Page 49 of The Husband Diet
‘Ah-ha!’ Paul exclaimed in triumph. ‘You see, youareinterested in him! Your green cashmere dress. It brings out your eyes. And makes your boobs look nice but not too revealing. You don’t want them to scream,here we are!
I rolled my eyes again, my nerves ready to snap. ‘Gotta go. Talk later.’
The green dress. Was it still in the wash? I clicked back to Julian and his suave, deep voice filled me with a strange warmth. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t going to continue with this crush on my kids’ principal. I was a grown woman. A lonely, separated grown woman. And Julian was too involved in my children’s life. So I’d have to forget about him and start seeing someone I’d feel less guilty about. Like a mass murderer.
‘OK for the coffee.’
Now all I had to do was figure a way of not jumping his bones the minute he showed up at my door. As much as I wanted to do coffee (among other things) with him, I didn’t know how I was going to get through it without confessing to him that instead of sleeping at night, I stare up at the ceiling, wishing I were in another life – one where he’d fall in love with me, have mind-blowing sex with me every night, marry me and finally drag me off to Tuscany. That alone was enough to make any guy never call you again.
‘Brilliant. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,’ he said, and I closed my eyes. ‘Erica?’
‘Huh?’
‘You still there?’
‘Yeah,’ I answered, nodding vigorously to myself.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.’
Sleep well. All he had to do was add asweetheartto that and I’d kill for him.
17
Catharsis
At about the time I should have been out with Julian that day, I had another major fight with Ira. On the phone. Because things weren’t going well at his office and there was no one else to take it out on but me, apparently.
His 25-year old secretary, Pristine Maxine (so dubbed by me because she always wore white and had her hair coiffed like Lady D. Someone should have told her the Eighties were over), wanted a raise, but he couldn’t afford to give her one, so she’d threatened to leave. I couldn’t blame her. Ira could wear out anybody’s patience. And now he was taking it out on me, saying if I’d been a good wife all these years, I’d have offered to do her work on the weekends.
I actually had, in exchange for Saturdays with the four of us as a family, and memories of me scrubbing his urinals came back to me on a regular basis while he watched baseball games and pigged out on the office sofa. And his promise to be a Saturday father had quickly died a death, as he simply couldn’t be bothered, so he’d hide out at work.
I squared my shoulders and whispered into the phone, ‘Those days of me bailing you out all the time are over, Ira,’ and hung up.
I was at the end of my tether. And while I was at it, I wasn’t doing his laundry anymore, or his dishes. Among other things. I was officially off wife duty.
I rang my zia Maria and ordered a roast chicken and potatoes to go. ‘Can you throw some veggies in there, as well?’ I asked. ‘And a nice big tiramisu?’
‘You inviting The Hunk over?’ she asked.
‘No, of course I’m not – why do you ask?’
‘Paul told us you had an invitation for coffee. So it’s serious?’
Arrgh, there he went again. I’d have to talk to him about discretion. ‘No, there’s nothing going on between me and The Hu… my children’s principal.’
‘Of course there isn’t,’ she laughed and said, ‘Martina, pick up the phone, will you? Erica’s got a date with The Hunk!’
I rolled my eyes as Zia Martina squealed ‘No way?’ somewhere in the background.
‘Listen, you two. I’m not going out with Julian Foxham! And that’s that!’
‘Can I have him, then?’ Zia Monica chimed, presumably from a third phone, and Zia Martina snorted.
‘Don’t take her seriously. She’s got the hots for Father Frank.’
‘I do not!’ she assured.
‘Ooh, father Frank’s nice – go for it,’ I joked. Had we all suddenly lost our morals? Had we all become like Marcy and Judy?
