Jason Says No
Wandy and Jason
Wendy tallied the water spots on her glass at the restaurant, adjusting her silverware to mirror Julia's arrangement. She had chosen her outfit with care for this lunch, aware that she was the only woman at the table who had left her job to become a stay-at-home wife after marriage. This old anxiety, subdued by years of work, had resurfaced, raw and instinctive, due to her newly found solitude.
She could have opted for the reliable navy dress, but she desired to convey a sense of relaxation. So, she chose linen instead, off-white, charmingly wrinkled, embodying a casual elegance that was pricier than she cared to acknowledge.
Julia, with her baby-pink blazer and perfect blunt cut, was already on her second mimosa. The other two, Rachel and Miriam, former college suite-mates, now a lawyer and a museum person, tried to keep up. Still, Julia was always several drinks and several conversational moves ahead.
"I still can’t believe you’re getting married," Rachel said, propping her sunglasses on her head like a periscope. "I feel like we should all be at a keg party, not this place."
"We’re adults now," Julia said, then made a gagging face and rolled her eyes at Wendy. "That’s why we’re having this little intervention. If you’re going to be a grown-up wife, you need at least one more weekend of abject fun, humiliation, and poor choices."
Wendy smiled, kept the smile in place while she parsed the emotional loading in Julia’s words. They all had a tendency to talk about adulthood like it was a tragic, irreversible diagnosis.
"I can still drink more than you," Miriam declared, poking her fork into the bowl of avocado toast. "And with Wendy not working anymore, she's become the most dangerous. She has nothing to lose."
"Except her dignity," Julia said, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I talked to my friend who works at the hotel. They’ll give us a top-floor suite and comp the first bottle."
Wendy blinked. "Wait, this is what?"