my body!”
“I didn’t say you didn’t care about it. But you don’t have to use it. Sexually.”
“Of course I do!”
“You don’t have to use it to attract .”
“Again. Of course I do.”
“Yeah, but not like I have to.”
Valerie considers this. “True,” she says.
“So get undressed.”
Valerie looks around the kitchen. “You mean … Here?”
Irene goes to the window and shuts the blinds. Then she goes back to the banquette to sit down. Drums her fingers on the table. Raises her eyebrows.
“ I’m not going first,” Valerie says.
“Well, I’m not, either.”
“It was your idea!”
“Yeah, but you’re married.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Valerie takes another drink, then stands and takes off her top and her skirt, her tights. “I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m leaving my underwear on. I am not taking my underwear off.”
Irene leans back and appraises her friend. “What kind of bra is that?”
“Chantelle.”
“Nice. Looks like it gives good support.”
“It ought to, with what it costs.”
“I’d pay a lot for a bra like that.”
“So go and get one.”
“I will. But take it off. And your underpants, too.”
“Irene. No.”
“But I can’t see really important stuff!”
Valerie puts her hands on her hips. “Like …?”
“Like if you’d trip over your boobs without your fancy bra or if you’re thinned out down there. You know? I mean, I look positively denuded !”
Valerie stands thinking, then clasps her arms and shivers. “It’s cold in here.”
“Only if you don’t have clothes on.”
“This is ridiculous.” Valerie pulls her tights back on, her skirt and top. “I have to leave soon.”
“That’s okay. I saw what I needed to.”
“What?” Valerie slides back into the banquette. “What did you see?”
Silence.
“Irene. What did you see ?”
“I saw , Valerie, that you have no petechiae. Which means I’m not sure we can be friends any longer.”
“What the hell is petechiae?”
“They’re these gross little red spots. Something about the integrity of your blood vessels being compromised when you age. They’re on my boobs and my stomach. Little red spots.”
“Let me see.”
“No. It’s gross.”
“I showed you my body!”
“Some of it.”
“So show me some of yours!”
“Fine!” Irene leaps up and removes all her clothing. “There!” she says. “There it is! All of it! See? I’m horrible. Tell me the truth, I’m horrible, aren’t I?”
“Oh, Irene.”
“What?”
“You’re not horrible .”
“Well, I’m certainly not attractive. Am I?” She spins around in a clumsy circle, then, a little dizzy, sits back down in the banquette across from her friend. “Ew. This leather feels weird against bare skin.”
“It’s leather?” Valerie says. “I thought it was vinyl.”
“Oh, right,” Irene says. “It’s fake leather. But it still feels weird.” She stands up and starts to get dressed, hoping Valerie will find something to praise, something that, up until now, Irene herself has not seen, or noticed, or understood was attractive. But what her friend says is, “Sweetheart. This is not the time of our bodies.” Her voice is sad.
Irene stands there, her white cotton, waist-high panties in her hand like a flag of surrender.
“I mean … Don’t you keep the lights off , anyway?” Valerie says.
And then, alarmed, they both turn to the sound of the front door opening. “Forgot something!” Sadie calls out and comes into the kitchen to find her mother holding a pile of clothes up against her naked body.
“Whoa.”
“Hi, Sadie,” Valerie says.
“Hey.”
“We’re just comparing bodies.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. I gotta get my phone, I forgot it. See you.”
Neither woman moves until Sadie goes out again. Then Irenedresses silently. When she sits at the table again, she says, “Well, there you go. Eight weeks of income for some therapist, easily.”
“I don’t think so,”
“I didn’t say you didn’t care about it. But you don’t have to use it. Sexually.”
“Of course I do!”
“You don’t have to use it to attract .”
“Again. Of course I do.”
“Yeah, but not like I have to.”
Valerie considers this. “True,” she says.
“So get undressed.”
Valerie looks around the kitchen. “You mean … Here?”
Irene goes to the window and shuts the blinds. Then she goes back to the banquette to sit down. Drums her fingers on the table. Raises her eyebrows.
“ I’m not going first,” Valerie says.
“Well, I’m not, either.”
“It was your idea!”
“Yeah, but you’re married.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Valerie takes another drink, then stands and takes off her top and her skirt, her tights. “I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m leaving my underwear on. I am not taking my underwear off.”
Irene leans back and appraises her friend. “What kind of bra is that?”
“Chantelle.”
“Nice. Looks like it gives good support.”
“It ought to, with what it costs.”
“I’d pay a lot for a bra like that.”
“So go and get one.”
“I will. But take it off. And your underpants, too.”
“Irene. No.”
“But I can’t see really important stuff!”
Valerie puts her hands on her hips. “Like …?”
“Like if you’d trip over your boobs without your fancy bra or if you’re thinned out down there. You know? I mean, I look positively denuded !”
Valerie stands thinking, then clasps her arms and shivers. “It’s cold in here.”
“Only if you don’t have clothes on.”
“This is ridiculous.” Valerie pulls her tights back on, her skirt and top. “I have to leave soon.”
“That’s okay. I saw what I needed to.”
“What?” Valerie slides back into the banquette. “What did you see?”
Silence.
“Irene. What did you see ?”
“I saw , Valerie, that you have no petechiae. Which means I’m not sure we can be friends any longer.”
“What the hell is petechiae?”
“They’re these gross little red spots. Something about the integrity of your blood vessels being compromised when you age. They’re on my boobs and my stomach. Little red spots.”
“Let me see.”
“No. It’s gross.”
“I showed you my body!”
“Some of it.”
“So show me some of yours!”
“Fine!” Irene leaps up and removes all her clothing. “There!” she says. “There it is! All of it! See? I’m horrible. Tell me the truth, I’m horrible, aren’t I?”
“Oh, Irene.”
“What?”
“You’re not horrible .”
“Well, I’m certainly not attractive. Am I?” She spins around in a clumsy circle, then, a little dizzy, sits back down in the banquette across from her friend. “Ew. This leather feels weird against bare skin.”
“It’s leather?” Valerie says. “I thought it was vinyl.”
“Oh, right,” Irene says. “It’s fake leather. But it still feels weird.” She stands up and starts to get dressed, hoping Valerie will find something to praise, something that, up until now, Irene herself has not seen, or noticed, or understood was attractive. But what her friend says is, “Sweetheart. This is not the time of our bodies.” Her voice is sad.
Irene stands there, her white cotton, waist-high panties in her hand like a flag of surrender.
“I mean … Don’t you keep the lights off , anyway?” Valerie says.
And then, alarmed, they both turn to the sound of the front door opening. “Forgot something!” Sadie calls out and comes into the kitchen to find her mother holding a pile of clothes up against her naked body.
“Whoa.”
“Hi, Sadie,” Valerie says.
“Hey.”
“We’re just comparing bodies.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. I gotta get my phone, I forgot it. See you.”
Neither woman moves until Sadie goes out again. Then Irenedresses silently. When she sits at the table again, she says, “Well, there you go. Eight weeks of income for some therapist, easily.”
“I don’t think so,”
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