The Slipper by Jennifer Wilde

I’d love for you to come, if you have no other plans.”
    â€œI—I’m not sure, Pattie.”
    â€œDo drop by if you can—sevenish. We’ll probably sing ‘White Christmas’ and grow all maudlin and make asses of ourselves, but what’re the holidays for? Oh, and thank you for the present, dear.”
    â€œAnother fruitcake,” Carol said wryly.
    â€œThat makes twelve I’ve received now. You can see why I want to have the party. Delivering more presents?”
    Carol nodded. “I’m taking these to my friend Julie. She lives off campus with her husband.”
    â€œMind the walks, dear. They’re slippery with ice. Hope to see you later on this evening. Move it, Mustard. I need that report.”
    Carol left the dormitory and started across the deserted campus, turning up the gray fur collar of her soft blue wool coat with its belted waist. The grounds were covered with a light frosting of snow and the sidewalks were indeed slippery, but she was wearing her pliant blue vinyl knee boots with rubber soles. It was thoughtful of Pattie to give a party for the girls remaining at the dorm, but Carol doubted she would go. She didn’t really know any of the other girls, and somehow being with relative strangers would only make her loneliness worse. She missed Nora dreadfully.
    Nora had reluctantly departed for Brooklyn a week ago. “I’d much rather be trotted out and shot,” she had confided, “but if I don’t go home for the holidays Sadie’ll show up here driving a tank with half the National Guard in tow.” She had blithely whipped off several new confession stories to finance the trip and pay for Christmas presents—“Bradley would shit if he knew I was writing this crap, but what’s a girl to do?” She and Carol had agreed not to get presents for each other, but they had gone in together to buy presents for Julie. Unbeknownst to Nora, Carol had purchased a beautiful leather portfolio and had it shipped to Brooklyn. Nora had admired it in the window of a department store and said it would be just the thing for her manuscripts.
    Carol considered herself wonderfully lucky to have a friend like Nora, so bright and vivacious, so witty and irreverent, so very kind and tenderhearted beneath her tough, breezy facade. It was Nora who had suggested they buy presents for Julie.
    â€œThe kid needs a new coat—have you seen that mothy brown thing she’s always wearing? Hell, let’s play Santa Claus. That husband of hers isn’t going to give her much, I can assure you. A scarf, if she’s lucky. You can deliver the presents to her on Christmas Eve.”
    During the past few weeks Julie had had coffee with them at the SUB after drama class a number of times, always a bit nervous amidst the noisy mob, never staying long, always careful to pay her share. She had started to participate in class a bit more, too, and Carol was amazed at the girl’s natural talent. She confessed to Nora that Julie was already much, much better than she would ever be and Nora said that was a moot point, all three of them were going to be tremendously successful. Over coffee at the SUB one afternoon Nora made Julie a member of their ultraexclusive Cinderella club and told her she was going to get the slipper too and become a great actress and knock ’em on their asses when she hit Broadway. Julie had smiled shyly at this nonsense, but Carol could tell that she was secretly thrilled to be included in Nora’s grandiose vision of the future.
    â€œWe’re a trio!” Nora exclaimed. “Right?”
    â€œRight,” Carol said.
    â€œWe’re a triple threat. We’re all gonna get the slipper.”
    â€œRight,” Julie said.
    â€œLet’s drink to it. We oughta have champagne but this coffee’ll have to do. Jesus! What-da they make it out of? Mud? You pay five cents for a cup of coffee and they bring