Page 33 of Seven Summer Weekends

The same enthusiasm bubbled over when it came to her house. Their eyes darted from the knickknacks to the travel posters of the Montreux Jazz Festival and the New York World’s Fair to the vintage appliances in the kitchen.

“This whole place is like a life-size time capsule,” Lisa commented. “I love it!”

And they hadn’t even seen the studio yet. Addison was saving that for after dinner. She had a surprise for them.

Addison made the clam sauce while the others sat around the kitchen table listening to Kizzy’s lament. Yes, she was troubled by the state of her life and the end of her marriage, but she wasn’t all gloom and doom about it.

“The truth is,” she explained, “I’m a little relieved.”

Six eyes stared at her, anticipating an explanation. She obliged.

“I went to a funeral with my mom a few months ago, a distant cousin of hers. The husband was bereft, crying at the grave, the whole thing. They were married for over fifty years, butapparently, when they were younger, the wife had had an affair with their butcher.”

“It’s always the butcher,” Addison interrupted. Kizzy agreed, and in her best Jewish accent added, “Give a woman the right cut of brisket…”

“It’s the baker for me,” Lisa said, tapping on her “sweet tooth.”

Pru smirked. “You know I love a good candle.”

They all laughed, hard, like you do with your best friends, when laughter begets laughter.

“So, we get in the car to go home, and my mother says she couldn’t believe how destroyed the husband had been after she had cheated on him. And I’m thinking it must have been last week, but it was thirty years before.”

“People cheat all the time. What’s your point?” Pru asked.

“I feel like I have a second chance not to be that man, standing at his lifelong love’s grave with people pitying him—not because his wife died, but because she was unfaithful. Fifty years of sickness and health, children, grandchildren, weddings, funerals, vacations—none of that’s what is remembered. It really depressed me when I thought about the fact that my marriage would be remembered like that too, and that so much space would be given to Rome’s bad behavior.”

“I can’t believe your mother pointed that out. A little tone-deaf, no?”

“I never told my parents what happened with Rome the first time. I knew they would never forgive him, and you know how close we are to them both.”

“Have you told them now?”

“No, but I’ll have to. I came straight here. The only person Itold was the train conductor. Apparently, they only accept cash on the Long Island Rail Road. All I had was a credit card and a sob story.”

“There’s an app for that, you know.”

“Well, pity worked fine.”

They all paused to think of their friend Kizzy breaking the poor conductor.

“Enough about me!” She smiled while topping off everyone’s glasses. “This is meant to be a fun weekend. Let’s talk about Addison’s neighbor and how soon till they hook up.”

Addison shouted, “No way,” in protest.

Lisa countered, “Of course not, ’cause anyone who challenges you is automatically off-limits.”

“That is not true.”

“You are the only person I know who is searching formeh.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not searching formeh.”

“Really? Do you want us to scroll back on the group chat to present evidence?” Pru said, stepping into lawyer mode. “Mitch from HR, that bartender you dated from the Pony Bar, Mike Stemple. You always go for the wet noodles.”

“What about that other guy from the gym—Pete?” Addison asked defiantly.

“Why do you think we called him Pasta Pete? Wet noodle!”

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