Simon: Oh, shit. I think I lost a tiger…
…
Mom: Are you coming for dinner Thursday? We’re having lasagna. I can have Mrs. Carlisle make a low-carb version for you. She can use zucchini instead of noodles. No one will notice yours is different.
…
Mom: Darling, I need to know if you’re coming for dinner. Your father invited one of the new partners. His name’s Jeffrey. His divorce is almost final, and he wants children.
…
Simon: Should I call the cops? I asked my neighbor if he saw a hot woman leave my apartment early this morning. He’s still laughing hysterically.
I type back a quick response to Simon’s texts.
Elaine: No cops. :) Heading out for a girls’ weekend at the spa. See you Monday!
There. Done. Virtually painless.
Okay, acutely painful. But, at least it’s done.
I shoot off a text to Molly.
Elaine: Be ready in 30. I’m picking you up.
Molly: Ok. Why?
Elaine: Girls’ weekend getaway. I got us a room at the spa in Newburg. Who turns down a facial?
Molly: Not this girl.
Elaine: Excellent. Be there soon.
Molly: I’m not one to question anyone’s desire for a facial, but...what brought this on?
Elaine: I need to regroup. Hell, I may need to relocate.
Molly: Lemme guess. You punched Tall Steve in the throat? (with the aid of a step-ladder, obvs.) Bitch had it coming. A semi-colon is not a comma, douche-face. I mean, it can be, in certain circumstances, but not the way he’s using it!
Elaine: Right on with the semi-colon, but no. Punching Tall Steve can wait (though, admittedly, not for long).
Molly: So….what? You finally told your mother off? Ohmygod! Please. Please tell me you finally told your mother off!
Elaine: No.
Molly: So….. I got nothin’. Spill.
Elaine: Last night
Molly: Oh. My. God. We’re doing this in parts now?
Elaine: I….um…
Molly: Don’t bother texting. I’ve already died of suspense.
Elaine: slept with Simon.
Molly: You did the deed with Wonderboy? Ya-fuckin-hoo! About damn time! BTW, the gloriousness of this news has brought me back from the dead.
