Page 72 of Come Back to Bed
“Shhhh!” I look around to make sure Sebastian isn’t anywhere near us. He’s not. But I still don’t want anyone here to hear this conversation. “No. It’s not that. We’re just friends. I guess. We have nothing in common, but we have great sex and we hang out at home and I mean, I helped him out when he sprained his ankle and then he looked after me when I had the flu last week. But it’s just a no-strings thing like I always do, you know.”
She lowers her chin and flutters her eyelashes at me. “Bernadette. By what ridiculous standard is thatnotconsidered a relationship? I’ve had husbands that I was less intimate with than that.” She swats away this silly idea of mine with her hand.
“No, really. That’s how it is.” I finish most of my wine in one big gulp.
She shakes her head and looks back at Matt and the guy he’s talking to. “You kids today and your super chill non-relationships.”
“Yup, that’s me. Super chill.”
“You sure you’re not serious about him?” She studies my face, the way an adult looks at a child that they suspect is lying to them.
“I’m sure.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, trust me. It’s totally casual.”
“Mind if I have a go, then?”
“Um. What?” Why did I not see that this is where she was heading. “No! I mean, no I don’t mind. Of course, yeah. You should definitely…have a go. He’s single and great and nice and completely unattached. Except for a recent ex-girlfriend that he lived with for a few years. He probably isn’t in touch with her, though.”
“Uh huh. What is he—a lawyer? Corporate?”
“Yeah. You can tell that by looking at him?”
“Honey, I can tella lotby looking at him.” She licks her lip. “Early thirties?”
“Yeah. Thirty-two, I think?” Okay, now I feel like his pimp.
“Good,” she says. “The twentysomethings always want a mommy who’ll fuck them, but once they’re in their thirties they know how to handle me.”
Eww.
“Great!”
“Okay, I’m going in. Last chance to stop me.” She fluffs up her hair.
I try to say the words ‘I’m not stopping you’ but my upper lip just sticks to my teeth as I fake a huge smile. I salute her and turn away, to look for someone else to talk to, like Tommy or a shrink perhaps. I settle on the manager of this restaurant, who smiles and waves at me.
“Hi!” I say, going over to where she’s hanging out at the hostess stand, giving her a grateful hug. “Everything seems to be going great tonight!”
“Yup,” she says, pushing her ironed-straight hair behind one ear. “It’s a fun crowd. I was expecting a bunch of uptight gallery people, but everyone’s cool.” She leans in. “Who’s the guy you came with?”
Oh my God. Is there really nothing else to talk about tonight? Are we not educated New Yorkers? Are there no Broadway shows or political scandals we can dish about?
I sigh. “That’s my neighbor, Matt.”
“Are you dating him?”
I look back and see Anita give him her card. I see Matt thank her politely and put her card in his blazer pocket. I see him nod at her politely as she touches his arm and then his friend’s, and then walks away.
“Nope. Not dating him. Just friends.”
“Is he gay?”
“He certainly doesn’t fuck me like a gay guy, but how can you be sure?”Who said that?
She laughs. “I need more friends like that.”
