Read Online What Nora Knew by Linda Yellin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Yellin
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on you. Under those circumstances you might have wondered.”
Kristine adjusted her eyeglasses. “What if we’ve alreadymet our soul mates, only we just haven’t realized it? The husbands we’ll be sitting next to on a love seat someday, talking about our lifelong romances.” I looked around in search of these mystery men. Kristine cupped her right hand in front of her left and held them to her eye like a camera lens focused on me. “ When Molly Met Whomever. Maybe you already know whomever.”
“Maybe Russell’s whomever.”
Kristine snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
* * *
Kristine lives in the Village in an illegal sublet. She took a cab west to get home. I took the F train and transferred to the 6. My fellow travelers included people sleeping, people reading, people staring into space. I sat across from a young couple. A tattoo on the guy’s forearm said WHALE BELLY . I assumed it was the name of a band and not his favorite side dish. The girl had a safety pin pierced through one eyebrow. I couldn’t see her other eyebrow; her face was mashed against Mr. Whale Belly’s shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I said, competing against the noise of the subway. “I write for EyeSpy, the online magazine that’s not Gawker but like it, and I’m doing an article about love.”
“Love?” the guy said.
“Will our names be used?” the girl said.
“I can see you two look connected.”
“We do?” the guy said.
“He’s my boyfriend. Not my relative,” the girl said.
“How’d you two meet?”
“At a concert,” the guy said.
“How sweet! What’s the first thing you said to one another?”
“I don’t know. I was high,” the girl said.
“Me, too,” the guy said.
“This sounds like a terrible article,” the girl said.
5
INTERVIEW NOTES. TIFFANY’S, 5TH AVENUE. 2ND FLOOR. THURSDAY, JUNE 9
1:45 p.m.
ME : Can I ask you a question?
YOUNG MAN : I don’t work here.
ME : I see you’re eyeing engagement rings.
YOUNG MAN : Do you work here?
ME : No. EyeSpy.
YOUNG MAN : On customers? That is really rude.
1:52 p.m.
ME : Looks like you two are getting engaged.
WOMAN WITH BANGS : We’re ring shopping.
ME : How do you know it will last, that two years from now you won’t be trying to resell your ring on eBay?
MAN WITH SIDEBURNS : Who sent you here?
WOMAN WITH BANGS : His mother?
ME : I’m a reporter.
WOMAN WITH BANGS : (teary-eyed) She’s right! What if it doesn’t last?
1:58 p.m.
ME : So where did you two soul mates meet?
GIRL IN PONYTAIL : At a barn dance.
ME : Excuse me?
FRESH-FACED GUY : We’re from Nebraska.
GIRL IN PONYTAIL : We’re visiting New York because what’s more romantic than buying your engagement ring at Tiffany’s?
ME : Buying the same ring for half price on 47th St.
2:03 p.m
SECURITY GUARD : I’m sorry, ma’am. But we must ask you to leave.
* * *
On Friday, Deirdre dropped a press kit and plastic baggie on my desk. “A new assignment,” she said. “See if they work.” She jingled and wafted off.
“If what work?” Emily called out from the other side of my cubicle.
“Gift certificates for Bergdorf’s,” I called back.
I opened the baggie and pulled out panties with some kind of rubber plug, about the size of a nipple on a baby bottle, sewn into the crotch. Now I knew why Deirdre had made a Road Runner exit. According to the instructions, if I inserted the one-inch silicone extension vaginally, I’d have a focus point for performing Kegel exercises. Several bullet points on the press sheet explained why tighter is better, one of which claimed I could release stress throughout the day. A good thing, since these panties were already stressing me out.
Saturday morning I was meeting Angela and Kristine at the Met. Angela’s idea. Something to do with a client of hers, a Greek restaurant. Kristine and I were waiting at the top of the stairs when Angela came bounding up, out of breath. “Sorry!” she said. She’d been with Mr. Iannuzzeli,
Kristine adjusted her eyeglasses. “What if we’ve alreadymet our soul mates, only we just haven’t realized it? The husbands we’ll be sitting next to on a love seat someday, talking about our lifelong romances.” I looked around in search of these mystery men. Kristine cupped her right hand in front of her left and held them to her eye like a camera lens focused on me. “ When Molly Met Whomever. Maybe you already know whomever.”
“Maybe Russell’s whomever.”
Kristine snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
* * *
Kristine lives in the Village in an illegal sublet. She took a cab west to get home. I took the F train and transferred to the 6. My fellow travelers included people sleeping, people reading, people staring into space. I sat across from a young couple. A tattoo on the guy’s forearm said WHALE BELLY . I assumed it was the name of a band and not his favorite side dish. The girl had a safety pin pierced through one eyebrow. I couldn’t see her other eyebrow; her face was mashed against Mr. Whale Belly’s shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I said, competing against the noise of the subway. “I write for EyeSpy, the online magazine that’s not Gawker but like it, and I’m doing an article about love.”
“Love?” the guy said.
“Will our names be used?” the girl said.
“I can see you two look connected.”
“We do?” the guy said.
“He’s my boyfriend. Not my relative,” the girl said.
“How’d you two meet?”
“At a concert,” the guy said.
“How sweet! What’s the first thing you said to one another?”
“I don’t know. I was high,” the girl said.
“Me, too,” the guy said.
“This sounds like a terrible article,” the girl said.
5
INTERVIEW NOTES. TIFFANY’S, 5TH AVENUE. 2ND FLOOR. THURSDAY, JUNE 9
1:45 p.m.
ME : Can I ask you a question?
YOUNG MAN : I don’t work here.
ME : I see you’re eyeing engagement rings.
YOUNG MAN : Do you work here?
ME : No. EyeSpy.
YOUNG MAN : On customers? That is really rude.
1:52 p.m.
ME : Looks like you two are getting engaged.
WOMAN WITH BANGS : We’re ring shopping.
ME : How do you know it will last, that two years from now you won’t be trying to resell your ring on eBay?
MAN WITH SIDEBURNS : Who sent you here?
WOMAN WITH BANGS : His mother?
ME : I’m a reporter.
WOMAN WITH BANGS : (teary-eyed) She’s right! What if it doesn’t last?
1:58 p.m.
ME : So where did you two soul mates meet?
GIRL IN PONYTAIL : At a barn dance.
ME : Excuse me?
FRESH-FACED GUY : We’re from Nebraska.
GIRL IN PONYTAIL : We’re visiting New York because what’s more romantic than buying your engagement ring at Tiffany’s?
ME : Buying the same ring for half price on 47th St.
2:03 p.m
SECURITY GUARD : I’m sorry, ma’am. But we must ask you to leave.
* * *
On Friday, Deirdre dropped a press kit and plastic baggie on my desk. “A new assignment,” she said. “See if they work.” She jingled and wafted off.
“If what work?” Emily called out from the other side of my cubicle.
“Gift certificates for Bergdorf’s,” I called back.
I opened the baggie and pulled out panties with some kind of rubber plug, about the size of a nipple on a baby bottle, sewn into the crotch. Now I knew why Deirdre had made a Road Runner exit. According to the instructions, if I inserted the one-inch silicone extension vaginally, I’d have a focus point for performing Kegel exercises. Several bullet points on the press sheet explained why tighter is better, one of which claimed I could release stress throughout the day. A good thing, since these panties were already stressing me out.
Saturday morning I was meeting Angela and Kristine at the Met. Angela’s idea. Something to do with a client of hers, a Greek restaurant. Kristine and I were waiting at the top of the stairs when Angela came bounding up, out of breath. “Sorry!” she said. She’d been with Mr. Iannuzzeli,
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