Read Online What Nora Knew by Linda Yellin - Free Book Online Page A

nightmares about that.”
    “Lloyd Bentsen and Dan Quayle,” Kristine said.
    “Of course you’d know that.”
    Kristine shrugged. “I know stuff.”
    She does know stuff. She’s a walking encyclopedia of trivia. She was on It’s Academic as a kid.
    Our waitress returned, plates lining her arm. “Enough appetizers for you?” she asked, after depositing our first round. We nodded our heads yes and she left.
    I tasted the quinoa varnishkes and wrote a surreptitious rating in the notebook hidden on my lap. I must have looked like I was masturbating throughout the meal. “How would you rate the free-range-chicken salad?” I asked Kristine.
    She wiggled her hand side to side like so-so. “I hate thinking about all the happy little chickens,” she said, “free, running around the range, and the next thing you know—bam! They’re salad.”
    “Pulled pork gets me. I picture little piggy tug-of-wars.”
    We shared a moment of silence. Then we shared nova mousse with cream cheese.
    Over wild-halibut gefilte fish Kristine told me she was exhausted from dating. “What’s the difference between a first date and an interview?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Two glasses of wine.”
    I said, “That’s why I’m grateful I found Russell.”
    Kristine groaned. “What’s the difference between Russell and a heart attack?”
    “What?”
    “One’s exciting.”
    Kristine is not a Russell fan. She is tolerant of Russell, not enthused. I maintain she just needs to know him better. “Russell’s exciting,” I said.
    “Give me an example.”
    I thought a bit. “Russell and I have a very comfortable relationship.”
    Kristine shook her head. “Aren’t you about thirty years too early for comfortable ?”
    “I tried excitement once. Comfortable has more long-term potential.”
    “You can have both, you know.” Kristine peered closer at her plate. “Something’s funny about this horseradish aioli.”
    “Clean your eyeglasses. It’s fine.”
    Over Kobe-beef brisket she informed me that she was not giving up on love, her subtle implication not all that subtle. She scrunched her face at the brisket, gave it a thumbs-down. “I have four dates lined up this week. A musician, a writer, a stand-up comic, and a pharmacist. I hope one of them’s decent enough to sleep with.”
    “My money’s on the pharmacist,” I said, scribbling bad brisket in my lap. “If the date’s depressing, at least you can ask for drugs.”
    “Maybe I’ll buy a dog. People meet people at dog parks all the time.”
    “Dog lovers meet other dog lovers at dog parks. You hate dogs.”
    Kristine sampled the organic-egg salad. I sampled the organic-egg salad. And added salt.
    “Hot guys frequent rock-climbing clubs,” she said. “That could be a place to meet someone.”
    I grinned at my optimistic friend. “Yes, sweetie. Right before you meet a paramedic.” I flipped my notebook to another page and read off my lap. “How’s this work as an opening for my piece? ‘If you’re looking for true love, don’t forget to ask for an ID. Otherwise, who knows what you’ll get. Heartache? Deceit? Maybe embarrassed to death on a Kiss Cam.’ ”
    “That’s meant to be funny?” Kristine said.
    “It’ll get funny.”
    “How soon?”
    “Soon.”
    “Better be soon because so far it’s not funny.”
    “It’s honest. Honest is good.”
    “You want Nora Ephron. Not Charles Dickens. That sounds like an article about love written by someone who doesn’t believe in love.”
    “So?”
    “Jesus, Molly, how can you listen to those When Harry Met Sally couples and not believe in love?”
    “Those are actors,” I said. “And what’s more unknowable than the happiness of couples? My parents seem happy, and Pammie and her rich husband seem happy, but if you knew Evan and me, you’d have thought we were happy, too. Unless, maybe, you’d run into him in a bar, in which case he probably would have offered to buy you a drink, then hit