forgets.â
âIâm afraid to tell you.â She felt like a freak. Why not admit the truth? She trusted her friends. âI havenât had sex in five years,â Gara said. When the words came out and she had to listen to them, she wanted to cry.
âFive years?â Felicity gasped. âYouâre kidding! Five
years?
â
Kathryn did not gasp. She had not had sex in longer than that; but, of course,
she
didnât care.
Gara shrugged. The time had gone by fast and she had been occupied with much more serious things. Every day she remembered how lucky she was to be alive.
âYou havenât been in mourning all this time for that ex-husband of yours?â Kathryn asked sternly.
âNo,â Gara said, truthfully. âBut I was busy. Breast cancer is very time-consuming.â
âBut youâre well now,â Felicity said.
âAnd itâs time to find you a boyfriend,â Kathryn said. âSomeone attractive and intelligent, with a sense of humor, with a nice summer house . . .â
âI
have
a nice summer house.â Her little place on the beach in Amagansett had been part of her divorce settlement. She had bought Carl out.
âYouâre not like me, you donât need anything from a man,â Felicity said. âYou have a great deal to offer in a relationship. Not all men want twenty-three-year-olds.â
âYou should take an ad in the personals,â Kathryn said.
âFifty-five-year-old woman with one tit wants to get fucked,â Gara said dryly.
She watched as they screamed with laughter. Felicity was doubled over, tears coming out of her eyes. Gara knew their laughter was partly in shock at her forthrightness, and partly in admiration for her spirit. She had chosen to keep her cancer an almost complete secret, even from her patients, and she knew the few friends she had told wouldnât tell. They didnât understand her secrecyâafter all, she had survivedâbut they honored it. She approached her situation with unexpected humor, and her friends looked upon this with awe.
But behind the laughter was her secret realization that, without even knowing how it had happened, she had suddenly turned around to discover that she had become one of those women whoâd already had her life. As a young girl sheâd seen them: the widows, the mutilated, the card players. They seemed to be at the end of their lives as women, a destiny too far away to imagine. Now, except for her career, this dwindling away into invisibility did not seem so far away anymore. But it was still incredibly foreign and strange, and it felt much too soon.
âWhat are you laughing about?â Eve demanded, sailing up to their table like the actress she was and glancing around to see if there was anybody in the restaurant she wanted to sit closer to. Her red hair was the color of fire, and she was wearing feather earrings and had a feather pinned in her hair, and her lipstick was almost black.
âHi, Eve,â Kathryn gasped, pulling herself together.
âAnybody here?â Eve asked. She pulled out a chair and sat down. âNot so lively tonight.â
âItâs still early,â Gara said.
The waiter came over and Eve ordered a beer. âSo howâs Russell?â she asked Felicity.
âI have to call him,â Felicity said, making a face. She pulled the cell phone out of her bag and dialed. âDonât sound like youâre having too much fun.â Her voice changed, became sweet, soft, and subservient. âHi, Slugger.â
âGreat name for a guy who hits you,â Eve whispered.
âWeâre here at Yellowbird,â Felicity said into the phone. âGara and Kathryn and Eve. Thatâs all. Howâs the game? Uh-huh. No, I wonât be late. Okay. No. Okay.â She clicked off. âYeech,â she said.
âSuch love,â Eve said.
They ordered grilled chicken and