The Age of Miracles Read Free Page B

stay in town tonight and go out there tomorrow morning. The wedding is in the afternoon. Everything’s done. The caterer is taking care of everything, and Donna is there to oversee him.”
    â€œDonna?”
    â€œThe bride’s mother.”
    â€œAnd I’m your date.”
    â€œIf you don’t mind. I thought we’d go downtown and hear jazz tonight. There’s a good group playing at the Meridien.”
    My antennae were going up, up, up. This was turning into a minefield. I had starved myself for two weeks to show off for his ex-wife and tiptoe around this minefield? I could have been in New Orleans with my cousins. I could have been in New York City seeing the American Ballet Theatre. I could have been in San Francisco visiting Lydia. I could have gone to Belize to go scuba-diving. I could have driven to the Grand Canyon.
    â€œI can’t wait to see the country house,” I said. “Since you’ve told me so much about it.” But that was a thrill postponed. We went first to his town house.
    He showed me to my room. A Laura Ashley special. Enough chintz to start an empire. So many ruffles, so many little oblong mirrors and dainty painted chairs.
    â€œYou want me to sleep in here?” I asked. “Where do you sleep?”
    â€œYou can sleep wherever you like. I just thought you’d like your own room. Would you like to see the other ones? To see if there is one you might like better?”
    Always play your own game, my old man had taught me. Never play someone else’s game. “The room’s fine. I mean, aren’t you going to sleep with me? I’m a grown woman, Carter. I didn’t come down here to dress up like a shepherdess and let you show me off to your friends. I thought you wanted to make love to me. What was all that talk on the phone? I mean, what are we doing here?” I sat back on the chintz bed. It was not the sort of atmosphere in which a fifty-year-old woman can feel sexy, but I tried.
    â€œI wanted to take you to dinner first. Then to hear some jazz.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with now? We are alone, aren’t we?”
    â€œNow?” He stood very still. I could see the receding hairline and the bags under his eyes and there was no spark, no tinder, sulfur, or electricity.
    â€œNever mind,” I said. “Well, if you’ll leave me, I’ll unpack. I wouldn’t want my wedding clothes to be wrinkled.”
    â€œIf you really want to…”
    â€œNever mind. I just wanted to know what was going on. Go on, I’ll unpack and freshen up and we can go out to dinner.”
    â€œI have reservations at the club at eight.”
    â€œFine. I’ll be ready.”
    I patted him on the arm and he turned and left the room. I opened the suitcases and hung up the dress and suit. I took a bath and put on a black silk Donna Karan with small pearl earrings and went downstairs and waited in the overstuffed living room. In a while he joined me and we went out and had dinner and he got drunk and then we heard some jazz and he got drunker and then we went home and he got into the chintz-covered bed with me and made me come with his fingers. I’ll say this for him, he lived up to my expectations in that corner. He knew how to use his fingers. In maybe two minutes he made me have an incredible orgasm and he had done it with his fingers. “I can’t make love,” he moaned into my shoulder after it was over. “I can’t desire women I admire. I can only desire young girls that I can’t stand to talk to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said. “Go to sleep. Go on to sleep.”
    I woke up in a really good mood. An orgasm is an orgasm and it’s a hell of a lot better than Xanax. By nine o’clock we were in the Lincoln headed for the country house. I had one suitcase in the trunk. The one with the white suit and extremely high platform