathed.

“If I had time, you know I’d use it to tie you up,” she said.

“I’d love it,” he said. Sex between them was always a power play, and the exchange of that power was madly erotic to both of them. With his left hand around her ass, he used his right hand to grab her long, straight blonde hair and twist, then pull it firmly.

They came together in the frenzy of heat that only forbidden sex can generate. He looked into her ice blue eyes.

“That was amazing, Nicole,” he said.

“It always is with us, Ron,” she said. “Why don’t we just get fucking married and call it a day?”

She winked at him and smiled a cocky smile, and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. He found himself surprised at wishing that she was.

“Well maybe we should just think about doing something fucking insane like that one day,” said Ron in what he hoped was the same are-we-kidding-or-not tone. He smiled at her as he got dressed. She walked around to the chair, put on her blouse as he put on his shirt, and they stared at each other while each buttoned buttons.

She walked around the desk, straightening the nameplate that read “Nicole Shaw, Managing Editor.” At twenty-nine, she was the youngest woman in the history of the Washington News to serve this role, and she was quite pleased about it. Ron embraced her. They agreed to meet for cocktails after work, and he left the newspaper office and walked the two blocks to the law firm and his internship.

On the night of the Pop Rocks encounter, Eva had barely remembered returning to her room. The combination of the wine and the champagne and the romantic evening hit her all at once, and she wasn’t even sure how she had made it into bed after the delicious night.

In the morning, she awoke in her bed and found a note.

Eva,

Seeing you vulnerable and taking care of you brought me many feelings. I want us both to take the day off today and enjoy the city and talk. Call me.

Charles

G-Chat With Charles

embradley@smithcohenbradley.com

9:35 PM Charles: Madame, I owe you an apology.

Eva: Whatever for, darling chef?

Charles: We have been too distant. I feel it is my fault. It is not what I want, and I’m sorry.

Eva: You haven’t done anything wrong. You were right. You had to physically carry me up to bed because I’d had so much to drink, so I was vulnerable. I know you had reasons for not wanting to worry about me.

9:39 PM Charles: You should not have to suffer because of what I went through losing my wife.

Eva: I didn’t blame you. I’ve just been busy in DC- I’m sorry I haven’t been to New York in a few weeks.

9:40 PM Charles: I wanted the evening to be perfect for you. Maybe the popping candy rocks were a bad idea?

9:41 PM Eva: I am spelling out “laughing out loud” right now because I don’t think you would know what the LOL abbreviation would stand for. Pop Rocks. They are called Pop Rocks. And they were a perfectly wonderful idea.

9:43 PM Charles: If I am to be honest, I’m not sure how to handle my feelings for you.

9:45 PM Eva: I am always happy when I’m with you. You make me laugh. I can’t thank you enough for that.

Charles: You fill my heart with joy.

9:46 PM Eva: That is probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me—thank you.

Charles: I am scared to give you my heart because I cannot stand for it to be broken again.

9:47 PM Eva: I understand. But you should know I’m not an alcoholic like my father was. I know how to control my drinking. I know you didn’t mean to suggest otherwise and be hurtful.

Charles: And for this I am so sorry to have even possibly hurt you, but not sorry to have cared.

9:50 PM Eva: Thank you for saying so. I’m sorry you’re dealing with such a complicated woman. You deserve better, someone who would give you 100% of herself.

9:51 PM Charles: There is no better.

Eva: Let’s talk about it when I get to New York. Maybe you can make the banana French toast you know I love.

9:53 PM Charles: Mais oui. Anything for our hotel’s most distinguished guests, madame.

  Eva: Well I have come to expect a certain level of treatment, thanks to your generous service, monsieur. I’ll see you in a few days, Charles.

9:55 PM Charles: May time pass quickly until then.

Just a baby, wrote Lisa in her journal. Only this.

She looked at the words, and thought about it for a moment.

Was that really all she wanted?

It didn’t seem to be that simple. If the only important thing in her life was having a baby, she’d be focused on making her marriage better, including having more sex as part of it, scheduling fertility treatments, resting, whatever. Not getting up at 3 AM and not being able to fall back asleep because she wondered if there was a new email from Ben.

What if? she wrote, That Heart song could happen.

She had thought of the song a hundred times lately, and now jotted down the song title: “All I Want to Do Is Make Love to You.” The story in the song was that a woman’s husband couldn’t get her pregnant, so she trolled around picking up hot hitchhikers and taking them to a hotel room to have sex with them so that she could get knocked up. It worked, as proven by the lyric about running into the hitchhiker later on, while with her child. Lisa wrote down the remembered lyric: “You can imagine his surprise, when he saw his own eyes.”

What a ridiculous song, thought Lisa, smiling almost to laughter. How many ways are there to get sperm in this world that a chick has to resort to driving around, picking up potential serial killer/STD carrying strangers, in order to get pregnant?

But what if it wasn’t a stranger? she wrote. What if it was a guy you knew, a guy whose child you wouldn’t mind raising, even if he never knew of the child’s existence?

She wasn’t even sure it was her husband’s fault they couldn’t get pregnant. He had been clocked with a low sperm count, but she knew that if they optimized all the conditions, she really should eventually be able to conceive in one of the months after years of trying. They really hadn’t discussed it all that much. She never got the sense that having a baby was a priority for Jim, at least not like it was for her.

We’re not even really trying that hard, Lisa wrote.

She thought of how Jim never really made it a priority. It wasn’t like he was checking the calendar in the kitchen with the big red star on it every month, the date of her highest fertility. How she’d love it if he did something romantic on that date instead of bringing home a new pair of shoes for her that she didn’t even want.

At least bring me some damn shoes on a red star day, wrote Lisa.

She resented the fact that he didn’t care enough about how much she wanted a baby. And sometimes, deep in a part of her that no one would recognize, she fantasized about driving a Christian Louboutin spike heel right through his eyeball.

At her penthouse apartment overlooking the creek in downtown Keytown, Kate brought Maggie’s tea to the coffee table. She had just returned from teaching her class at the liberal arts college and was happy to unwind. Maggie smiled, thanking her for remembering that Orange Pekoe with honey was her favorite.

They sat beside each other on the plush suede couch, enjoying the view and chatting. Maggie told Kate of her confusion over her relationship with Dave in light of her relationship with Ted, and how all of it was ridiculous in light of her divorce proceedings.

Kate listened. She reassured Maggie that none of it was out of the ordinary and that Maggie just seemed to be playing with boundaries and figuring out what she wanted in her life. Although Kate was once married, she had always identified herself as bisexual and shared an open marriage with her husband before he died.

Maggie asked her, “And what about this new relationship with you? It’s been amazing, but as you know, I’ve never experienced anything like it. Now all of a sudden, I’m trying to figure out if I’m a lesbian, or what’s going on.”

Kate smiled at her. “Well, being with a woman for the first time in your late forties doesn’t automatically mean you’re a lesbian, although many women come out in their fifties. Besides, labels are always the things that cause all the problems for everyone. If only we could all learn to avoid them.”

“You’re right. The experience was just so completely unexpected,” said Maggie. “And so completely natural. Being with a woman is night and day from being with a man, that’s for sure.”

“Oh no doubt,” said Kate, smiling. “It’s like having a girlfriend, but closer and obviously more intimate. It’s like having the secret best friend you always wanted.”

Maggie agreed. “Exactly. I mean, there we were, and you were so open about being bisexual and then me with my big mouth, asking you what it’s like to be with a woman, because I was dating a guy who wanted a threesome with a girl, and I had never done that, and the next thing you know…”

“Yeah, the next thing you know we’re completely naked in the stairwell of the town parking deck,” said Kate, laughing.

“How did that even happen?” said Maggie.

“It’s a good question,” said Kate. “Clearly, since we have homes with bedrooms and beds, we could have chosen a more comfortable location. It was just the heat of the moment. The roof of the parking deck is so gorgeous with the view of the church spires and we had chatted for like two hours after that play was over. The moon…”

“I blame the moon,” said Maggie.

“It’s always the moon’s fault,” said Kate. She put down her tea and slid closer to Maggie on the couch. Maggie took a sip of her tea, smiled mischievously at Kate, and put down her tea as well.

“This setting is a little more comfortable, with the same great view of downtown,” said Kate. She reached up and placed her hand on Maggie’s curly hair, taking a single curl and twisting it gently between her fingers. Her dark blue eyes stared intently into Maggie’s green ones.

“It is a great view,” said Maggie, grinning as her eyes swept down across the cleavage of Kate’s v-neck pink t-shirt. It was Sunday, Maggie had just closed her shop, and they were both in late summer garb of capri pants and t-shirts.

“So how are things with the Scarlet Letter Society?” asked Kate.

“Well, I love that we’re reading books now,” said Maggie. “Or at least pretending to.”

“As your friendly neighborhood literature professor,” said Kate, “I love that you’re reading books with the infidelity theme. What a great way to explore the issues you’re facing together as women.”

“I think it really helps to see how women have handled their, um, ‘flings’ across the years, in books, anyway,” said Maggie.

“Well, it is certainly true that they haven’t fared very well when they cheat on their husbands,” said Kate, smiling.

“I know. The poor things. It’s really the reason our club exists. I hate that there are women out there, holding onto all this shame and guilt, feeling like they’re alone in wearing the symbolic red “A” shirt 24-7,” said Maggie. “I actually wish I could somehow find new women to join the group, but that would be a pretty awkward Craigslist ad.”

“I always see it this way: for an affair to take place, three people are involved. There’s the spouse who is having the affair, because their needs are not being met at home, the spouse who is being cheated on, and the affair partner who was in the right place at the right time,” said Kate. “Our society blames the cheater, often hates the cheater. The person being cheated on is the victim in our culture, and often the hero in literature. But I don’t think the cheater is always the bad guy. They can be, but many times, let’s face it, the cheater wouldn’t have cheated if they’d been happy in the first place.”

“Well, I obviously don’t think the cheater is always the bad guy either,” said Maggie, “especially since I’m not only the president of that club but also a member.”

“American society is so puritanical when it comes to fidelity,” said Kate. “We act like we’re this bunch of Victorian churchgoers with only the highest moral values. But our media and advertising, Internet porn habits, sex clubs, you name it, everything points to the truth of what Americans can often basically be, which is pretty kinky.”

“That we are,” Maggie agreed. “That we most certainly are. It’s like we’re a bunch of nuns walking around nodding reverently to one another, but under our habits, we’re wearing slutty lingerie, garters, and nipple clamps, with Ben-Wa balls in our hoo-has.”

“You know, I think those nipple clamps would totally show through Sister Elizabeth Anne’s habit,” laughed Kate.

“Hey, before I forget to mention it, your lovely daughter has been most helpful in acquiring copies for us,” said Maggie, “and even likes reading the books herself.”

“Zarina was always a reader,” said Kate. “I mentioned our friendship to her. Are you worried she’ll figure out we’re having a fling?”

“A fling,” laughed Maggie. “What a great word. Yeah, I gotta admit to thinking about it when I’m at Zoomdweebies. Great shop name by the way, 80s girl. I’ve talked to Eva and Lisa outside the shop about being sure not to mention anything incriminating in front of Zarina while we’re at meetings.”

“You know, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if she found out,” said Kate. “She knows I have been with women, and she’s open about experimenting with her own sexuality. She likes that adorable Stanley, but she’s isn’t sure she wants to be in a committed relationship with a guy. She said she’s been thinking about girls lately.”

“Really?” said Maggie. “Huh! Well I guess that apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Kate let her right hand leave Maggie’s soft curls and trail gently down her neck. Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Kate’s fingers swept across Maggie’s clavicle.

“I love this spot,” she said, touching the small, soft pocket between Maggie’s clavicle and her neck.

“I know just the one,” said Maggie, and she reached out her right hand to touch the exact spot on Kate’s neck. Kate sighed softly. She leaned over and kissed the soft pool of flesh on Maggie, leaving the spot with a gentle lick. Maggie traced her hand across Kate’s shoulder and down her arm. She felt the goosebumps form on Kate’s arm.

Kate reached over and touched the two bottom edges of Maggie’s worn, vintage REO Speedwagon concert shirt and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Maggie smiled. Kate gently lifted the t-shirt over Maggie’s head.

They had time. There wouldn’t be the rush of a frenzied passion and fear of discovery in a public parking deck—as much fun as that had been. This time, they’d be able to really enjoy each other.

Kate looked down at Maggie’s black lace bra. “Beautiful,” she said.

“So are you,” Maggie said.

Kate ran her fingers slowly down from Maggie’s clavicles and across her breastbone. Her hands gently found their way across the peaks of Maggie’s breasts, bringing both to attention. Maggie sighed in pleasure and reached behind her back to unhook and remove her bra.

“You, too,” she said, motioning towards Kate’s t-shirt.

“In a minute,” said Kate, smiling, and she leaned down and brought her mouth to Maggie’s newly exposed breasts. Maggie put both of her hands in Kate’s long, dirty blonde hair, appreciating her soft hair.

Kate bit down gently, looking up at her for permission. Maggie moaned out loud and said, “That feels incredible.”

Kate attended to Maggie until Maggie couldn’t take it anymore. She reached over and grabbed at Kate’s t-shirt, which Kate whipped off and tossed off the couch, revealing her seamless red bra.

“I love the color scarlet.”

“I love the way you say “scah-let,” said Kate.

Maggie leaned over and kissed Kate full on the mouth. Kissing a woman, she thought, there’s another thing that is completely unlike being with a man. Their smooth, supple lips came together. Minutes went by where they did nothing but kiss, their hands exploring each other’s hair, wrapped behind each other’s necks. Maggie reached down and found Kate’s bra strap, unhooked and removed it, realizing this was the first time she’d done this on another woman. There hadn’t been time for this level of nudity back in the parking deck.

Kate wore a smaller cup, but her breasts were already fully engaged by the time Maggie’s thumbs found them. Maggie gently circled her hands around Kate’s nipples, then more firmly, sometimes stopping to squeeze them between her thumbs and her index fingers. Kate groaned.

“Let’s just get naked,” said Kate.

“Right on,” said Maggie, laughing.

They did. Pants and panties were on the floor in a matter of seconds. Kate tossed her head in the direction of the bedroom. Maggie followed. They flopped onto the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” said Kate, gently running her hand down Maggie’s back. Maggie shivered. Kate gently rolled Maggie over to her side, and they lay facing each other, on their sides, each appreciating the feminine silhouette of the other.

Maggie looked at her. She was amazed at how much less self-conscious she felt about her naked body in front of another woman versus a guy, she’d thought it would be the other way around. But somehow maybe women just naturally accepted each other more easily than they were even able to accept themselves.

“You are a very lovely woman as well, professor,” said Maggie. She’d been nervous about the whole “what do you do with a girl” thing the first time they’d been together, but this time she knew not to be nervous. She’d let her instincts take over.

Kate brushed her fingers down Maggie’s side, across her arm, down her waist and hips, and around to her rear, which she squeezed gently.

“Your curves are amazing,” she said.

Maggie placed her hand on Kate’s hip bone, tracing the valley there between her side and her tummy. Kate was thin and small in figure, but she had a shapely ass, which Maggie now ran her hand across.

“I’m completely jealous of your ass,” said Maggie, smiling at Kate.

“You know, it’s not a bad ass,” said Kate. “I don’t love all my features, but the ass has come in handy for filling out the jeans.”

Maggie slid toward her for a better feel. Kate slowly dragged the palm of her hand across Maggie’s chest, raising goosebumps on Maggie and eliciting a sigh of pleasure. They kissed again, gently at first, then more firmly, their tongues exploring each other’s soft mouths. Kate let her hand travel down Maggie’s middle and between her thighs. Ever gently, she circled her fingers around Maggie’s center. Maggie gasped in pleasure.

Kate shifted her position on the bed, straddling Maggie on all fours, so that their mouths could explore one another.

Maggie said simply, “Mmmmm…”

Zarina lounged across the brown leather couch in Zoomdweebies. It was a luxury she didn’t normally allow herself, but it was a slow day in the shop and no customers were in the store. Her head was on the huge orange suede pillow, her leg was draped over the top of the couch, and she figured if she heard the ding-a-ling of the bell above the door, she could sit up quickly and not look like a total slacker.

She lounged because she was enraptured by Judy Blume’s Wifey. Her mom had bought her all of Judy Blume’s books when she was younger. She devoured Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and Tiger Eyes and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret like they were candy. Blume’s conversational writing style always made her feel like someone was just sitting next to her telling a story, and she was a funny writer. Zarina had never made her way all the way up to the ranks of Forever (“THE SEX ONE!” middle school friends had proclaimed) and Wifey, but here she was. She vowed to go back and read Forever after finishing this one.

She wondered how the Scarlet Letter Society gals were going to like Wifey. It was written in 1978, five years after Fear of Flying, so you’d think it would be drenched with the same bra-burning feminist enthusiasm as Jong’s book. And yet once again, here they were with the slut shaming. The bored New Jersey housewife/mom Sandy (who slept in a separate bed from her husband!) had an affair, and then she got a sexually transmitted disease and went back to her amazingly boring spouse.

What the fuck, Judy!?

At least, what-the-fuck was how she thought Maggie and Eva and Lisa would respond to it. How couldn’t they? It’s no different than the nineteenth century shit where the “whores” die in shame. Jong gives us a strong woman who is going to demand that her sexual needs be met if she returns to her husband. Blume gives us…an STD? It was a bummer, because Sandy was a cool cat up until she didn’t choose herself…again.

She couldn’t wait to hear what the girls had to say, or whichever ones read it, and wondered if she was becoming sort of an unofficial club member. But just as she thought this, a text message came in to her phone:

Joy: Hey there Z! What up?

Zarina: Not much. How are things at your shop?

Joy: Boring. Wanna hang out later?

Zarina: I’d love it. Dinner, movie, drag queen karaoke? What’s it gonna be?

Joy: All of those things, hopefully at the same time. Lol

Zarina had been trying to convince herself the new relationship was just girlfriends getting together. But the more she’d spent time with Joy, the less she could deny her girl crush, and she wondered to herself if there was something more.

She heard the ding-a-ling of the door and jumped up, straightening the books on the coffee table. When she heard Stanley’s laugh at seeing her straighten up from the couch, she relaxed, putting away her phone (which struck her as odd because she hadn’t texted anything inappropriate) and turning around to smile at him.

He walked over to her, and despite his hipster skinny jeans and ironic black leather 80s bomber jacket, she thought he looked adorable. He hugged her, she hugged him back. She loved how he hugged her when they saw each other. It was so intense, so tight, like if he let her go he’d drown. And he always hugged for a good long time, too. Stan would hug Zarina for five minutes. He’d say “mmm” under his breath while he did it, too, like this hug was the best thing that ever happened to him.

When they finally stopped hugging, Stanley looked at her and said, “We need to talk.”

She thought to herself, no fucking way would he break up with me after that amazing hug.

“Or,” he said, seeing her concerned expression, “at least, I have something that I want to tell you.”

And then he looked straight into her eyes, practically into her soul, and he said, “I fucking love you.”

Zarina’s expression turned to mystery at first, thinking he was being sarcastic or overly dramatic for some reason that hadn’t yet been made apparent. And when she looked into his eyes, she saw he was serious.

“No,” Stanley said. “I love you. I mean it. I’m tired of thinking it and being afraid to say it because you might not say it back, or because the time is not right. I know that I’m emotionally challenged or something and that I never tell you how I feel. But life is too short not to tell your favorite person in the world that you love them. And so I want you to know that I really do love you.”

Despite her best efforts to stifle them, tears welled up in Zarina’s eyes, simply because she didn’t remember the last time someone had told her that in a romantic way. She couldn’t believe how happy it made her to hear the words.

So she looked at her sweet boyfriend, feeling happy he was hers. “You’re my favorite, too,” she said. “And I love you right back.”

And then they hugged again, even tighter than before.

Lisa, Maggie and Eva sat around the table at Zoomdweebies on the first Friday of September, exchanging their usual banter and laughter and stories.

Zarina found herself hoping that someday when she was their age, she’d have a group of friends that she felt so “herself” around as these women did with each other.

Caramel lattes all around; she brought apple pie crumb cake to them, and they loved it.

“Well we missed you last month, EVA!” began Maggie with her traditional flair.

“I really missed you girls, too,” said Eva. “I am so sorry I was unavoidably detained.”

“What does that mean? Charles had to upgrade to a heavier chain gauge to hold you to the bed?” said Maggie.

Eva smiled, raised an eyebrow, and pursed her lips at Maggie.

“Well it wasn’t exactly that kind of detainment, though I’d be up for it,” Eva said. “Charles and I just decided to take the day off and enjoy the city together.”

“Excuse me,” said Lisa. “You decided to what the what off?”

“I know, I know,” said Eva. “I’m not usually one to call in sick. But he made me this amazing dinner and put Pop Rocks in my vag for dessert, and then he asked me if I wanted to do like a New York touristy day, and we went to the Met and we did the whole carriage in Central Park thing, and then we went to see Chicago on Broadway. It was dreamy.”

“Pardon me for just one moment,” said Maggie. “I’m as big a fan of Chicago as anyone, but why are you talking about a Broadway musical when you just used the words “Pop Rocks” and “vag” in a sentence together? And did you also just use the word ‘dreamy?’ What’re you, Marcia-fuckin-Brady now? And horse carriage rides? Really? Tell me you weren’t riding through Central Park with Pop Rocks in your vajayjay.”

“It was surreal,” Eva said, laughing. “I took a shower obviously, those things are sticky. And the horse ride was the next day. It was weird that we spent this day together—he never takes days off either,” said Eva. “We just said screw it. Neither one of us is going to get fired, and God knows if either of us did, we’d probably breathe a sigh of relief. So we just decided to have fun.”

“Fun,” repeated Lisa.

“Yeah, what a concept, right?” said Eva. “It went by so fast. I think I hummed ‘All That Jazz’ half the way home on the train. I was sad it was over. Also, we had a little discussion about my wine drinking, but I convinced him I don’t have a problem, I just like wine. The whole trip was just what I needed after the stress at home with Joe.”

“Whoa, a smackdown with the French Chef? That’s as new as the day off. What is going on with you two, and in a related matter, what are you going to do about your marriage?” asked Maggie. “Have you thought about it?”

“Oh well yes, I’ve thought about it a ton,” said Eva. “And I still don’t know. It’s not like I can leave the boys. And how am I supposed to tell Joe to leave his own house, right? So I made the decision, for now, to move into the spare bedroom. I am going to ask Joe for a separation, and if we work that out, we’ll tell the boys.”

“Why wouldn’t you just ask him for a divorce?” asked Lisa.

“Well, ultimately that’s what is going to happen, but in Maryland you have to be separated for a year before you can get a divorce unless you bring proof of adultery. It’s like the 16th century. March the whore into the town square for the public stoning! So I’m just going to list my mom’s place as a second address for now and do the pre-separation thing, I guess.”

“And you haven’t talked to Joe about any of this, not even that you know about what’s-her-nurse?” said Maggie.

“I guess I’m going to need to do that this weekend,” said Eva. “But not with the boys around. Maybe we’ll go out for the most sad dinner ever. Ugh.”

“That doesn’t sound easy,” said Lisa.

“No, it’s going to be horrible,” said Eva. “But I have a feeling I’ll have a sense of freedom when I finally do it. And then as for Charles, it will be easier to see where that relationship could go while I’m not stuck under the dead weight of this one. But I have to say, some days I feel like swearing off relationships completely.”

“It’s just like Hawthorne says; ‘she didn’t know the weight until she felt the freedom,’” said Maggie.

“Anyway, speaking of books? I didn’t read the whole thing,” admitted Eva. “Started it though.”

“You might not even want to finish it,” said Lisa. “I thought it was depressing. Blume’s narration is as flawless as it always has been, but the story ends up being awful at the end.”

“The main character Sandy is so close to having it all together,” said Maggie. “She figures out what she wants, goes for it, then it all falls apart and she goes back to the husband that makes her miserable. Why would you do that?”

“Who knows?” said Lisa. “Why stay with someone who makes you unhappy?”

Eva looked at her.

“Who did you just ask that question?” she said to Lisa.

“Oh, well, we just learned you’re not going to stay with someone who makes you unhappy anymore,” said Lisa. “And as for me, it’s not like I am completely unhappy… I’m just sort of not really happy. I need to figure out a way to do something about that somehow.”

Maggie asked, “So if you’re not happy and you’re not unhappy, what are you?”

“Married?” said Lisa.

And they all laughed.