Read Online The Not-So-Perfect Man by Valerie Frankel - Free Book Online
Authors: Valerie Frankel
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five times for surprising her, forgetting, in his embarrassment for her, what he’d wanted in the first place. And he hadn’t dared touch her again.
Ilene said, “Are you set on him?”
Betty was afraid to say yes. If she admitted it to her sisters, the risk of failure and rejection tripled, quadrupled in a mere second. Frieda could plunge into a relationship with Sam because she had an excellent track record with boyfriends. She seemed unafraid. Then again, after what she’d been through with Gregg, what could be worse? Betty had a long history of failure. But only experience could change that.
She would take inspiration from Frieda. Betty said, “Yes. I’m set on him.”
Ilene slammed her hand on the table and declared, “Then you’ll have to have him. Do you have a plan?”
God, no. “My plan,” said Betty, “is to do absolutely nothing.”
Ilene shook her head. “That won’t work.”
Frieda said, “Have you considered asking him out?”
Betty choked on her wine at the question.
At that moment, the waiter appeared, dragging the chalkboard menu with him. He described the night’s fare, and the sisters placed their orders: Frieda asked for the salmon steak; Ilene, grilled chicken with rosemary; Betty, filet mignon with pepper cream sauce and mashed sweet potatoes on the side.
Once the waiter was gone, Ilene said, “If you truly want this man, you should rethink your order.” Betty felt the blow in her solar plexus. After laying herself belly-up and vulnerable, Betty couldn’t believe Ilene would give her shit. Then again, when it came to the subject of weight, Ilene was relentless.
“Ilene, don’t,” said Frieda.
The oldest sister said, “Isn’t the whole point of these dinners to help each other? To lay out our problems and work as a team to solve them?”
Frieda said, “It’s been the unspoken objective, but now that you’ve described it like that, the whole idea seems contrived.”
Betty said, “We haven’t dissected your problems, Ilene. What can we help you with? How’s Peter? Your marriage? Any luck getting him to lose weight?”
Ilene said, “I’m sorry that I’ve upset you, Betty. But if you would stop being so defensive and sensitive and just listen to me, you’ll be glad you did. It’s nearly impossible to look at your own life objectively.”
“What makes you think you’re being objective when you look at my life, or Frieda’s?” asked Betty.
“Can we please change the subject?” asked Frieda, playing referee.
“And, thanks for asking, my marriage is perfect,” said Ilene. “Peter is perfect. He’s working very hard on his diet and appreciates my support.”
“Objectively speaking,” said Betty, “bullshit.”
Chapter 11
Saturday, October 19
11 A . M .
Ilene turned on the shower full blast. Hot. Hotter than Peter could take. He’d asked if he could join her. She said, “I’m not sure you can stand the heat.”
He glared at her and said, “Is that your way of telling me to stay out of the kitchen?”
“Not at all,” she replied, and then hopped into the steaming stream of water, effectively ending conversation.
Ilene had been awake since nine. She bounded out of the bed to make herself breakfast, read the paper, and checked any after-the-bell financial news on FNN. She was eager to get started with her Saturday. First, she’d head over to David Isen’s new bachelor pad at noon to help him unpack until fourish, then go to the gym and pound the treadmill into submission for an hour. Steam, sauna, and then she’d get her six o’clock Swedish massage at the club spa from Renaldo. After which she’d come home, make herself a giant salad, and watch at least three hours of the BBC six-hour production of The Singing Detective. Ilene wasn’t sure what Peter had planned. She should have checked before she’d scheduled her day. But then again, Saturday had long been the one day of the week they both reserved for personal use.
She stepped out
Ilene said, “Are you set on him?”
Betty was afraid to say yes. If she admitted it to her sisters, the risk of failure and rejection tripled, quadrupled in a mere second. Frieda could plunge into a relationship with Sam because she had an excellent track record with boyfriends. She seemed unafraid. Then again, after what she’d been through with Gregg, what could be worse? Betty had a long history of failure. But only experience could change that.
She would take inspiration from Frieda. Betty said, “Yes. I’m set on him.”
Ilene slammed her hand on the table and declared, “Then you’ll have to have him. Do you have a plan?”
God, no. “My plan,” said Betty, “is to do absolutely nothing.”
Ilene shook her head. “That won’t work.”
Frieda said, “Have you considered asking him out?”
Betty choked on her wine at the question.
At that moment, the waiter appeared, dragging the chalkboard menu with him. He described the night’s fare, and the sisters placed their orders: Frieda asked for the salmon steak; Ilene, grilled chicken with rosemary; Betty, filet mignon with pepper cream sauce and mashed sweet potatoes on the side.
Once the waiter was gone, Ilene said, “If you truly want this man, you should rethink your order.” Betty felt the blow in her solar plexus. After laying herself belly-up and vulnerable, Betty couldn’t believe Ilene would give her shit. Then again, when it came to the subject of weight, Ilene was relentless.
“Ilene, don’t,” said Frieda.
The oldest sister said, “Isn’t the whole point of these dinners to help each other? To lay out our problems and work as a team to solve them?”
Frieda said, “It’s been the unspoken objective, but now that you’ve described it like that, the whole idea seems contrived.”
Betty said, “We haven’t dissected your problems, Ilene. What can we help you with? How’s Peter? Your marriage? Any luck getting him to lose weight?”
Ilene said, “I’m sorry that I’ve upset you, Betty. But if you would stop being so defensive and sensitive and just listen to me, you’ll be glad you did. It’s nearly impossible to look at your own life objectively.”
“What makes you think you’re being objective when you look at my life, or Frieda’s?” asked Betty.
“Can we please change the subject?” asked Frieda, playing referee.
“And, thanks for asking, my marriage is perfect,” said Ilene. “Peter is perfect. He’s working very hard on his diet and appreciates my support.”
“Objectively speaking,” said Betty, “bullshit.”
Chapter 11
Saturday, October 19
11 A . M .
Ilene turned on the shower full blast. Hot. Hotter than Peter could take. He’d asked if he could join her. She said, “I’m not sure you can stand the heat.”
He glared at her and said, “Is that your way of telling me to stay out of the kitchen?”
“Not at all,” she replied, and then hopped into the steaming stream of water, effectively ending conversation.
Ilene had been awake since nine. She bounded out of the bed to make herself breakfast, read the paper, and checked any after-the-bell financial news on FNN. She was eager to get started with her Saturday. First, she’d head over to David Isen’s new bachelor pad at noon to help him unpack until fourish, then go to the gym and pound the treadmill into submission for an hour. Steam, sauna, and then she’d get her six o’clock Swedish massage at the club spa from Renaldo. After which she’d come home, make herself a giant salad, and watch at least three hours of the BBC six-hour production of The Singing Detective. Ilene wasn’t sure what Peter had planned. She should have checked before she’d scheduled her day. But then again, Saturday had long been the one day of the week they both reserved for personal use.
She stepped out
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