invented some sort of
facial filler) and how lovely her life had become since taking on the family’s
last name.
The other girls arrived one by one. There was Jess, a pregnant
newlywed who, according to Erica, envied everything about Stacey, including her
diamond, her successful husband, her constant world travels, and most recently,
her boobs. Then there was Caroline, also married, though for a little longer
than the other two, and also pregnant. Megan, who I knew well, showed up next;
she was Erica’s sister. Megan had a boyfriend like my ex—a drunk, and I’d
tried desperately to convince her there was no changing him, but apparently she
hadn’t learned that yet because her Facebook profile still linked to his.
Serena, my other newlywed, newly pregnant friend, was there too. I'd
been a bridesmaid in her wedding the year before. Unlike the others, Serena wasn’t
obsessed with babies before getting married, but she had shockingly morphed
from a down-to-earth girl who smoked pot every day into a total bridezilla, so
I supposed anything could change with the drop of a garter belt. Then there was
Amy, the only other single person. She’d just exited a long-term relationship
and, according to Erica, was really bent out of shape about it. Judging by the
permanent scowl on her face, I believed it.
We had a small private space in the rear of the spa, where fragrant
candles and the smell of massage oil permeated the interior. The rectangular
space was earthy, clean, and Zen-like. It contained six pedicure chairs, one
massage table, and a lounge area where hors d’oeuvres were displayed. I added
to the display a bottle of East Coast Prime’s private label champagne, along
with some sushi I’d drunkenly picked up from the North Market on my walk home
from Union the day before.
Due to time restrictions we were each allowed choose one spa
service. I opted for a pedicure and took a seat between Serena and Erica. As we
waited for our technicians to come over, we caught up on each other’s lives. I
told them how I still couldn’t stand work or my boss, but that I had no choice
but to stick it out because of the dreary economy. Interestingly, neither of
them seemed to relate to my sentiments, nor to really anything negative at all.
They had no complaints to speak of. Instead they talked about weddings and
babies and asked if I was seeing anyone new.
It felt almost ridiculous telling anyone about Jay, because the
relationship was scarcely more than a spot on the radar of my life. But
nonetheless I brought him up, since he was pretty much the only thing on my
mind that got me even remotely keyed up.
“You’re lighting up talking about him,” Serena said excitedly. “What
does he look like?”
“He’s gorgeous. Way out of
my league.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Erica said. “You look amazing, Elle. I’ve
never seen you look better.”
“You’re the one who’s out of her mind.” I hadn’t even worn eye
makeup that day. And my eyes were such a pale shade of blue that I looked
comatose when I didn’t apply mascara.
“Maybe he’s the one,” Serena said. “Long distance, instant
connection, gorgeous stranger . . . sounds like something straight out of a
movie. If the sex is good, he’s a shoo-in.”
“Don’t get carried away.” I said. “It’s really new, and we know so
little about each other.”
“Well, you better get to know him!” Erica said. “If you really like
a guy, you need to be all over it. Good guys who are also good-looking are few
and far between. Not everyone out there can find a fiancé like mine.” She
winked. She did have a great fiancé, the kind I wanted someday. Mark was funny,
sweet, owned his own business, and was easy to talk to, even for a shy person
like me. “I’m serious, Elle, you’re pushing thirty. You don’t want to be single
at thirty-five, do you?”
My mind went instantly to Penny, and I shuddered. “Well, no . . .,”
I was slightly offended and
facial filler) and how lovely her life had become since taking on the family’s
last name.
The other girls arrived one by one. There was Jess, a pregnant
newlywed who, according to Erica, envied everything about Stacey, including her
diamond, her successful husband, her constant world travels, and most recently,
her boobs. Then there was Caroline, also married, though for a little longer
than the other two, and also pregnant. Megan, who I knew well, showed up next;
she was Erica’s sister. Megan had a boyfriend like my ex—a drunk, and I’d
tried desperately to convince her there was no changing him, but apparently she
hadn’t learned that yet because her Facebook profile still linked to his.
Serena, my other newlywed, newly pregnant friend, was there too. I'd
been a bridesmaid in her wedding the year before. Unlike the others, Serena wasn’t
obsessed with babies before getting married, but she had shockingly morphed
from a down-to-earth girl who smoked pot every day into a total bridezilla, so
I supposed anything could change with the drop of a garter belt. Then there was
Amy, the only other single person. She’d just exited a long-term relationship
and, according to Erica, was really bent out of shape about it. Judging by the
permanent scowl on her face, I believed it.
We had a small private space in the rear of the spa, where fragrant
candles and the smell of massage oil permeated the interior. The rectangular
space was earthy, clean, and Zen-like. It contained six pedicure chairs, one
massage table, and a lounge area where hors d’oeuvres were displayed. I added
to the display a bottle of East Coast Prime’s private label champagne, along
with some sushi I’d drunkenly picked up from the North Market on my walk home
from Union the day before.
Due to time restrictions we were each allowed choose one spa
service. I opted for a pedicure and took a seat between Serena and Erica. As we
waited for our technicians to come over, we caught up on each other’s lives. I
told them how I still couldn’t stand work or my boss, but that I had no choice
but to stick it out because of the dreary economy. Interestingly, neither of
them seemed to relate to my sentiments, nor to really anything negative at all.
They had no complaints to speak of. Instead they talked about weddings and
babies and asked if I was seeing anyone new.
It felt almost ridiculous telling anyone about Jay, because the
relationship was scarcely more than a spot on the radar of my life. But
nonetheless I brought him up, since he was pretty much the only thing on my
mind that got me even remotely keyed up.
“You’re lighting up talking about him,” Serena said excitedly. “What
does he look like?”
“He’s gorgeous. Way out of
my league.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Erica said. “You look amazing, Elle. I’ve
never seen you look better.”
“You’re the one who’s out of her mind.” I hadn’t even worn eye
makeup that day. And my eyes were such a pale shade of blue that I looked
comatose when I didn’t apply mascara.
“Maybe he’s the one,” Serena said. “Long distance, instant
connection, gorgeous stranger . . . sounds like something straight out of a
movie. If the sex is good, he’s a shoo-in.”
“Don’t get carried away.” I said. “It’s really new, and we know so
little about each other.”
“Well, you better get to know him!” Erica said. “If you really like
a guy, you need to be all over it. Good guys who are also good-looking are few
and far between. Not everyone out there can find a fiancé like mine.” She
winked. She did have a great fiancé, the kind I wanted someday. Mark was funny,
sweet, owned his own business, and was easy to talk to, even for a shy person
like me. “I’m serious, Elle, you’re pushing thirty. You don’t want to be single
at thirty-five, do you?”
My mind went instantly to Penny, and I shuddered. “Well, no . . .,”
I was slightly offended and
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