Wifey by Judy Blume

Author:Judy Blume
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General, Fiction
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2011-11-10T05:00:00+00:00

SANDY PUT MONA ON the four o’clock bus back to Hillside, then went to Myra’s room at the St. Moritz to shower and change for her dinner with Vincent. When she’d made the date with him she hadn’t realized how well it would work out, had forgotten that she was to keep Myra company for a day or so while the girls were hospitalized.

She still wasn’t sure exactly what Vincent had in mind. A good visit, she hoped. Maybe he wanted to talk with her about Lisbeth, about their arrangement, or maybe he wanted to ask her to help out with Mrs. Rabinowitz when he and Lisbeth went to Maine in August, or maybe he wanted to . . . No! She wouldn’t think about that. They were meeting for dinner, that was all, like old friends. Nothing wrong with having dinner with an old friend, was there?

Come off it, Sandy!

Look, I’m not going to jump to conclusions.

She walked up to the restaurant. She was ten minutes early and decided to wait outside. She wore her green dress and carried her white blazer over her arm. She was always cold in air-conditioned restaurants. Thin blood, Norman told her. She watched the people walk by. Quite a selection. A dwarf, two shirtless men arm in arm, a group of little girls in Danskins, a stunning woman who looked like . . . my God, Sandy thought, taking off after her. Was it? Yes, she was almost sure. Jackie! The woman walked to the corner and turned left. Sandy followed. The woman had slightly bowed legs. The right hair. Sandy crossed the street and walked quickly to the corner. Jackie reached her corner and waited for the light to change. Sandy crossed at the same time, coming face to face with her. It was Jackie! She wore big sunglasses but there was no doubt. Sandy knew. Jackie knew she knew. They smiled at each other. Sandy wanted to hug her, to tell her how sorry she was about her troubles, but not to worry, that things would be better. In a second they had passed each other. Jackie walked down Central Park South, not hurrying, but with long confident strides.

Sandy rushed back to the restaurant. Vincent was waiting. They kissed hello. “You won’t believe this,” Sandy told him, breathlessly, “but I just saw Jackie Kennedy.”

“Of course I believe it,” Vincent said.

“Well, I almost didn’t!”

“You’ve always had a lot of interest in her, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, shall we go inside?”

“Fine.”

“Have you ever seen her in person?” Sandy asked.

“Several times.”

They were shown to a table in the corner. They each had two drinks, fettuccine, a green salad, a half bottle of Bolla Soave, and cappucino. They talked about their children, the pros and cons of fad dieting, the war in Vietnam, where it all would end, how his students weren’t as bright or eager as they used to be, and marriage and its future in America. Sandy found it exciting to engage in a real conversation, found she had ideas she hadn’t been aware of herself.

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