(of course), Broadway from Forty-second Street right up to the Nineties. There was a blister on Christine’s heel, the right foot, which she covered with a Dr. Scholl’s plaster, and she was finally reduced to the walking shoes she saved for trips to Europe. She felt like a first-timer herself, seeing it with a newcomer’s eye, and to boot about fifteen years old. She was wiped out by the time Saturday came, but happily so.
However, she bowed out for the weekend. “You’re not coming with us?” Rodney demanded, when Bruce and Nancy champed at the bit to get a good early start doing the town with their guest.
“Dear, it’s their turn. After all, they have only the two days. They don’t want me barging in. They can do without the authoritative presence of Belinda the witch. Enjoy yourselves.”
“It won’t be the same,” he mourned, looking dashed.
“You should be happy to be with your peer group. They’re not that much younger, after all. Now go on, the three of you, and give it a whirl.”
“He leans on you,” Carl said when they left. “You don’t think he’s a fag, do you?”
“What in the world would make you think that?”
“They always form these attachments to older women. You know that, it’s common knowledge.”
“Thanks for referring to me as an older woman. That makes you an older man, you understand.”
“I only meant — ” he laughed, put his arms around her and told her of course he could see why that boy had a thing for her. “Anyone would, you’re a sexy broad.”
“At the moment I’m a bushed broad. Let’s eat out tonight. They won’t be home till late. I gave Bruce plenty of money for lunch and dinner.”
“Okay with me. Let’s decide where to go and I’ll make a reservation.”
“No, we’ll go to some place we won’t have to make a reservation. Just something quiet and relaxing, no fancy stuff. We don’t have to decide until later on. I’ll get these dishes done, you just take it easy.”
It was a long, pleasant day. After trudging about all week she was glad to take it easy too, just laze around, listening to music on the stereo, Schubert, Liszt, Mozart, Saint-Saëns (that gorgeous organ symphony). Changing from grabbles into the street clothes later and walking over to Tre Amici for veal piccata. The wanderers got home at a little after ten. “You took a cab, I trust,” Christine said quickly. “You weren’t walking around at this hour?”
“We took a cab,” Nancy said patiently. She looked quite set up, Rodney must have buttered her up plenty. They had a wonderful day, they enthused, gone to the Statue of Liberty and to Staten Island on the ferry. “I hope you ate well and sensibly?” Christine probed.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Did you have enough money?”
“Of course.”
The next day, Sunday, tended to drag, there was a kind of letdown. Empty rooms, a quiet house. “Mind if I put on some music?” Christine asked Carl in the early afternoon.
“Of course not, you don’t have to ask permission, you know.”
“We
could
take a walk.”
“Yeah. Maybe before dinner. How about eating out again tonight?”
“No, not particularly on a Sunday. I have a capon in the fridge, I’ll put it on around five. I have a feeling they’ll be home early tonight, there’s school tomorrow.”
She chose some records at random, put them on the turntable. They sat there in the living room, she in a caftan Carl especially liked. Sections of the Sunday
Times
were here, there and everywhere. Carl was reading the business section. It was possible he’d get a call from the hospital. Or some patient. Someone in trouble. Maybe not, though, at this time of year. The cold months brought flu and pneumonia and then he was out of the house a lot. She was a doctor’s wife, she expected that. But the phone was silent.
Once they had taken to bed when the children were out. That was long ago and far away, she thought, undismayed. There was love between them. Sex had a
However, she bowed out for the weekend. “You’re not coming with us?” Rodney demanded, when Bruce and Nancy champed at the bit to get a good early start doing the town with their guest.
“Dear, it’s their turn. After all, they have only the two days. They don’t want me barging in. They can do without the authoritative presence of Belinda the witch. Enjoy yourselves.”
“It won’t be the same,” he mourned, looking dashed.
“You should be happy to be with your peer group. They’re not that much younger, after all. Now go on, the three of you, and give it a whirl.”
“He leans on you,” Carl said when they left. “You don’t think he’s a fag, do you?”
“What in the world would make you think that?”
“They always form these attachments to older women. You know that, it’s common knowledge.”
“Thanks for referring to me as an older woman. That makes you an older man, you understand.”
“I only meant — ” he laughed, put his arms around her and told her of course he could see why that boy had a thing for her. “Anyone would, you’re a sexy broad.”
“At the moment I’m a bushed broad. Let’s eat out tonight. They won’t be home till late. I gave Bruce plenty of money for lunch and dinner.”
“Okay with me. Let’s decide where to go and I’ll make a reservation.”
“No, we’ll go to some place we won’t have to make a reservation. Just something quiet and relaxing, no fancy stuff. We don’t have to decide until later on. I’ll get these dishes done, you just take it easy.”
It was a long, pleasant day. After trudging about all week she was glad to take it easy too, just laze around, listening to music on the stereo, Schubert, Liszt, Mozart, Saint-Saëns (that gorgeous organ symphony). Changing from grabbles into the street clothes later and walking over to Tre Amici for veal piccata. The wanderers got home at a little after ten. “You took a cab, I trust,” Christine said quickly. “You weren’t walking around at this hour?”
“We took a cab,” Nancy said patiently. She looked quite set up, Rodney must have buttered her up plenty. They had a wonderful day, they enthused, gone to the Statue of Liberty and to Staten Island on the ferry. “I hope you ate well and sensibly?” Christine probed.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Did you have enough money?”
“Of course.”
The next day, Sunday, tended to drag, there was a kind of letdown. Empty rooms, a quiet house. “Mind if I put on some music?” Christine asked Carl in the early afternoon.
“Of course not, you don’t have to ask permission, you know.”
“We
could
take a walk.”
“Yeah. Maybe before dinner. How about eating out again tonight?”
“No, not particularly on a Sunday. I have a capon in the fridge, I’ll put it on around five. I have a feeling they’ll be home early tonight, there’s school tomorrow.”
She chose some records at random, put them on the turntable. They sat there in the living room, she in a caftan Carl especially liked. Sections of the Sunday
Times
were here, there and everywhere. Carl was reading the business section. It was possible he’d get a call from the hospital. Or some patient. Someone in trouble. Maybe not, though, at this time of year. The cold months brought flu and pneumonia and then he was out of the house a lot. She was a doctor’s wife, she expected that. But the phone was silent.
Once they had taken to bed when the children were out. That was long ago and far away, she thought, undismayed. There was love between them. Sex had a
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