Queen of Babble in the Big City Read Online Free PDF Page A

waistline that I have to wait to fade before I let Luke see me naked after I’ve peeled them off.
    But that’s only because I started eating bread again when I was in France, and I gained back a little of the weight I lost over the summer! Just a little. Like fifteen pounds or so.
    Oh, God. Shari’s right!
    “Look,” Shari says, apparently noticing my stricken expression. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t move in with him, Lizzie. I’m just saying you might want to cool it on the wedding-planning thing. Your wedding, anyway. With Luke.”
    I reach up to wipe the tears from my eyes. “If the next words out of your mouth are that he won’t buy the cow if he can get the milk for free,” I say bitterly, “I will seriously vomit.”
    “Of course I’m not going to say that,” Shari says. “Just take things one day at a time, okay? And don’t be afraid to be yourself in front of him. Because if he doesn’t love the real you, he’s not Prince Charming after all.”
    I can’t help gaping at her a little. Because, really. It’s like she’s a mind reader.
    “How,” I ask tearfully, “did you get so smart?”
    “I majored in psych,” Shari said. “Remember?”
    I nod. Her new job is counseling women at a nonprofit program that helps victims of domestic abuse find alternative housing, obtain orders of protection, and secure public benefits such as food stamps and child support. It’s not a high-paying job, salarywise. But what Shari doesn’t receive in financial compensation, she’ll make up for in the knowledge that she is saving lives, and helping people—especially women—to attain better existences for themselves and their children.
    Although if you think about it, those of us in the fashion industry do the same thing. We don’t save lives, necessarily. But we help make lives better, in our own small way. It’s like the song says…young girls, they do get weary, wearing that same old shaggy dress.
    It’s our job to get them into a new one (or a refurbished old one), so they can feel a little bit better about themselves.
    “Look,” Shari says. “The truth is…I don’t know. I’m kind ofbummed. I was really looking forward to us getting a place together. I even thought about how much fun it was going to be thrifting for old furniture and then fixing it up. Or borrowing a car and going to IKEA in New Jersey to buy a bunch of stuff. Now I’m going to have to live with Chaz’s hand-me-down furniture from his family’s law offices here in town.”
    I have to laugh. I’ve seen the elaborate gold-trimmed couches in Chaz’s living room—the one with the wood floor that gently slopes south, and the windows with the folding gates over them because they look out over a fire escape…the same windows from which Shari saw Julio’s dad go on his stabbing spree.
    “I’ll come over and see what I can do about the couches,” I say. “I have a bunch of bolts of material I got when So-Fro Fabrics closed down. When my mom ships my boxes to me, I can make a slipcover for you. And some curtains,” I add. “So you won’t have to see any more stabbings.”
    “That’d be nice,” Shari says, with a sigh. “Well. Here.” She slides her copy of the Village Voice toward me. “You’re going to need this.”
    I look down at it blankly. “Why? If Luke and I already have a place?”
    “To find a job, dufus,” Shari says. “Or is Luke going to support your thrifting habit as well as provide your housing?”
    “Oh.” I let out a tiny laugh. “Yeah. Thanks.”
    And I flip to the jobs section of the classifieds……just as a dwarf with a long, Gandalf-like staff opens the door to Honey’s, ambles up to our table, looks at us, then turns around and leaves, all without uttering a word.
    Both Shari and I glance at the bartender. She doesn’t appear to have noticed the dwarf. Shari and I look back each other.
    “This town,” I say, “is very weird.”
    “Tell me about it,” Shari says.

Lizzie