Page 4 of Man Hands
“You are not wearing granny underwear and a sports bra!” shecallsback.
How does she know about the underwear? They’re comfortable. I used to reserve them for when I had my period, but that seemed silly. Why not wear them every day? The samekindof gigantic panties. Not the same pair,becauseew.
“What you wear against your skin affects how you present yourself on the outside,” Sadie offers. “Right now, I’m totally naked underneath.” I take a longer look at her. She is. Naked as can be under all her clothes, her breasts round and heavy. Must be thebabies.
“Don’t you…uhm…chafe?” I ask, glancing downabit.
“I put lotion on my labia majora.It’sfine.”
I nod, as if I know exactly where that is. I’m a writing professor, not a biologist. And the labia majora doesn’t crop up too often in my students’ essays. But maybe itshould.
Actually, Iwasa writing professor. Now I’m jobless. My ex’s father is the chair of the English department where I worked. I got a pink slip in the mail the day after I signed my divorcepapers.
“I’m unemployed,” I say, trying out the word. It sounds just as bad out loud as it did insidemyhead.
“I know, baby.” Sadie pats me on the hand. “But it’s Saturday and we’re going to get you drunk and then laid. Get with theprogram.”
From upstairs comes the sound of thumping, and drawers opening. Then the closet door opening. I could go up there and help her look, give some guidance, but I honestly have no energy. Standing is hard. Breathing takes an actofwill.
Going to this party? That’s an act of god that I just don’t seehappening.
I can hear the tear of cardboard as she rips open one of my moving boxes. Then a gasp. “You have the worst lingerie I’veeverseen!”
I’m relieved. For a minute there, I worried that I’d packed some poor woodland creature in my haste to get out of my marriage, and didn’tnotice.
“You can wear these tonight, but we are going shopping tomorrow!” She’s coming down the stairs, a look of pure determination on her face. “You need to treat yourself better,Brynn!”
She throws a black bra and pink panties at me. The panties were a gag gift from Ash herself, this past Easter. They sayChocolate Bunnies Are My Spirit Animal, and they’re printed all over with—wait for it—chocolate bunnies. They’re ridiculous, and yet still a step up from what I’m currentlywearing.
At the time I’d left him, Steve hadn’t shown any interest in me in over a year. Hence, the grannie panties. After a while, I’d given up. Why bother being sexy for a man who doesn’t even see you? Unless I was serving him a plate of food, I was invisible to him. Like, I could literally be in a room and he’d turn off the light because he didn’t know I was there. Lingerie was just an invitation forhumiliation.
These are my thoughts as Sadie unwraps my dress and slides it off me, because I’m not humiliatedenoughyet.
“You can change in front of us. It’s no big deal,” she says and I’m too tired to fight with her. “I’ve had a whole group of people staring at my vagina and it’s really not an issue. Especially when you’re inlabor.”
Sadie whips off the gigantic bloomers and the sports bra. She’s good at this. It must be all that diaperchanging.
I wiggle into the bra and chocolate-bunny underwear on my own power. And I have to admit, I feel about five pounds lighter. Sadie fastens the dress around me, mercifully covering both boobs this time, and adjusts. “You. Are. Gorgeous,” she says. I grunt. Then she grabs my face and forces me to look at her. “You. Are.Gorgeous.Okay?”
“Ohh-kaw,” I say, because she’s got a hold of my jaw. She loosens her grip. “Let’s just go. Let’s get thisoverwith.”
“That’s the spirit.” Ash gives me anevilgrin.
“What exactly is happening tonight?” I ask Ash as she heads for the door. They’d told me earlier, but I was too grumpy tolisten.
“We’re going to a party my competitor is throwing. He’s a total dicknozzle but he makes a ton of money and supposedly throws killerparties.”
“If you hate him, why are we going?” I ask. Maybe I can weasel out ofthisyet.
“To see his mansion and drink his alcohol!” Ashyelps. “Duh.”
“And admire his cute, rich friends,”Sadieadds.
“This house is on Reeds Lake,” Ash informs me. That’s a fancy-shmancy little lake in a decadent neighborhood. So my interest in this party goes from zero to, say, one and a half. “And there will be live music and free booze and lots and lots and lotsofmen.”
“Is your colleague gay?” I ask hopefully. I don’t want tonight to be all about finding me a hookup. Merely surviving the party is enough of a challenge for the newlydivorced.
“He was in a fraternity. Or something. Whatever. We’re going and while we’re there, we are going to help you find someone toflirtwith.”
