involved with any man, ever again, I will never give up my Sunday evenings with friends.
“I think that’s disgusting.” Rachel pounds the table with her fist.
“Marion read a report about it,” Katy says. “You just don’t know what a problem this has become.”
“Marion Lacy, oh font of all knowledge,” Tom says, rolling his eyes. “At least Alex’s e-mail problem is fixed. I’ve changed the settings and they only allow him to receive mail from a designated list. He won’t be getting any more junk mail.”
“You’re my hero.” Katy smiles and touches his arm. “I told the other mothers that I’d show them how to do it too. But Marion says we shouldn’t have to—”
“You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if you could tell these bastards to remove you from their goddamned mail list,” Rachel interrupts her, warming up for a bit of a rant.
I think that Hugh person at work has really got to her. I also think that the older couple in the corner seem a little apprehensive. But Rachel is speaking rather loudly.
“I mean, these…these bastard e-mails always come with the option to remove your name from their disgusting e-mail list, but it doesn’t goddamned work.”
“I know.” David nods in agreement. “You hit ‘reply’ and send them an e-mail with ‘remove’ in the title, and then they’re supposed to remove you from the list.”
“Yes, but that’s the bastard thing about it,” Rachel says, taking a large gulp of her brandy. “You do it, just so they know that you don’t want any more of their goddamned filth. And then what happens, huh? What happens then?”
She glances around at us, but before anyone can offer a reply, she continues in full rant mode.
“I’ll tell you what happens. The goddamned e-mail gets returned to you as undeliverable, and they carry on sending their dirty, filthy e-mails without a care in the world. I mean, what are things coming to?”
“But who owns ze Internet? Where is ze World Wide Web?” Sylvester’s question is a good one. One to which no one seems to know the answer, and for a moment there is silence as we look around at each other.
“Well anyway,” Katy tells us, looking down nervously at her hands. “Marion’s arranged a march for next Thursday.”
“Independence Day?” I ask. “Isn’t there a parade?”
“Yes, of course. We’re marching after the parade.”
“Count me in,” Rachel says, unsurprisingly.
“But your parents are coming over,” says Tom. “Tell me you didn’t agree.”
“Well…” Katy picks up a spoon and fiddles with it, and I get a very uneasy feeling.
“You did, didn’t you? Katy, you have got to put your foot down with this woman. She does not own you. You do not have to do everything she suggests.” Tom runs a hand through his hair, and I notice how tired he looks.
Embarrassing silence falls on the room. I wonder if they’re having problems. I hope not. But it’s not really like Tom to get upset like this. Katy’s only trying to do the right thing.
“Emma, sweetie.” David breaks the deadlock as he pours more brandy. “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I say brightly as all attention is focused on me. A little too brightly. I take a gulp of my brandy to stop myself from melting into a little puddle of self-pity.
“It’s just like old times again, isn’t it?” Katy says. “You and Tish sharing again. It’s great to have you back, Emma.”
I wonder if now would be a good time to tell them…
“There’s been a change of plan,” Rachel announces to the table. “Emma’s not moving out of Adam’s place. And I think it’s a great idea. Make the bastard suffer, that’s what I say.” I jump as she pounds on the table again. “He deserves inconvenience after what he’s done to Emma.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tom asks.
“Of course she is sure,” Sylvester says. “Zat Adam, pah. You must stay zere until ze cops come wiz ze eviction notice, is what I
“I think that’s disgusting.” Rachel pounds the table with her fist.
“Marion read a report about it,” Katy says. “You just don’t know what a problem this has become.”
“Marion Lacy, oh font of all knowledge,” Tom says, rolling his eyes. “At least Alex’s e-mail problem is fixed. I’ve changed the settings and they only allow him to receive mail from a designated list. He won’t be getting any more junk mail.”
“You’re my hero.” Katy smiles and touches his arm. “I told the other mothers that I’d show them how to do it too. But Marion says we shouldn’t have to—”
“You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if you could tell these bastards to remove you from their goddamned mail list,” Rachel interrupts her, warming up for a bit of a rant.
I think that Hugh person at work has really got to her. I also think that the older couple in the corner seem a little apprehensive. But Rachel is speaking rather loudly.
“I mean, these…these bastard e-mails always come with the option to remove your name from their disgusting e-mail list, but it doesn’t goddamned work.”
“I know.” David nods in agreement. “You hit ‘reply’ and send them an e-mail with ‘remove’ in the title, and then they’re supposed to remove you from the list.”
“Yes, but that’s the bastard thing about it,” Rachel says, taking a large gulp of her brandy. “You do it, just so they know that you don’t want any more of their goddamned filth. And then what happens, huh? What happens then?”
She glances around at us, but before anyone can offer a reply, she continues in full rant mode.
“I’ll tell you what happens. The goddamned e-mail gets returned to you as undeliverable, and they carry on sending their dirty, filthy e-mails without a care in the world. I mean, what are things coming to?”
“But who owns ze Internet? Where is ze World Wide Web?” Sylvester’s question is a good one. One to which no one seems to know the answer, and for a moment there is silence as we look around at each other.
“Well anyway,” Katy tells us, looking down nervously at her hands. “Marion’s arranged a march for next Thursday.”
“Independence Day?” I ask. “Isn’t there a parade?”
“Yes, of course. We’re marching after the parade.”
“Count me in,” Rachel says, unsurprisingly.
“But your parents are coming over,” says Tom. “Tell me you didn’t agree.”
“Well…” Katy picks up a spoon and fiddles with it, and I get a very uneasy feeling.
“You did, didn’t you? Katy, you have got to put your foot down with this woman. She does not own you. You do not have to do everything she suggests.” Tom runs a hand through his hair, and I notice how tired he looks.
Embarrassing silence falls on the room. I wonder if they’re having problems. I hope not. But it’s not really like Tom to get upset like this. Katy’s only trying to do the right thing.
“Emma, sweetie.” David breaks the deadlock as he pours more brandy. “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I say brightly as all attention is focused on me. A little too brightly. I take a gulp of my brandy to stop myself from melting into a little puddle of self-pity.
“It’s just like old times again, isn’t it?” Katy says. “You and Tish sharing again. It’s great to have you back, Emma.”
I wonder if now would be a good time to tell them…
“There’s been a change of plan,” Rachel announces to the table. “Emma’s not moving out of Adam’s place. And I think it’s a great idea. Make the bastard suffer, that’s what I say.” I jump as she pounds on the table again. “He deserves inconvenience after what he’s done to Emma.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tom asks.
“Of course she is sure,” Sylvester says. “Zat Adam, pah. You must stay zere until ze cops come wiz ze eviction notice, is what I
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