Read Online The Accidental Book Club by Jennifer Scott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Scott
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divorced because they cheated or they have no job and . . . God, to think about bringing a daughter into this world to face all that . . . I just . . . can’t.”
“I can see that,” Jean said. More than May even knew, probably.
May let the glass float, and made a face at Jean over her shoulder. “I make up fake disastrous dates so I can stay home with my cat and eat takeout in my pajamas. That’s not normal, is it?”
Jean and May gazed at each other for a moment; then both burst out laughing. “No, I suppose it’s not,” Jean said. “But whatever works for you is what is normal, right?”
“Right,” May said, going back to the dishes. “And I don’t make them up for me. It’s just that . . . the ladies, they all want to know how it’s going. It’s like they need proof that I’m at least trying to find myself a husband. So I just give them what they want, you know? And I make them all crazy bad dates so I won’t look weird for not wanting to go on another one. I figure they’re little white lies, so what does it matter? This way I don’t get judged. There’s probably something wrong with me. Do you think?” She went back to washing her glass.
“Of course not,” Jean had replied. “Nobody’s required to do it a certain way. If you’re happy, you’re happy. It’s possible to be happy alone. Look at me.” She’d meant to finish the sentence with something hopeful like,
Look at me! I’m alone and I’m happy!
but she couldn’t make herself say the words. She was alone. But, unlike May, she cared. She still longed for him every day, like a silly fairy-tale princess. And not for
a man
. She longed for one specific man: Wayne.
“Mitzi would think there’s something wrong with me,” May had said.
“Mitzi thinks there’s something wrong with everyone,” Jean had answered, and they’d laughed.
She’d never told anyone about her conversation with May that day, not even Loretta, with whom Jean shared everything. Had Wayne been alive, she might have told him, but otherwise, she’d seen May’s doubts and fears as their secret, and she’d stopped jumping on the when-are-you-getting-married bandwagon whenever the others brought it up. Which they always did. And today was no different.
“Yeah, tell us about the date,” Dorothy urged. “Was it love at first sight?” Jean waited for the lie.
May shrugged, stroking the Thackeray cover. “He was bald. Well, not bald-bald, but balding, so he’s still in denial about it.”
“Uh-oh, comb-over city,” Mitzi said in a low voice.
“Exactly. And he wore a lot of brown.”
“What’s wrong with brown? I like brown,” Jean said. Of course, she was wearing a brown plaid flannel shirt with a brown turtleneck underneath it, which May took one look at and cracked up.
“What? Brown is fine,” Jean insisted.
“But brown and balding on a first date is not,” Mitzi finished. She lifted her wineglass and clinked it against May’s water glass. “I’m with you on that one, sister. Kick him to the curb before he brings out the white socks and black shoes.”
“Can we get back to the dog humping a pillow?” Loretta said, turning the book around again and tapping it on the table. “I do not see sharpei.”
“I think he’s kind of handsome,” Janet said, and everyone turned at once, suddenly reminded that she was in the room with them. This happened often. Janet would finally get the courage to squeak out something, and everyone would stop what they were doing and stare at her. It couldn’t have made her shyness any better. She sipped on her water and swallowed much harder than she needed to. Redness crept up her neck.
“Well, finally!” Loretta said, a little too late to be seamless. She set the book down and gestured toward Janet. “Someone who knows sexy. The rest of you have no taste.”
“Oh! Speaking of no taste,” Dorothy said, gulping down the last of her wine. “I heard the ex’s skank got a job at Lookie
“I can see that,” Jean said. More than May even knew, probably.
May let the glass float, and made a face at Jean over her shoulder. “I make up fake disastrous dates so I can stay home with my cat and eat takeout in my pajamas. That’s not normal, is it?”
Jean and May gazed at each other for a moment; then both burst out laughing. “No, I suppose it’s not,” Jean said. “But whatever works for you is what is normal, right?”
“Right,” May said, going back to the dishes. “And I don’t make them up for me. It’s just that . . . the ladies, they all want to know how it’s going. It’s like they need proof that I’m at least trying to find myself a husband. So I just give them what they want, you know? And I make them all crazy bad dates so I won’t look weird for not wanting to go on another one. I figure they’re little white lies, so what does it matter? This way I don’t get judged. There’s probably something wrong with me. Do you think?” She went back to washing her glass.
“Of course not,” Jean had replied. “Nobody’s required to do it a certain way. If you’re happy, you’re happy. It’s possible to be happy alone. Look at me.” She’d meant to finish the sentence with something hopeful like,
Look at me! I’m alone and I’m happy!
but she couldn’t make herself say the words. She was alone. But, unlike May, she cared. She still longed for him every day, like a silly fairy-tale princess. And not for
a man
. She longed for one specific man: Wayne.
“Mitzi would think there’s something wrong with me,” May had said.
“Mitzi thinks there’s something wrong with everyone,” Jean had answered, and they’d laughed.
She’d never told anyone about her conversation with May that day, not even Loretta, with whom Jean shared everything. Had Wayne been alive, she might have told him, but otherwise, she’d seen May’s doubts and fears as their secret, and she’d stopped jumping on the when-are-you-getting-married bandwagon whenever the others brought it up. Which they always did. And today was no different.
“Yeah, tell us about the date,” Dorothy urged. “Was it love at first sight?” Jean waited for the lie.
May shrugged, stroking the Thackeray cover. “He was bald. Well, not bald-bald, but balding, so he’s still in denial about it.”
“Uh-oh, comb-over city,” Mitzi said in a low voice.
“Exactly. And he wore a lot of brown.”
“What’s wrong with brown? I like brown,” Jean said. Of course, she was wearing a brown plaid flannel shirt with a brown turtleneck underneath it, which May took one look at and cracked up.
“What? Brown is fine,” Jean insisted.
“But brown and balding on a first date is not,” Mitzi finished. She lifted her wineglass and clinked it against May’s water glass. “I’m with you on that one, sister. Kick him to the curb before he brings out the white socks and black shoes.”
“Can we get back to the dog humping a pillow?” Loretta said, turning the book around again and tapping it on the table. “I do not see sharpei.”
“I think he’s kind of handsome,” Janet said, and everyone turned at once, suddenly reminded that she was in the room with them. This happened often. Janet would finally get the courage to squeak out something, and everyone would stop what they were doing and stare at her. It couldn’t have made her shyness any better. She sipped on her water and swallowed much harder than she needed to. Redness crept up her neck.
“Well, finally!” Loretta said, a little too late to be seamless. She set the book down and gestured toward Janet. “Someone who knows sexy. The rest of you have no taste.”
“Oh! Speaking of no taste,” Dorothy said, gulping down the last of her wine. “I heard the ex’s skank got a job at Lookie
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