Up & Out - Ariella Papa [53]
“I don’t know,” I say. They look good, but red? Kathy sighs.
“Those glasses are like a silk robe or a Prada suit. Those glasses say, ‘I am a children’s television producer, but I give a mean blow job.’”
“Kathy!” I say. I look at the salesperson, who is laughing nervously. “What will they match?”
“They’re red. Everything matches red.”
“Even pink,” offers the salesperson. Now they’re a team. Another customer comes over to us. She’s a woman in her mid-forties with a nice dress, but a bad haircut.
“That’s a great color for you,” she says to me. “I wish I could wear that color.”
Kathy looks at me with her eyebrow raised over her funky purple vintage frames. She told me so.
“Can you help me decide between these two pairs?” she says to Kathy. I feel for the salesperson. I look at myself again in the mirror. Red glasses, red shoelaces, maybe this is solidarity.
“I’ll take them,” I say to the salesperson. I do like them. The woman with the bad haircut is telling Kathy about her Internet dating experiences.
“Well, that’s why you have to get these.” She holds up a pair of midnight-blue frames. “Those tan ones make you look ten years older. I wore a pair of green-and-brown ones that had a similar shape when my fiancé proposed.”
“Oh my goodness,” says the woman in true awe. Kathy holds up her ring.
“Tiffany’s,” she says. The woman gushes over it. Kathy is quite smug. “I know.”
I hear gasps as Kathy recounts the whole story of Ron’s proposal. I rub my temples as I sign the credit card deposit receipt. More debt, yippee!
Kathy turns her attention back to me. “When are they going to be ready?”
“Next week,” I say.
“I want to see them on her again,” she instructs the salesperson. Then she laughs. “And I want to start getting a discount. I bring enough business here. She got those at my behest. And that other lady is getting the ones I suggested.”
The salesperson adjusts the glasses on me and starts writing up a ten-percent-off coupon for Kathy. She changes it to fifteen percent when Kathy clears her throat. I turn to Kathy.
“Those look great on you,” she says. She puts her tongue in the corner of her upper lip. “Mmm.”
“You wear your glasses during sex, don’t you?” I ask.
“Only if he’s good.”
We leave the store. Kathy wishes the bad haircut lady luck. She is thrilled to have been the fairy glasses mother for so many. I am further in credit card debt, but I can’t think about it. I deserve a little joy.
“Do you want to go to Nobu Next Door?” Kathy asks. “Will that put you in a better mood?”
“I’m in a great mood. I just paid too much for glasses that I don’t need.”
“Of course you don’t need them. But they look hot, so be happy and let’s get some tempura.”
“Don’t you have to go home to the ball and chain?”
“He’s at a game tonight.” My mouth has already begun to water about the prospect of spicy creamy sauce. I don’t care if I am Kathy’s backup plan.
Kathy and I have a really nice dinner. It’s been a long time since we hung out, just the two of us. Occasionally, I like to get my friends one-on-one. We don’t talk at all about Beth or Lauryn. And surprisingly, Kathy barely mentions the wedding. I find myself talking shop way too much.
We split a chocolate soufflé for dessert and Kathy tells me about how there are going to be a bunch of layoffs at her job and she knows about it because she had to report all the overages. She’s feeling pretty bad about it.
“I see all these people in the elevator or the lobby, and of course to me it’s just a bunch of names, but I know that the cuts will include some of these people. I feel awful. I want to scream, ‘Start saving your money! Don’t make any large purchases! You’re all getting up and outed!’”
“What?”
“That’s what they call it, on paper. Up and out.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“It sounds almost like a good thing.”
“I know. That’s how they get you. I have to talk about this and understand the economic benefit, but I can’t imagine how much it’s going to suck.”
“Up and out?”
“I know,” she says. “I know.”
“Wow, I’m probably getting up and outed,