Wifey by Judy Blume Read Free Book Online Page A

school. We have only two black families in the town and both of them are professional.”
    “It’s really not a racial thing,” Brown said, joining them. Brown’s nails were filed to squares instead of points and polished in frosty brown, to match her frosty brown eye shadow, her frosty brown hair, her frosty brown suntan, her frosty brown dress. “It’s more of a socioeconomic thing, don’t you think?”
    “Yes and no,” Funky said. “Yes, in the sense that the professional ones tend to think more like us and want what’s best for their children. No, in the sense that they’re still different no matter how hard you try to pretend they’re not. I mean, put one in this room, right now, and suddenly we’d all clam up.” She took a cheese puff from the tray offered by Elena, the black maid. “Thank you.”
    Sandy was trying to sort out the men. Ben was the urologist with the vasectomy button on his collar. Had he performed his own vasectomy? No, how could he see over that belly? It might be nice if Norman had a vasectomy. Sandy hated her diaphragm. It was so messy. And the Pill made her sick. She’d have to approach the subject carefully, though, because Norm was very sensitive about his genitals.
    Mickey had a lot of hair and some kind of engineering company. Then there was Gish. He practiced law in Newark, specialized in personal injury work and was, according to Myra, cleaning up. He and Brown were neighbors of Myra’s in Short Hills. Sandy didn’t like the way he looked her up and down every time she crossed the room. It made her uncomfortable.
    So much for the men.
    “Your husband,” Luscious said, settling next to Sandy on the sofa, “is such a tiger! That serve . . . what a smash! I told him, don’t let up on me just because I’m a girl, and he didn’t . . . aced me every time . . . you must be really proud of him . . .” Luscious, tiny, blonde, and perfect, looked like an aging Barbie Doll.
    “Yes,” Sandy answered.
    “And his backhand is nothing to sneeze at,” Brown said, sitting on Sandy’s other side. “Wicked, absolutely wicked!”
    “He really enjoys his games,” Sandy told them.
    “It’s not just a question of
enjoy,
” Funky added, leaning over the back of the sofa so that Sandy could feel her breath on her neck. “It’s talent. Pure, unadulterated talent.”
    Pure, unadulterated bullshit,
Sandy thought, wishing she were brave enough to say it out loud.
    “I should be so lucky!” Brown said, laughing down her vodka and orange juice.
    “Normie . . . tiger . . .” Luscious called across the room to where the men had gathered. “Will you play with me tomorrow . . . singles . . . for just a little while?”
    “Sure thing,” Norman called back. “Let’s say, from three-thirty to three forty-five.”
    And later, after dessert, while they were sitting around sipping brandy, Ben said to Norman, “You should join The Club.”
    “I’ve been telling him that all week,” Myra said.
    “And I’ve been thinking about it,” Norman said.
    That was certainly news to Sandy.
    “It makes a lot of sense,” Norman said.
    Gish, who was seated next to Sandy on the small sofa, turned to her and said, “What do you think?”
    “What . . . oh, me?” Sandy asked, surprised to find herself in the conversation. “Well, I’m not an athlete so it’s hard for me to say if we should invest that much in The Club.”
    “But Sandy,” Myra said, “it’s more than a club . . . it’s a way of life . . . it’s not just golf and tennis . . . you’d make wonderful friends . . . look at us . . .” She smiled and extended her arms.
    “And your children will meet the right kinds of young people too,” Funky said.
    “Playing those public courses is a waste of time,” Ben told Norman. “How long do you have to wait to tee off on weekends?”
    “I get up at six so I usually don’t have to wait.”
    “Wouldn’t you rather sleep till nine?”