介绍:
Downtown Babes Meet Old
Greenwich Gals
The pilgrimage to the newly suburbanized friend is one that most
Manhattan women have made, and few truly enjoyed. In fact, most
come back to the city in an emotional state somewhere between
giddy and destroyed. Here follows one such tale.
Jolie Bernard used to be an agent who handled rock bands at
International Creative Management. Five years ago, when she
wasn't stomping the globe in her cowboy boots, hanging out with
rock stars and sometimes sleeping with them, she hved in New
York, in a one-bedroom apartment decorated with black leather
couches and a giant stereo system. She had long blond hair and a
tight little body with big tits, and when she came home she had a
million messages on her answering machine, and when she went
out, she had money and drugs in her purse. She was kind of famous.
And then something happened. No one thought it would, but it
did, which just goes to show that you can never tell about these
things. She turned thirty-five and she met this investment banker
who worked for Salomon Brothers, and before you knew it, they
were married, she was pregnant, and they were moving to
Greenwich.
"Nothing will change," she said. "We'll still get together all the
time and you can come to visit us and we'll have barbecues in the
summer."
We all said, Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Two years went by. We heard she'd had one rug rat, and then
another. We could never remember their names or if they were boys
or girls.
"Hey, how's Jolie?" I would ask Miranda, who was at one time
Jolie's best friend.
"Dunno," Miranda would say. "Every time I call her, she can't
talk. The sprinkler man is coming, or she caught the nanny smoking
pot in the laundry room, or one of the kids is screaming."
"Horrible. Just horrible," we would say, and then we would
forget about it.
And then, a month ago, the inevitable happened: Little white
invitations bordered with tiny purple flowers arrived, summoning
four of Jolie's city friends to a bridal shower she was hosting at her
house. It was being held on a Saturday at one P.M.—only, as
Miranda pointed out, the most inconvenient time and the last thing
you want to be doing with your Saturday afternoon. Schlepping to
Connecticut.
"Jolie called and begged me," Miranda said. "She said she
wanted some of her city friends to come so it wouldn't be too
boring."
"The kiss of death," I said.
Still, the four women did agree to go—Miranda, thirty-two, a
cable exec; Sarah, thirty-eight, who ran her own PR company;
Carrie, thirty-four, some sort of journalist; and Belle, thiry-four, a
banker and the only married woman of the group.
OLD GREENWICH, NEW ENEMIES
Of course, Saturday was the most beautiful day of the year so far.
Sunny, seventy degrees. When they met up at Grand
having to be stuck inside Jolie's house on the most beautiful day of
the year, even though, being dyed-in-the-wool city dwellers, none of
them ever went outside if they could possibly avoid it.
The trouble began on the train. As usual, Carrie had gone to bed
at four in the morning, and she was terribly hung over and kept
thinking she was going to puke. Belle got into an argument with the
woman in front of her, whose kid kept sticking its head over the top
of the seat and sticking his tongue out at her.
Then Sarah revealed that Jolie was in A. A.—had been for three
months—which meant there might not be cocktails at the shower.
Carrie and Miranda immediately decided they would get off the
train at the next stop and go back to the city, but Belle and Sarah
wouldn't let them; and then Sarah told Carrie that she should
probably join A. A. herself.
The train stopped in Old Greenwich, and the four women
crammed into the back seat of a white and green cab.
"Why are we doing this?" Sarah asked.
"Because we have to," Carrie said.
"They just better not have any trendy gardening tools lying
around," said Miranda. "If I see gardening tools, I'm going to
scream."
"If I see kids, I'm going to scream."
"Look. Grass. Trees. Breathe in the aroma of freshly mown
grass," said Carrie, who had mysteriously begun to feel better.
Everyone looked at her suspiciously.
The cab pulled up in front of a white, Colonial-style house whose
value had obviously been increased by the addition of a pointy slate
roof and balconies off the second floor. The lawn was very green,
and the trees that dotted the yard had borders of pink flowers around
their bases.
"Oh, what a cute puppy," Carrie said, as a golden retriever raced
barking across the lawn. But as the dog reached the edge of the yard,
it was suddenly jerked back, as if yanked by
Miranda lit up a blue Dunhill. "Invisible electric fencing," she
said. "They all have it. And I bet you anything we're going to have
to hear about it."
For a moment, the four women stood in the driveway, staring at
the dog, who was now sitting, subdued but valiantly wagging its
tail, in the middle of the yard.
"Can we go back to the city now, please?" Sarah asked.
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