say.”
Well, I hadn’t exactly intended to let things get as far as court appearances and eviction notices…
And before I can stop it, I picture myself boarded up inAdam’s apartment as the police lay siege outside. I’m lounging weakly on the sofa and I don’t even have the strength to operate the TV remote control. The food is long finished, there’s no electricity, no water, and I have been forced to eat toothpaste to survive…
“I think you should make a clean break of it,” Tom tells me quietly. “Don’t let him hurt you anymore than he already has.”
“Hey,” I say, and glance across the table at Katy, who is chatting animatedly to Rachel and Tish. “You guys are okay, aren’t you? I mean, this PPPTA thing. It’s just Katy’s way of trying to fit in. She really loves you, and you really love her, don’t you?”
“Of course I love her. But you know, I’m just so tired of coming home every day and finding the house overrun with Marion Lacy and the PADD or MASS mothers. Katy doesn’t have to do all this stuff to prove what a great mom she is—all you have to do is look at her with Alex. With all the trouble at work, sometimes I just want to come home and veg out in front of the television. It’s tiring, constantly trying to save the world. And it’s wearing her out. She needs to take it easier. She needs to stop beating herself up over this stuff.”
“Your job isn’t in any danger, is it?” I ask, because Tom works for a major financial institution on Wall Street and things are not exactly rosy at the moment.
“I don’t know, Emma,” he says, and I notice, again, how tired he looks. “More redundancies are due. I don’t think I’m in the firing line but we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Oh, God, Tom, I’m so sorry. Does Katy know?”
“No. Not yet. She has enough to worry about these days,” he says, morosely gazing into his brandy.
“You should tell her.”
“I don’t know. She’s so stressed out with the bitch woman Marion. I think she’s maybe suffering from postpartum depression, too. Do you think you could talk to her?”
He’s so lovely to worry so much about Katy. And she’s so lovely to try so hard to be the perfect mom.
“But…but wouldn’t it be better from you?” Much as I appreciate his faith in my mediating skills, I do think that he should be the one to talk to Katy.
“It would be better coming from another woman,” Tom says firmly. “Thanks for doing this, Emma.”
I’m flattered that he’s so certain I can help. Now that I’m a lonely spinster again, I should try to help others more…
“I zink it is good zat you make Adam suffer,” Sylvester hisses in my ear. And then he adds, darkly, “I zink zat David is having an affair.”
Oh, God.
“No. Not David,” I tell him. “You must be wrong.”
“But he is so secretive. I try to talk to him, but you know, if I’m wrong, always he will remember and zink zat I don’t trust him. Mon Dieu, then he get sick of me and leave me.”
Sylvester lowers his head to the table and I pat his shoulder. David, who is chatting to the yuppie couple in the corner (the guy is very attractive), is happily oblivious.
“But why do you think he’s seeing someone else?”
“He sneaks off in ze afternoon sometimes and never tells me where he goes.”
“Have you tried asking him? Subtly, of course.”
“No,” he wails. “If he wants me to know, he tell me, n’estce pas? Obviously he is hiding something. Emma, can you speak wiz him? You are a good person, you will do zis, oui? ”
“I…” I don’t know what to say.
Sylvester is obviously wrong, because I’m sure David would never do anything to hurt him. He can be such a drama queen.
“You are ma belle diplomate, ” he tells me, planting a kiss on both my cheeks. “I know I can rely on you.”
What can I say to that? Despite not wanting to get involved, I am flattered that my friends are able to come to me with their innermost
Well, I hadn’t exactly intended to let things get as far as court appearances and eviction notices…
And before I can stop it, I picture myself boarded up inAdam’s apartment as the police lay siege outside. I’m lounging weakly on the sofa and I don’t even have the strength to operate the TV remote control. The food is long finished, there’s no electricity, no water, and I have been forced to eat toothpaste to survive…
“I think you should make a clean break of it,” Tom tells me quietly. “Don’t let him hurt you anymore than he already has.”
“Hey,” I say, and glance across the table at Katy, who is chatting animatedly to Rachel and Tish. “You guys are okay, aren’t you? I mean, this PPPTA thing. It’s just Katy’s way of trying to fit in. She really loves you, and you really love her, don’t you?”
“Of course I love her. But you know, I’m just so tired of coming home every day and finding the house overrun with Marion Lacy and the PADD or MASS mothers. Katy doesn’t have to do all this stuff to prove what a great mom she is—all you have to do is look at her with Alex. With all the trouble at work, sometimes I just want to come home and veg out in front of the television. It’s tiring, constantly trying to save the world. And it’s wearing her out. She needs to take it easier. She needs to stop beating herself up over this stuff.”
“Your job isn’t in any danger, is it?” I ask, because Tom works for a major financial institution on Wall Street and things are not exactly rosy at the moment.
“I don’t know, Emma,” he says, and I notice, again, how tired he looks. “More redundancies are due. I don’t think I’m in the firing line but we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Oh, God, Tom, I’m so sorry. Does Katy know?”
“No. Not yet. She has enough to worry about these days,” he says, morosely gazing into his brandy.
“You should tell her.”
“I don’t know. She’s so stressed out with the bitch woman Marion. I think she’s maybe suffering from postpartum depression, too. Do you think you could talk to her?”
He’s so lovely to worry so much about Katy. And she’s so lovely to try so hard to be the perfect mom.
“But…but wouldn’t it be better from you?” Much as I appreciate his faith in my mediating skills, I do think that he should be the one to talk to Katy.
“It would be better coming from another woman,” Tom says firmly. “Thanks for doing this, Emma.”
I’m flattered that he’s so certain I can help. Now that I’m a lonely spinster again, I should try to help others more…
“I zink it is good zat you make Adam suffer,” Sylvester hisses in my ear. And then he adds, darkly, “I zink zat David is having an affair.”
Oh, God.
“No. Not David,” I tell him. “You must be wrong.”
“But he is so secretive. I try to talk to him, but you know, if I’m wrong, always he will remember and zink zat I don’t trust him. Mon Dieu, then he get sick of me and leave me.”
Sylvester lowers his head to the table and I pat his shoulder. David, who is chatting to the yuppie couple in the corner (the guy is very attractive), is happily oblivious.
“But why do you think he’s seeing someone else?”
“He sneaks off in ze afternoon sometimes and never tells me where he goes.”
“Have you tried asking him? Subtly, of course.”
“No,” he wails. “If he wants me to know, he tell me, n’estce pas? Obviously he is hiding something. Emma, can you speak wiz him? You are a good person, you will do zis, oui? ”
“I…” I don’t know what to say.
Sylvester is obviously wrong, because I’m sure David would never do anything to hurt him. He can be such a drama queen.
“You are ma belle diplomate, ” he tells me, planting a kiss on both my cheeks. “I know I can rely on you.”
What can I say to that? Despite not wanting to get involved, I am flattered that my friends are able to come to me with their innermost
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