Page 41 of The Husband Diet
‘So, still no sex?’ she asked and exhaled after my long, long pause, and I closed my eyes, regretting that one evening of closeness that my sister and I had shared and during which, while she’d poured the Corvo Rosso, I’d poured my heart out to her.
Paul and I always talked about the sex I was missing out on, but strangely, I’d never shared my problems with her.
‘Judy…’
‘See? Prude.’
Indeed I was. But I still wasn’t ready to tell the world my problems. Nor could I understand her. If she didn’t love her husband anymore, why didn’t she just leave him instead of screwing someone else? Why hadn’t Ira had the same courtesy for me instead of screwing around behind my back? I wondered who it was, what she looked like, if she was as thin as a rake and younger than me. Who was I kidding? Of course she must have been all the above.
‘This guy is sooo ripped, Erica!’ Judy assures me. ‘Like nothing you’ve ever seen.’
It was true, I’d neverseen. My own husband had never been ripped and wasn’t suddenly going to start developing a six-pack, just like I wasn’t going to become Angelina Jolie overnight. Or ever. Not even after ten stomach bypasses.
‘I mean, even the size of his—’
‘Got it!’ I said before Judy could continue.
She laughed. ‘I was going to say “his hands”, but while you’re on the subject, yes – he’s very well endowed.’
Good for them.
‘And he takes me places and we do it wherever and whenever we want. This morning we did it—’
‘In his car – I know.’
‘Silly,’ she said warmly, and I realized she’d never spoken to me warmly.
Had sex with a guy finally mellowed her?
‘He’s… wonderful. He makes me feel like a queen, you know?’
No, I didn’t know. I had absolutely no idea what it felt like to be treated like a queen. I’d never been treated with consideration by Ira. I was lucky if he simply put the toilet seat back down. That alone would make my day. But other women around me, starting with my sister, were getting it all. The security from a loving (although unwittingly betrayed) husband, the luxury of waking up in an amazing house and not having to go to work, a housekeeper to take care of them and the kids, a cook to prepare meals.
Yes, Judy had it all – and now she even had the extras on top of the extras. But she hadn’t called just to boast. She wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to sell her off to the highest bidder.
‘Your secret’s safe with me – don’t worry,’ I assured her.
‘Good. Gotta go now. I’m seeing him again in half an hour. Bye!’
And she hung up before I could answer. On one hand, I hoped it wasn’t going to end in tears for her as well. On the other, I envied her ability to have fun.
*
During my lunch break the next day, I wolfed down a sandwich over my keyboard (whoops, a bit of crust stuck between the N and the M) and looked up some more Tuscan properties in my budget, as I’d been doing for the past few months.
I wanted a farmhouse, so I typed incasolareand Val d’Orcia, because that was my favorite area in Tuscany. If you Google Image the Val d’Orcia, you’ll see loads of amazing pictures of green valleys and yellow hills and majestic 20-meter-high cypress trees coasting winding roads. The ultimate dream.
I needed a house that was at least 300 hundred square meters, 150 for us and the rest for paying guests. I had two options. Either I bought a cheap ruin and restored it, putting in a pool and everything else, or I could buy a renovated one with all the mod cons at double my budget. So I did an advanced search.
One caught my eye. Quite old, with a sturdy-looking wide staircase going up one side (separate entrances, that’s great) and an annex (to be restored as well), just the right price. I scrolled down to the floor area – 75 square meters – just about enough for the kids’ toys and nothing else.
My eye swung to another property.Beautiful stone farmhouse with swimming pool and completely restored.Yes!Floor area 350 square meters.Yes, yes!
Price – triple my budget.Crap.
And then another one, to be restored, and enormous. Which would cost me its price again in renovation. Even with the sale of the house, I’d be short. I’d have to apply for a mortgage, which I’d pay with the rental income, sure, although it would take me forever. But how the hell was I going to get all the restoration work done? By using the kids’ college funds? I sighed. There had to be a way.
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