it?” When she finally comprehended what he was talking about, she almost fainted from joy, and the salesmen, who were still there and Dolly, the model/ bookkeeper, who’d peeked out from the office, had applauded.
Thus the intersecting of the X. Sylvia finally understood what his customers saw in her husband. While no one would call Leonard conventionally handsome, with his made-to-order suits and beautifully cut hair he could look ultra smart—in an Italian kind of way, but upper-class Italian, from Italy. She remembered how once she’d loathed his lips, but now realized that if you looked at him as a whole, he was very appealing. Now and then, even stunning.
And Leonard’s heart softened too. He realized that while his wife’s diction all but shouted “Born in Brooklyn! Bred inQueens!” throughout her childhood she’d been forced to whisper instead of talk. So who heard the accent? To look at her, she could be an English horsewoman.
But after the legs of the X cross, they again part. So it was with Mr. and Mrs. White. In her third month of pregnancy with her second daughter (who would be named Robin Renée), Sylvia came down with terrible morning sickness. Then it became all-day sickness. Leonard worried about how thin she was getting, how bad it was for the baby because sometimes Sylvia’s entire dinner would be a single Ritz cracker. Her face became spotty and her hair lost its shine, but when he got home, he would take her in his arms and say something reassuring, like: “It won’t last forever.”
But instead of being comforted, she got all weepy and clung to him. Sitting beside him in the movies over the weekend, hugging his arm, stuffing it in the divide between her two swollen breasts. Butting her pillow against his at night, so he could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck. And it wasn’t just physical clinging. She called him first thing in the morning: How was the ride in on the Long Island Rail Road? Late morning: Who are you having lunch with? Early afternoon: What did you have for lunch? Was it good? Did you have dessert? Late afternoon: How’s it going? Any good customers stop in? Early evening: What train are you taking home? She’s pregnant, he told himself. And she loves me.
But that made him realize that she had never before displayed this interest, this passion for him. Did the hormone changes in her make her feel more free? Well, she hadn’t been so free when she was pregnant with Lee. In fact, sometimes he knew Sylvia was pretending to get excited, and she was a lousy pretender. Oooo. Oooo. Always Oooo, repeated two times. But now she had a repertoire of noises, and they were for real. She’d become crazy for him. Now that he was well-to-do.
Now she always was ready for him. Not just ready: If he didn’t come to her, she’d come to him. Now, no matter what she wore, her nipples always stuck out. He could feel them when she clung to him. Well, he thought, trying hard to be fair, I’m a big shot now. That’s very attractive to women. But a voice called up from his subconscious: Hey, Len. Is that the real thing, when the girl has to see sable before she falls in love?
A couple of months after she fell for her husband, Sylvia dropped by the salon on her way to Tailored Woman, to use the bathroom. Leonard introduced her to Mrs. Wriston Brandt, wife of
the
senior partner in
the
biggest Wall Street law firm, a man once referred to as “Mr. Trusts and Estates” by the
Wall Street Journal.
Instead of saying “How do you do,” or, if that was too stuffy, “Hello,” Sylvia had said “Hi.” But the way she said it, all nasally, with that New York intonation. It came out “Hoy.” To his credit, Leonard admitted to himself that he was a terrible snob—and that the only decent pedigree in the entire White household belonged to their new collie, Duchess. But still … “Hoy.”
Mere weeks after the Mrs. Wriston Brandt incident, Leonard was going over accounts payable with
Thus the intersecting of the X. Sylvia finally understood what his customers saw in her husband. While no one would call Leonard conventionally handsome, with his made-to-order suits and beautifully cut hair he could look ultra smart—in an Italian kind of way, but upper-class Italian, from Italy. She remembered how once she’d loathed his lips, but now realized that if you looked at him as a whole, he was very appealing. Now and then, even stunning.
And Leonard’s heart softened too. He realized that while his wife’s diction all but shouted “Born in Brooklyn! Bred inQueens!” throughout her childhood she’d been forced to whisper instead of talk. So who heard the accent? To look at her, she could be an English horsewoman.
But after the legs of the X cross, they again part. So it was with Mr. and Mrs. White. In her third month of pregnancy with her second daughter (who would be named Robin Renée), Sylvia came down with terrible morning sickness. Then it became all-day sickness. Leonard worried about how thin she was getting, how bad it was for the baby because sometimes Sylvia’s entire dinner would be a single Ritz cracker. Her face became spotty and her hair lost its shine, but when he got home, he would take her in his arms and say something reassuring, like: “It won’t last forever.”
But instead of being comforted, she got all weepy and clung to him. Sitting beside him in the movies over the weekend, hugging his arm, stuffing it in the divide between her two swollen breasts. Butting her pillow against his at night, so he could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck. And it wasn’t just physical clinging. She called him first thing in the morning: How was the ride in on the Long Island Rail Road? Late morning: Who are you having lunch with? Early afternoon: What did you have for lunch? Was it good? Did you have dessert? Late afternoon: How’s it going? Any good customers stop in? Early evening: What train are you taking home? She’s pregnant, he told himself. And she loves me.
But that made him realize that she had never before displayed this interest, this passion for him. Did the hormone changes in her make her feel more free? Well, she hadn’t been so free when she was pregnant with Lee. In fact, sometimes he knew Sylvia was pretending to get excited, and she was a lousy pretender. Oooo. Oooo. Always Oooo, repeated two times. But now she had a repertoire of noises, and they were for real. She’d become crazy for him. Now that he was well-to-do.
Now she always was ready for him. Not just ready: If he didn’t come to her, she’d come to him. Now, no matter what she wore, her nipples always stuck out. He could feel them when she clung to him. Well, he thought, trying hard to be fair, I’m a big shot now. That’s very attractive to women. But a voice called up from his subconscious: Hey, Len. Is that the real thing, when the girl has to see sable before she falls in love?
A couple of months after she fell for her husband, Sylvia dropped by the salon on her way to Tailored Woman, to use the bathroom. Leonard introduced her to Mrs. Wriston Brandt, wife of
the
senior partner in
the
biggest Wall Street law firm, a man once referred to as “Mr. Trusts and Estates” by the
Wall Street Journal.
Instead of saying “How do you do,” or, if that was too stuffy, “Hello,” Sylvia had said “Hi.” But the way she said it, all nasally, with that New York intonation. It came out “Hoy.” To his credit, Leonard admitted to himself that he was a terrible snob—and that the only decent pedigree in the entire White household belonged to their new collie, Duchess. But still … “Hoy.”
Mere weeks after the Mrs. Wriston Brandt incident, Leonard was going over accounts payable with
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