Wifey by Judy Blume Page A

should have left them home. They were nothing but trouble.
    “He burned it! It’s killing me.”
    “Burned it . . . who . . . what?”
    “Bucky! With his fucking magnifying glass.”
    “What? He did what?” Sandy looked over at him. He was sitting under a palm tree, holding his magnifying glass, a sheepish look on his face.
    “I didn’t know it would happen so fast,” Bucky said. “It takes a long time for leaves to burn.”
    “I’m not a leaf, you fucking imbecile!”
    “Okay, okay,” Sandy said, “let’s calm down now. Bucky, apologize to Kate and give me your magnifying glass.”
    “Do I have to?”
    “Yes, and now.”
    He handed her his magnifying glass. “Can I have it back tomorrow?”
    “No.”
    “Day after?”
    “I doubt it.”
    “When?”
    “We’ll see.”
    “You always say that!”
    “Apologize to Kate, please.”
    “Oh, Mom.”
    “We’re waiting, Bucky.”
    “Okay, I’m sorry.”
    “I don’t think he really means it, Aunt Sandy.”
    “I do so,” Bucky said.
    “I’m sure he does,” Sandy told Kate.
    “What happened?” Jen asked, racing back, her Baggie filled with shells.
    “Bucky burned Kate with his magnifying glass,” Connie said. “Look at that red mark on her belly.”
    Jen examined Kate’s belly and held back a laugh.
    “It hurt like hell,” Kate told her. “I thought a snake bit me, or something.”
    “They don’t have snakes on the beach,” Bucky said.
    “The hell they don’t.”
    “Do they, Mom?”
    “I really don’t know.” Sandy rummaged through her beach bag. “Look, why don’t the four of you go over to the hotel and have a drink. Here’s five dollars. You can bring me the change.”
    “Five won’t buy us all drinks,” Kate said, “not down here.”
    “Oh, I suppose you’re right,” Sandy said, fishing out another five. “Take ten then and bring back the change.”
    “They’re having crab races this afternoon,” Jen said. “I love crab races. Please, please, can we go?”
    “Oh, all right . . . I suppose it can’t hurt.”
    “Thank you, thank you.” Jen jumped up and down and planted a kiss on Sandy’s cheek. “You’re the best mother that ever was.”
    Sandy laughed. “Go on, have a good time.”
    She watched as they ran down the beach, Bucky and Jen out front, Kate and Connie behind them. Then she made a pillow out of two beach towels, settled back on her blanket, and closed her eyes, her face lifted to the sun. Ah, the hot sunshine. It felt so good. She began to drift off . . . the sun hot on her face, her belly, her legs. Hot between her legs. Yes, good and hot . . . so nice . . . so long since she’d had that feeling . . . since before she’d been sick. Norman hadn’t . . . that is, they hadn’t fucked since before. He wanted to, she knew, but she told him she was still too weak. Nice to know it was still working, that the cortisone hadn’t affected her that way. She opened her legs a bit more, letting the hot sun warm her there, warming her all over . . . on her nipples . . . erect now . . . she ran her hand across her belly . . . fuck me . . . fuck me, sunshine . . . so delicious, as it crept up her legs, to her thighs, to her cunt . . . kiss me there . . . lick me . . . oh, please . . . oh, hurry . . . She pictured the beachboy, the one at the hotel who set up lounge chairs and handed out towels. A beautiful boy, with white blond hair and deeply tanned skin. A beautiful body too. She could see every muscle in his back. Strong arms. And a line of pale fur extending from his navel to the top of his bathing trunks . . . and beyond? Yes, probably beyond. She could see the outline of his cock, of his balls, through his tight little Speedo suit. Every time she passed him, as she walked along the beach with the children, every time she looked, although she promised herself she wouldn’t anymore . . . she saw his bulge. How nice it would be to feel him