Man Camp Read Online Free Page A

when all I really need is a mouse!” Martha shakes her head. “Why don’t you come over for a nightcap? I’m meeting Jesse at my apartment in a half hour. He’s going to help me put up a shelf.”
    “Put up a shelf?” Lucy says. Her tone implies the rest: Your
brother? Carpentry? Are you kidding?
    “Tread lightly, Luce. We’re talking about my gene pool.”
    “I just had no idea he was even remotely handy.”
    “Well, I’ll have to let you know tomorrow if you’re going to pass up a ringside seat.”
    “Hey,” Lucy says, as Martha gets ready to leave, “let’s not forget the purpose of our little meal tonight.”
    “To punish me for not having a date?”
    “Not punish, Martha. I’m on your side. Can’t we at least try to discuss why you’ve been such a hermit lately?”
    Martha shrugs. “I’ve been busy,” she says, sinking back into the chair and wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself. “I don’t know, Luce, it feels too hard. Besides, I was dating in January. Sort of.”
    “FirstDates don’t count.”
    Martha shrugs again.
    “Who was the last guy you went out on a
real
date with?”
    “Simon Hodges.”
    “The political historian who nearly bored you to death? That was months ago.”
    “What can I say? Simon was the straw that broke this camel’s back. I don’t even know why. He didn’t do anything terrible, but part of me gave up after him.”
    “Gave up what?”
    “All hope?” Martha forces out an unconvincing laugh.
    “Oh, Martha. I know it’s hard,” Lucy says. “But maybe you could pretend that every date you go on is a story you can tell me later. The bad ones will be hilarious and, eventually, there’ll be a good one. I was about to give up when I met Adam, remember?”
    Martha makes an effort to smile, but it fades almost immediately. “I just wish my mother felt the same way.”
    “What did she do this time?”
    “Nothing, really. Her attitude has shifted, though.” Martha fills her mug with tea. “After a lifetime of telling me that no man is good enough—this one’s forehead slopes, that one doesn’t make enough money, he drinks too much, and so on—suddenly Mom’s panicking. She used to worry that I’d settle for someone beneath me. Now she’s worried that no one will settle for
me.
”
    “That’s crazy.”
    “Yesterday she called to tell me that I shouldn’t feel like I’ve totally missed my chance at marriage. ‘There are still widowers,’ she said.”
    “No!”
    “I swear, Luce, if I brought home a Neanderthal tomorrow, my mother would tell me how charming knuckle-dragging can be.”
    Lucy pictures Martha’s mother, Betsy, in action. An inveterate hostess, Betsy approaches motherhood with the detached politeness of a flight attendant. She treats her daughter like a first-class passenger, making sure she’s comfortable and well fed, and always keeps the conversation breezy.
    “She actually suggested that I go out with Stanley.”
    “As in the neighbor’s son who thinks he’s writing the Great American Novel and still lives at home at the age of forty?” Lucy asks. “
That
Stanley?”
    “That Stanley.”
    Lucy takes off her glasses and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but if there’s one thing that your mother’s good for, it’s making me feel slightly better about my own.”
    “I feel exactly the same way about your mom.” Martha laughs. “Virginia scares the hell out of me.”
    “My mom
is
scary,” Lucy says, “but at least she’s still in the no-man-is-good-enough-for-me camp. Of course, that includes Adam.” Lucy sighs. “I get so tired of her trashing him. It’s as if she wants me to doubt him.”
    “She probably does. That way you depend on her more, right?”
    “Exactly. But as much as I try to ignore her, what she says seeps into my head. Then, when Adam does something annoying, I hear her voice coming out of my mouth.”
    “Oh God. The dreaded realization that you’re turning