The Men I Didn't Marry by Janice Kaplan Read Free Book Online

run her life. Right now I want to turn and run for mine. But the least I can do is make the situation real for Ashlee. I reach into my bag and, with a flourish, grab for the family picture I carry around in my wallet. Not the posed portrait, but the one of all of us frolicking on the beach in Nantucket, just last summer. Staring straight at Ashlee, I pull it out and hand it over.
    “Here,” I say. “This is what you should think about when you’re with a married man.”
    Ashlee takes a long look at what I’ve given her. She looks puzzled, then she hands it back.
    “Listen, I don’t know who you are, but I really need to shower.
    Thanks for showing me that. See ya.” She saunters away unfazed, her hair bouncing, her hips bouncing and, dammit, her cellulite-free thighs not bouncing.
    I’m surprised at her composure. No reaction at all? She’s a cool character. I look down at what I’m holding, and instead of seeing our family frolicking, I’m face-to-face with a bright logo: SAM’S CLUB. MEMBER #4555683310967. I gulp. That’s what I handed her?
    Mortified, I tuck it back into my purse, right next to the picture I’d meant to show. Tonight at dinner, Ashlee will regale Bill with her story about some crazy lady in the gym who was flashing her Sam’s Club card.
    I pull myself up straight, trying to regain some authority. I wag my finger in the air after her retreating back.
    “Never forget, Ashlee,” I call out. “I’m a discount shopper.”

Chapter THREE
    I RUSH OUT OF EQUINOX, feeling like a fool. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or at least crawl into my bed and hide under my covers. But I’ve already spent too much time there, and all I have to show for it are a lot of cookie crumbs between the sheets.
    But what else can I do? Clearly, I’m not ready to be part of the civilized world. Not that this world, particularly the corner that Bill inhabits, seems very civilized at the moment. I can’t believe I told Eric I’d meet him. What makes me think I could make it through an evening with a man, any man? I acted like a blithering idiot with Ashlee, and I’ll do the same with Eric. I have to cancel.
    I walk for a while, then stand at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Fiftieth Street, hesitating. Go home or go on?
    Bill found someone younger, prettier, and with a better bikini wax than me. (In fact, any bikini wax would be better since I’ve never gotten one at all.) The worst thing that could happen to a woman my age, right? But maybe there’s another way to look at it. What’s that expression about when a door closes, a window opens? Maybe I should start looking for open windows. And, goddamn it, if they’re all slammed shut, I’ll try to pry them open myself.
    I didn’t want to end this marriage. I was happy—or thought I was. But it’s gone and I can’t go back. All I can do is move forward. And what better place to start than with someone I already know?
    I march over to Saks to prepare for my date/my appointment/my evening—whatever it is I’m having—with my old boyfriend Eric. Maybe Ashlee looks good naked, but I’m determined to look good dressed.
    I head up to the fourth-floor designer department and pick out several pairs of shoes to try, each over three hundred dollars. Discount shopping be damned. If I finally have something to look forward to again, I’m going to do it right. Besides, buying shoes in bulk is never successful.
    “This pair definitely,” says the gay spike-haired salesman, after I’ve tried all of them on and am back to pair number two. He swivels his hip and drapes an arm over my shoulder. “They’re absolutely fantastic fuck-me shoes.”
    I pause in front of the mirror, contemplating the sexy open-toed Christian Louboutin sling backs that have wispy little feathers (sure to fall off) dusting the instep. Fuck-me shoes? I’m not sure what I’m expecting from the evening with Eric, but it’s definitely not that. On the other hand, they are fabulous.