The Breakup Read Online Free Page A

the female rapper sex music— once I borrowed his van and when I turned
     the key in the ignition, hip-hop music boomed at full blast: “I like it hard and thick and I like to lick/I like it in my
     butt and I like to strut . . .” At first I thought it was the radio, then I realized it was a CD. I found the case under the
     seat. It showed three busty girls in sequinned thongs. I couldn’t believe Roger was listening to this kind of music. He thought
     Snoop Doggy Dog was a cartoon character. I guess I should have paid attention.
    ’Til next time,
    V
January 15
    In my ongoing effort to appear normal, I agreed to go with Roger to Starbucks last night, to meet Wade and Melanie Rosen,
     a couple I’ve known for years and always enjoy, but rarely see since they started raising race horses two years ago. Wade
     is a lovable panda,and Mel has a bizarre sense of humor—she once joked about starting a company that did theme funerals. “You know, we could
     do a luau funeral. Or a Mexican fiesta funeral. Our slogan would be, ‘We put the
fun
in
funerals.’
Get it?”
    After eleven (childless, I feel compelled to point out) years of marriage, Mel and Wade are still wildly in love. If I didn’t
     like them so much, I’d hate them. In fact, I might kill them. After I killed Lynette Kohl-Chase. “Hey! Have you checked out
     Paradise Suites?” Mel asked, dipping a tongue into her latte. My throat tightened. As far as the Rosens were concerned, Roger
     and I were stable and happy, and I wasn’t about to disabuse them of that notion.
    “No! Tell us!” I said, faking interest. This couple’s vigorous sex life was the last thing I wanted to talk about.
    “Oh! You guys! You’ve got to try this place,” Wade chimed in. He was stroking his wife’s curly brown hair. “Mirrors everywhere.
     Free dirty movies. And a hot tub to die for. Shaped like a heart.”
    “So’s the bed. A great big heart!” Melanie exclaimed. “What a weekend! I think I lost ten pounds from all the exercise!”
    Wade ran a hand over his wife’s plump belly. “You’re gorgeous, with or without the ten pounds.”
    Melanie tittered. “I may be chubby, but I can sure please my hubby!” The next thing you know, they’re making out. I wanted
     to cry. Here I am, sitting therewith my future former husband, while this sweet, rotund, deliriously happy couple necked like teenagers. They weren’t just
     lovers, they were best friends. I pictured them sitting on twin rocking chairs on the nursing home porch. She was his little
     hotsy-totsy. I WANTED TO BE SOMEONE’S HOTSY TOTSY, DAMN IT! Wade grabbed his wife’s cheek and said, “Isn’t she a doll? Don’t
     you want to eat her up?”
    “Actually, we should probably leave that task to you, Wade,” Roger said, droll as ever. I despised him.
    As we were leaving I thought I saw someone watching me from the corner table. Ben Murphy. He smiled brightly and waved. I
     waved back, perhaps a bit too wistfully. Then I felt something slide down my pant leg. I looked down. It was black, it was
     soft. At first I thought, absurdly, Oh! It’s a black kitten. A black kitten was hiding in my pants leg! Then I realized it
     wasn’t a kitten, it was my bunched-up black underwear, the underwear I wore yesterday, the underwear I forgot to disengage
     from my pants when I put them on again this morning. I quickly scooped up the panties and shoved them in my bag. Ben didn’t
     notice. Wade and Melanie didn’t notice. But Roger noticed. He rolled his eyes and shook his head as if to say, “You poor,
     pathetic slob.” And even if he wasn’t thinking it, I was.
    ’Til next time,
    V
January 16
    The Prozac must finally be taking effect, because I’m feeling strangely detached from everyone and everything. When I returned
     home from the health club last night, I found Roger watching the basketball game. Dishes were stacked in the sink, and Pete—
     who should have been in bed—was sitting on the kitchen floor