6. RE: I’m starting a
My cell rings.
“Are we talking yet?” asks Nedra.
“No.”
“I heard about your job. I’m so sorry, Alice.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’ve got the flu.”
“Who gets the flu in the summer?”
“Apparently me. So did you decide on the lemon or raspberry cake?”
“Oysters.”
“Oyster cake.”
“No, for appetizers.”
“I thought that was too obvious. Oysters being aphrodisiacs and all.”
“That’s a very nice apology,” says Nedra. “Accepted. Potluck two nights from now.”
“You’re still doing the potluck so close to your wedding?”
“Italian. We’ll make it easy. Just bring a jar of tomato sauce.”
“Nedra?”
“What?”
“Jude is an amazing kid.”
“And so is Zoe. Kisses. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I end the call and log on to my Facebook page.
Nedra Rao
2 hours ago
Nedra Rao
3 hours ago
Linda Barbedian
4 hours ago
Kelly Cho
5 hours ago
Phil Archer
6 hours ago
Helen Davies
7 hours ago
93
John Yossarian
Lucy Pevensie
I guess congratulations are in order?
I take it things are going well then?
With your wife?
Like work?
Because of me?
I’m very sorry to hear that.
Well, if it makes you feel any better it appears I crossed the line, too, at work. I definitely will have to look for another job.
It’s all right. It’s my fault. I made the mistake of mixing up my love for the kids with my love for the job. I was tired. I got sloppy. I should have quit a long time ago.
Now I make amends.
94
Still sick. Once again, the house is empty except for Jampo and me. William took the kids to the pool and Caroline and her parents went into San Francisco to look at apartments; she may have to get five roommates in order to afford living in the city, but she’ll move out by the end of the month. I’m going to miss her terribly, but I take comfort in the fact she’ll only be a BART ride away.
I can’t stop thinking about Helen’s Facebook posting. I go to her LinkedIn page to find out more about the job. After reading the detailed description for the VP of Food and Beverage (and having spent the last month being the lucky recipient of William’s gourmet meals and various sundry food obsessions), I know this would be the perfect job for William-a job that would perhaps even qualify as his pipe dream-however, there are three big obstacles. One: William is far too proud to apply for it himself; two: the job is in Boston; and three: me. I’m sure Helen still hates me. But maybe, after all these years, I’ve finally been given the opportunity to set things right.
An hour later, I hold my breath, utter a quick “Please, God,” and press Send.
From: Alice Buckle ‹[email protected]›
Subject: A voice from the past…
Date: August 13, 10:04 AM
To: Helen Davies ‹helendavies@D &DAdvertising.com›
Dear Helen,
I have owed you a real apology for years. Actually I owe you a few apologies, but first, the big one-I’m very sorry about William. I want you to know I did have standards. I believed in the sisterhood. Up until that point I had never been the “other woman” in a relationship and I never intended to become one. But something happened between William and me that was-well, it was unexpected. It just sort of carried us away. Neither one us was looking for it. I know that’s a cliche, but it’s the truth.
I’m sorry that I flirted with him behind your back. I’m sorry that I didn’t invite you to our wedding (I wanted to,
