Just So You Know

Mygod! you look wonderful. I've really missed you. Really, I have. Sure, there are the others, and we see one another all the time, but I missed you. Never realized you'd be gone for so long. I know, you hadn't meant to be gone for such a prolonged period. The emails you sent to keep in touch weren't exactly full of information. We kind of guessed that things weren't working out just the way you hoped they might. But you sounded fairly upbeat in those brief messages.

I'm sorry your attempt at reconciliation just didn't work out. Not your fault, that's for certain. He's an idiot. Sorry, I know you don't like to hear that kind of thing, but it's true. None of us can begin to imagine how someone as bright as him can't see what he's got in you. All right, what he had, in his relationship with you. Some people are just never satisfied, never appreciate what they've got when they have it.

But you don't look devastated at all. From my vantage point, you look fantastic. Don't mean to pry, but anything else happen while you were away? No, I don't mean that. No allusion to having met anyone, although I'm sure the opportunity was there, being where you were. Sounds so glamorous. We've known one another a long time, so don't take offense. I'm just curious.

Thought so! Well, it was a good decision on your part. You'd never know, if you didn't know you the way I do. Not that there was anything wrong with the way you looked. You always looked fresh and attractive, far younger than you are. Now there's a kind of dewy look about you, know what I mean? You're a knock-out Vanda, and I'm not just saying that to try to make you feel better.

I can see you don't need that kind of emotional support. But you don't want to discuss that, I can see. I'll bring you up to date on the gang, instead. Sure, I know you've heard from everyone, but they won't tell you the things you might really want to know. God, I feel like old times have returned. You're really the only way I could feel comfortable discussing things with.

You heard about Ellen? She told you herself? Did she also tell you why he left? Oh, she mentioned he succumbed to his wandering eye, did she? Nothing about her own hot affair with her personal trainer, right? I'm serious. None of us thought she would go ahead with an affair, we thought it just wasn't her style. Hey, you never know!

She's definitely not happy about the separation. Not the least because her daughter won't speak to her, and her son has gone to live with his father. The kids were devastated. They were the perfect family, right? Didn't we always say they were the best parents, the most devoted pair among us? Who might have predicted they'd represent the second marriage disintegration.

Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to remind you like that. Anyway, it's not the same with her, as it was with you and Harry, just not the same at all. And there's always the chance, I think, from what you wrote, that you might still get together, right? Wrong? Sorry. I won't pry. No, I'm not trying to pry, we just kind of fell into this. I was talking about Ellen. Okay, I'll be a little more sensitive. Sorry.

Anyway, are you coming along to Linda's garden party? She's invited some new people. Girls only, that's why she's holding it on Friday afternoon. I told her it would be more manageable that way, given the recent collapse of ... sorry. Guess what? I finally came out with it, told her that she shouldn't invite Monica. None of us enjoy having her around. Linda was adamant that Monica was an old friend, she wouldn't hear of excluding her.

Then I gave her the option of Monica or me. I meant it, and she knew I meant it. I just referred her to her options. Monica is too much of an embarrassment. We've all kept ourselves in pretty good shape, and she's a total, slovenly mess. Every time I look at her I feel like throwing up. I mean, most of us have discussed it; we're ready to disinvest ourselves of her presence.

She's grotesque, disgusting, can't even walk a few feet. The only part of her I recognize is her face, those features sunk in that mass of flesh. Her head looks like a grape on top of an exercise ball, her body is so bloated. She's beyond social acceptance. It's not like she couldn't do something for herself. She's a glutton. It was fun when we were younger and we all joked about it, and indulged ourselves, sometimes.

But enough's enough. We want to enjoy ourselves, not have to confront her misery. And it's a self-imposed misery. She could have stopped gorging herself, she could have gone out like the rest of us did, tennis, golf, running, gym workouts. She was always too damn lazy, and that's the result, morbid obesity. We want to enjoy ourselves when we get together, not confront her disgusting presence.

I still can't understand why Myron values her. He does, you know. He must, he's always hovering around here, when he's home. Not that he's home all that much, granted. Did you know his new job keeps him on the road? No kidding, he's gone all over the place. But when he's around, it's yes Monica this and yes Monica that. And can he fetch her a cup of tea?

She's disgusting, he's disgusting.

Vanda ... wait! Where're you going? What's the matter with you, anyway!

c. 2009 Rita Rosenfeld