Martha was surprised to realize that she felt a great kinship with these people. They were all tied together by that wretched phenomenon called Common Experience. They know, Martha thought, they understand. And there was no small comfort in this realization that she was not alone.
“I’ve got something really hot to tell you!”
“Wait. Let me guess. You lost ten pounds this week?”
Judy grimaced. “That would be an act of God. Only two pounds. Not bad, though. How about you?”
“Two and a half. It must be all the sweating I’ve been doing,” Martha said cryptically. “Anyway, does it involve Henry?”
“Yuck. Don’t mention his name in my presence.”
“What happened?”
“I’ve given up men for Lent. Come on, guess.”
“Your job?”
“No. Sit down, Martha. Are you ready for this?”
“I’m on pins and needles. Tell me!”
“Martha,” Judy said seriously, her eyes slanted for effect, “you can freeze bananas!”
“Oh, Judy,” Martha groaned. “I was expecting something thrilling.”
“This is thrilling! Marty, they taste just like Good Humor bars. No kidding! They’re terrific. Frozen bananas—well, frozen half bananas—kept me going all week. Even during the Henry crisis.”
“What happened with him? I thought you two were engaged or something by now.”
“Hardly. As I said, I’ve given up on men. All of them. You know,” she said, unwrapping a stick of sugarless gum and popping it into her mouth, “I’ve come to believe that there are a lot of traits that are genetic in men. I think they’re sex-linked, like baldness.”
“Like?”
“Like a fear of the Lord & Taylor Junior Department. Or an inability to make orange juice from a can. Those were just the minor irritations, though. Like a rash. The real problem was a basic incompatibility. I could never love a man whose greatest ambition in life is to see Tony Orlando in person.”
“Well, there’s no such thing as Prince Charming, that’s for sure,” Martha said ruefully.
“Aha.” Judy leaned forward, interested, “Sounds like the plot is thickening.”
“Yes, like cement. Eddie called me this morning.”
“Oh,” Judy said knowingly.
“While I was in bed with Larry.”
“Ooh. My, my, what a colorful life we’re leading.”
“Yes, and we’re getting an ulcer over it. I’m seeing Eddie tonight, after the meeting. I haven’t seen him since the night I learned that honesty is not necessarily the best policy.”
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” interrupted the familiar voice. “Welcome to Thin, Incorporated.”
“Here we go again,” Judy whispered. “Let’s hear it for motherhood, apple pie, and starvation. The great American values.”
“Tonight, I’d like to talk to you about eggs.”
“Judy, I don’t feel too well. Will you come to the ladies’ room with me?”
Judy glanced over at Martha, concerned over her sudden change in mood. “Sure. You look a little pale.”
“And at only seventy-five calories apiece, they’re one of your best calorie buys!” Irma Gold called after them as they slunk out of the cafeteria.
Martha found the starkness of the white-tile ladies’ room calming. There was something comforting about the predictability of bathrooms: the uniformity of the porcelain sinks, all lined up in a row; the shining metal of paper towel dispensers; the thoughtfulness and concern of tampon machines and tiny bars of Ivory soap, coated with minuscule dried bubbles.
“Are you okay?” Judy asked anxiously. “Do you feel sick?”
“No. Just dizzy.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Judy gasped, clutching the sink.
“God, no.” Martha nervously wrapped a strand of hair around her finger. “I’m just scared. Really scared.”
“Why? Is something wrong? Oh. I see. It’s because you’re seeing Eddie tonight.”
Martha nodded and looked at Judy pleadingly. There was a twinge of panic in her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of. It’s not as if it was a first date or anything.” She forced a laugh, then looked directly into the mirror. “Judy,” she said abruptly, “do I look different?”
Judy studied her carefully. “Hmmm. Well, you’re wearing a yellow shirt. You didn’t used to wear colors like that, not when I first met you. You’re wearing make-up. As Irma Gold would probably say, ‘A little blush never hurt.’ And you look a lot thinner than when I first met you. But we all do. Except Blanca. She looks fatter.”
Martha smiled grimly. “You know, it used to be— even just a few weeks ago—that every time I looked in the mirror, I was surprised to see someone looking back at me. I would always give a little start, as if someone had jumped out at me. I guess I felt invisible, or like I wasn’t really there. But lately, Judy, it’s been different. I can’t really explain it, but I’m no longer surprised to see a face in the mirror. I even recognize myself, you know? I mean, if I passed myself on the street, I think I would actually recognize myself.” Martha turned a soft shade of pink. “I guess I’m not making any sense, am I?” she apologized.
“Look, you’re just a bit edgy because you’re seeing Eddie tonight. Are you afraid you’ll start arguing?”
Martha shook her head forlornly. “No. I’m afraid I’ll turn back into the old Martha.” She turned her back on the mirror and leaned against the sink. “I miss him, Judy. I know he’s got a lot of faults, and I suppose we’ve started growing apart, and sometimes I even hate him. But I still think about him a lot. Everything reminds me of him.”
“That’s understandable, Marty. You two were together for three whole years.”
“I know,” Martha said blankly.
“Mar, what’s going on with Larry these days?” Judy asked cautiously,
“Oh, not much. He’s fallen in love with me, and he wants me to move in with him. That’s all.”
“Hmmm. I can see the problem. Wait a minute! This is a problem? I wish I had two guys falling all over me!”
Martha laughed. “It sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not. I don’t want to hurt Larry, that’s for sure.”
“And Eddie?”
“I have this terrible feeling that Edward Magill will always be able to take care of himself, no matter what.”
“And you?”
“Yes, that leaves me. To be quite honest, Jude, I don’t know what I want. I think that’s probably why I’m afraid of seeing Eddie.” She stared at her shoes. “Things were so comfortable before.”
There was a long pause, accompanied by the steady dripping of one of the faucets.
“Do you think you two might get back together?” Judy asked timidly.
Martha turned back to the mirror and searched her own face. “I don’t know, Judy. I really just don’t know. Things were going so smoothly before he called. Talking to him just threw everything up in the air again.
“But Eddie’s not the only turbulence in my life,” Martha sighed. “I have some other pretty important news too.”
“What?”
“Which do you want first, the good news or the bad news?”
“The bad. Let’s get it over with.”
Martha recounted her meeting with Sylvia Akins.
“That’s terrible, Marty. Jesus, I hope your good news compensates for such an awful experience.”
“It does,” Martha said gleefully. “I got a job at World Air!”
“Fantastic! What department?”
“I’ll be in International, so we won’t be working together.”
“But we can meet in the company cafeteria for lunch sometimes. It has a salad bar that’s simply magnificent. When are you going to start?”
“I’m not sure. I might stay at AmFoods for a few more weeks and the position at World Air may not begin for a while. I still have some business to finish up at AmFoods.”
“
Well, I can’t wait. Congratulations, Marty. I’m so happy for you! You’ll have to tell Irma Gold about your new job. I’m sure she’ll find a way to take full credit for increasing your confidence and being responsible for your upward mobility. She might even demand a percentage of your new salary.”
“Good old Irma. I wouldn’t put it past her.”
Despite Martha’s temporary euphoria, Judy watched the rain cloud reappear on her friend’s face. Even the thrill of a new job couldn’t ease the pain of confronting an old lover.
“Let’s go back to the meeting,” Judy suggested gently. “At least it’ll take your mind off all this for a while.”
“All right. Irma Gold does have a way of putting things into their proper perspective. Life seems much easier when eggs become the highest priority.”
“Yup,” Judy agreed. “And she has such a simple philosophy: ‘you are what you eat.’”
* * * *
How many weeks had it been since Martha stood in the doorway of Sylvester’s waiting for Larry on the evening of their first date? Martha wondered as she pushed against the glass door of the Riverside Coffee Shop, oblivious to the red decal that encouraged her to Pull and to Drink Coca-Cola. It had been overcast that night; tonight was clear and starry. She had mingled with the almost Beautiful People that night, yet here at the Riverside, she sashayed past nursing students and orderlies whose idea of high fashion was a spit shine on their white shoes. Sylvester’s strove for elegance and simplicity with painful self-consciousness, while the Riverside displayed a mural-size map of the Greek islands with pride. There were differences, great differences. But the feeling of this night was the same: the incongruity of dread mixed with hopeful anticipation.
Martha secured a table in the back corner, next to the kitchen. This strategic location would keep Martha and Eddie away from public view in case of tension or arguments or violence, while the swinging door, with the accompanying parade of Greek waiters, offered a diversion that could prove useful.
Martha jumped as someone stopped at her table, but to her relief, it was only a waiter. He offered a red plastic menu, mumbling an incomprehensible statement about today’s special.
Acute tension, Martha realized, is the best appetite-depressant. For all the lovely laminated photographs of cheese omelets, shish kebab, and apple pie à la mode that called to her from the menu, her stomach urged her to stick to the simpler things in life. Martha was contemplating the sagacity of investing in Diet Pepsi stock when she heard, “Hey, Martha!”
This, she thought, is it.
“I almost didn’t see you, hidden away in the corner.” Eddie slid into the seat opposite her. Martha hoped the map of Greece provided an appropriate background to the Mona Lisa pose she was trying to adopt.
Eddie leaned back against the red plastic and beamed. “You look great, Martha. Really terrific. When you haven’t seen a person for a while, you can look at them objectively, you know?”
Martha smiled politely. “Thank you.”
“So. How’s everything going?”
“Fine, thanks. And you?”
“Great. Just great. I told you on the phone that I’m on a new account now, right? Yeah, well this is something really hot. It’s so hot that I can’t even tell you about it. But I can tell you one thing: it’s gonna revolutionize the toilet paper business!”
“Hmmm,” Martha said agreeably. “That’ll be something we can all look forward to.”
“Are you ready to order?” the waiter interrupted, his pencil poised dramatically over a pad of paper.
“I’ll just have a Diet Pepsi,” Martha said.
“No Diet Pepsi. Tab.”
“Tab.”
“I’ll have the turkey club, with a side of fries, and a Coke.” Eddie turned back to Martha. “You still on that diet?”
Martha bristled. “Yes,” she said, defensively. “Yes, I aim.” Her voice sounded strangely high-pitched.
Eddie simply nodded. “Hey, guess what? I ran into Betsy the other day, outside of Bloomingdale’s.”
“Oh, really? She didn’t mention it to me.”
“You know how Betsy is,” he chuckled. “She’s always rushing around in eight different directions. She probably just forgot.” He paused. “It was nice to see her again. It reminded me of you, you know? It made me think of all the little inside jokes we have about her.”
“Had.”
“What?”
“Had. All the little inside jokes we had about Betsy. We don’t, anymore.” The waiter sailed by with two frosted plastic tumblers balanced on a tray.
“Tab,” he announced triumphantly, placing it before Eddie. “Coke.”
Martha slid the drinks into their proper positions with the earnestness of a chess player setting up for checkmate. She waited for Eddie’s move.
“Gee, Mart, you make it sound so final. What about all those years we spent together? What about us? Do you really expect me to believe that you just stopped loving me all of a sudden?”
Martha stared at the little silver ring of water that her glass had left on the table. There were no answers to those questions, she realized. There was nothing she could say.
“You said on the phone that we still had a lot to talk about. What were you thinking of?”
“Aw, Mart, don’t be like this. Don’t be so cold. I just wanted to see you. It’s been such a long time. How the hell are you, anyway?”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good. How’s your job?”
“It’s fine.”
“How’s your family?”
“Fine.”
“How’s Lisa?”
Martha shrugged her shoulders. “Everything is pretty much the same. My job is okay. My family is okay. Betsy and Lisa are okay.” She hated the way she sounded, so guarded, so stiff. Surely one little anecdote wouldn’t hurt, loosening up just a bit couldn’t be dangerous...
“Lisa has a new boyfriend,” she said offhandedly. “He used to be a Moonie.”
Eddie leaned forward and his eyes grew round. “You’re kidding! Is he a real nut? God, Lisa with a Moonie? Betsy, I would expect. But Lisa?”
“He’s a real character.” Martha suddenly grew animated. “He has all kind of strange idiosyncrasies. But it’s fascinating to hear him talk about his Moonie days.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Are you ready for this? He’s in the banking trainee program with Lisa!”
“No! What a scream!”
“You’ve got to meet this guy...” and she stopped. “Um, maybe you’ll run into Lisa and the Moonie in front of Bloomingdale’s one day, too.” Martha stiffened, feigning interest in the straw wrapper.
“Or maybe I could come over sometime when he’s at the apartment,” Eddie suggested cautiously.
Martha shook her head. “No,” she said meekly. Immediately a disturbing thought crept into her mind: her lips say no, but her eyes say yes. “No, Eddie.”
“C’mon, Martha. You know I miss the hell out of you.”
“What about your thin girl friend?” she asked dryly, but without the rancor she had intended.
“Hey. Don’t you forget that I’ve loved you all along. I loved you when you were fat.”
“I’m still fat,” she answered defiantly.
“No, you’re not. You look great.”
“I’ve only lost about eighteen pounds. I don’t look all that different.”
“Hey, you always looked good to me.”
Martha opened her mouth, but arguing didn’t seem worth the energy it would require. She saw the waiter coming with Eddie’s lovely concoction of mayonnaise and potato chips and French fries. Irma Gold would have suffered cardiac arrest at the mere sight of it.
“Want a French fry? Or some of my sandwich? Here, take one piece of it. Just one quarter. You’ll starve if you don’t eat dinner.” At her refusal, Eddie tackled his thick, drippy sandwich.
“Are you still seeing that guy?” he asked suddenly.
&
nbsp; Another question with no answer. Heads, you lose; tails, you lose. When in doubt, evade the issue. “What business is it of yours?”
Eddie sighed and put down his sandwich. He neatly licked the mayonnaise off his fingers and said, “You’re still angry, aren’t you?”
Martha lowered her head and concentrated on counting the bubbles on the surface of her soda. “No, I’m not angry. It’s all behind us, now.”
“Come on, Martha.” Eddie’s tone was pleading. “Every couple has fights. You don’t really think it’s all over between us, do you? Hey, look, I don’t mind that you went out with that other guy. It’s okay, just as long as you forget about all that. I’m willing to forgive you, and after a while, things will go back to the way they used to be.”
Forgive. Forgive and forget. He would forgive, she would forgive. And things would be the way they used to be. It all seemed so jumbled up, so incomprehensible. But she could feel herself slipping.
“I didn’t like things the way they used to be.” Martha wasn’t sure if she just thought it, or if she actually said it aloud.
“So what was this guy like, Mart?”
She looked up, startled. “What? Do you really want to know?”
“Yeah. I do. Betsy said he was pretty nice. He works in a drugstore, right?”
“He’s a pharmacist.”
“Oh, right. And she said he used to play the clarinet?”
“The piano. He was a concert pianist. He made his debut... oh, never mind.”
“No, I’m interested. Really. You know we never had any secrets from each other before.”
“Oh, no?” Martha glowered at Eddie.
“Come on, baby.” Eddie slid out of his seat and sat down next to Martha. “So we’ve had a few differences. You had a little fling. I had a little fling. But now it’s all over.”
“Eddie, mine isn’t over.”
He took her hand and kissed it gently. “Then you’ll make it be over,” he said softly.
He continued to hold her hand. Martha knew she should claim it and return it to its proper place, wrapped around her glass of Tab. But it felt so right in Eddie’s hand. So familiar. It would have felt odd to sit with him and not touch. Being together was too comfortable.
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