Sylvia's Second Act by Hillary Yablon

Author:Hillary Yablon [Yablon, Hillary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2024-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

I have a crisis with Ashton, and yet here I am standing in the “Intimate Care” aisle at a Duane Reade three blocks away from Verena’s office so that I can peruse bikini wax products.

You don’t have time for this, Sylvia, the voice in my head warns.

I rub my forehead. The voice is right. I don’t have time for this. But as soon as Frank left, I called Verena. I briefly explained that we had a “Nina situation” and she said to come directly to her office.

And so that was the plan. I flew out of Bergdorf’s and half walked, half trotted my way uptown. But I couldn’t stop tasting Frank. I felt like the heroine of a Danielle Steel novel. I’d never been so aware of my body.

As I hustled up the city blocks, I couldn’t help but wonder: Would Frank kiss me again? Of course he would. But for how long? All night? Like teenagers? Would I slip my hand in his pants? Would he slip his in mine?

As soon as the notion of Frank’s fingers inside my underpants entered my head, fear pierced my spine like an ice pick. Sure, I have great panties. Gorgeous lace and satin numbers. But that didn’t matter. I was frozen on the corner of a sidewalk seeing nothing but flashes of Belinda’s perfectly groomed bikini area. And then I remembered Bunny’s crotch was likewise smooth as a supermodel’s. Did Nina wax, too? Probably.

As cabs whizzed by, I looked down at my feet. I felt shamed by my own shaming. I shouldn’t wax for some man. And yet a little part of me wanted to. I remembered that episode of Sex and the City when Carrie visited a sadist to get the full Brazilian. I laughed and laughed but remembered thinking it might be fun to at least try it. Of course, I never made an appointment. Sex with Louis stopped inspiring me so long ago.

And then, like a sign from the gods, the actual sign for Duane Reade popped into view. I crossed the street, detoured inside, and am currently scanning hair removal kits with names like Kopari Coconut Melt Mini and Flamingo Body Wax. I choose a name that seems familiar: Sally Hansen’s Insta Wax Strips for Face & Bikini.

Just feeling the smooth, orange box in my hands makes my groin pulse. I squint beneath the store’s fluorescent lights and see myself on the cover of my own erotica paperback. I’m wearing a man’s button-down shirt that has been torn open. My hair has fresh highlights. The title reads, Sylvia Burning.

My phone beeps.

I reach into my purse and see the text is from Verena, wondering where I am. Shit. I rush to the register, pay for the wax, and shove it into my purse. I hurry out of the store and race down the block to Verena’s. Just knowing that it’s in there makes me feel like I can fly.

As I push open the heavy doors to the building, I force all thoughts of Frank and vaginas out of my head.

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