Uptown Girl. Olivia Goldsmith

here. I picked up your mail.’

      Kate sighed. There were no separate mailboxes for the four tenants of their brownstone and mail was left on a radiator in the vestibule. She had been in such a hurry she had forgotten to check for hers, and punishment for this tiny sin was a New Yorker Magazine completely ruined and the requirement to show fake gratitude to Max. ‘Thanks again,’ Kate said. ‘Are you being so nice to me because you wanted to borrow a bottle of Absolut?’

      ‘No, I try not to rustle booze until it’s Absolut necessary.’

      Kate gave him an obligatory smile. ‘Well, hey, I’ve got to go. Elliot and Brice won’t wait.’ Max shrugged, got up and ambled over to the door. Perhaps he had only been fishing for an invite to join them. Brice’s cooking was legendary. Whatever. At last she saw his back and closed the door. She took the mail he had brought over to the wastepaper basket beside her desk. She tried to smooth out the New Yorker, picked up a catalogue from Sak’s, tore it in half and threw it into the basket before it could tempt her, filed a bill from Con Ed next to her checkbook and threw away junk mail that informed her that Ket Jemson had just won One Million Dollars! More junk mail into the basket. Then, at the bottom of the small pile, she found an almost square envelope addressed to her in gold calligraphy. Oh my God, she thought, has Bina jumped the gun and sent out wedding invitations before the proposal?

      She turned the ominous communiqué over and saw Mr and Mrs Tromboli’s address written across the back. Kate’s hands began to tremble. She tore open the envelope and accidentally tore off the corner of the enclosed pasteboard. She pulled out the inevitable: an invitation to the wedding of Patricia (Bunny) Marie Tromboli to Arnold S. Beckmen. For a moment, Kate felt dizzy. How could this have happened? What had Bina been saying earlier about that Brooklyn bartender who had broken Bunny’s heart? Now Kate felt her own heart quiver. With Bina engaged and Bunny about to get married, she would be the very last of her old friends to be single. When they started having children, she would really be alone. And Bev was already pregnant. Inevitably, young mothers got involved with playground, preschools, play-dates, and pregnancies – the four ‘P’s. Four peas in a pod, the ‘B’s would be busy reproducing and Kate would finally be completely closed out of the circle.

      Kate put the invitation down, feeling a little dizzy. Then the buzzer rang. She and Michael had no time for a drink now and she had no desire for one either. She hit the intercom as hard as the wedding invitation had hit her and when he said ‘hello’, instead of inviting him upstairs she told him she’d be down in a minute. Stuffing the stiff square of card into her purse, she told herself she wouldn’t think about the Bunny situation, but on her way down the stairs, careful not to trip in the sandals, the idea of Bunny reproducing like a rabbit came to her. As much as she loved the children at school, and as dedicated as she was to them, Kate felt mournful. She knew she always would do if she didn’t have a child of her own to raise and love.

      Michael was standing in the vestibule. He was wearing pressed chinos, a white Oxford shirt and a tweed sports coat. It was a little heavy for the season, but Kate had noticed that he was always careful to dress conservatively and just a little ‘scholarly’. He was both a good-looking and nice-looking man, just slightly taller than Kate was in her heels, and she liked his abundant curly brown hair.

      ‘Hi,’ she greeted him, trying to put away her concerns the way she had stuffed Bunny’s wedding invitation into her bag. They kissed, just a peck on the lips. ‘You’ve had a haircut,’ she said.

      ‘Nope, just had my ears lowered,’ he replied. Kate wished he hadn’t cut his hair, especially just before meeting Elliot and Brice. It made him the tiniest bit geeky-looking, but she put that thought out of her mind as well. Michael looked fine and was a fine person. He had put himself through undergrad and graduate school on scholarships and his own work. He’d already published papers in important journals and was poised for a brilliant career in academia. He was well read, well informed, and well intentioned, as far as she could tell. The fact that he’d been married – but only for one year, when he was too young to know any better – made him even more attractive in her eyes. He knew how to commit, even if it had been to the wrong woman.

      Now Michael looked at Kate and his deep brown eyes sparkled behind his glasses. ‘You are breathtaking,’ he said and Kate smiled. The cost of the dress was well worth it.

      ‘We better go,’ she said. ‘Brice hates late guests when he’s cooking.’ Despite her words, Michael gently pushed her against the doorway and kissed her. He was a good kisser and Kate let her tongue and mind wander. Then Max, clothed for the gym, came bounding down the stairs. They pulled apart, but Max, of course, had seen them. He raised his eyebrows as he walked past them, Kate’s lip gloss still on his cheek.

      ‘Dinner at Elliot’s?’ he asked as he walked by and down the stoop. Kate felt a twinge of guilt. Of course, she was going to dinner at Elliot’s, but by withholding the information that she was going with an escort she now looked like a liar. Michael, unaware, took her hand and they walked outside and down the steps.

      Kate couldn’t help but think of her two years in Catholic school. Sins of omission and sins of commission: she thought she remembered they were equal. She promised herself she would find some way to apologize to Max later.

      Now she took Michael’s arm as they walked down the shady street. Chelsea was very pretty west of Eighth Avenue. ‘Let’s walk through the seminary garden,’ Michael suggested. Kate smiled her agreement. At this time of day the block-sized park enclosed by the church and seminary buildings was at its most lovely. They walked arm in arm. The tulips made swathes of color against the deep green grass and the gray weathered stone rising from it.

      ‘Kate, stop for a minute,’ Michael said. ‘I have something for you.’

      Kate stood beside him. He fumbled around with his briefcase straps for a moment. He had given Kate a gift before – an out-of-print English psychology book by Winnecott. It had been very thoughtful, and just now she expected another book. But instead he took out a small, oblong box wrapped in silver paper. Unmistakably a jewelry box. ‘Do you know today is our three-month anniversary?’ he asked. Kate actually hadn’t and she was really moved that he had. ‘I saw this and thought of you,’ he said. He handed Kate the box, which she unwrapped. Once she opened it, a thin silver bracelet with a tiny ‘K’ hanging from it was revealed. She looked from it to the expectant expression on Michael’s face. It wasn’t anything she would have chosen for herself, but it was very sweet nonetheless.

      ‘Oh, Michael. Thank you.’ They kissed again and this time there was no interruption.

      ‘Do you like it?’ he asked.

      For a moment, Kate thought of sins of omission again, but even Sister Vincent couldn’t believe they would extend to this. ‘Yes. It’s lovely. Would you fasten it for me?’

      Michael leaned forward and fiddled with the tiny clasp. It took a moment, but at last he had it around her wrist. She stretched out her arm. ‘It looks nice,’ she said.

      ‘It looks great!’ Michael said and tucked her arm in his.

      Kate felt better than she had all day.

       6

      Brice and Elliot had met three years ago, and had only moved in together in September. Brice’s stylish retro furniture in orange and lime green had taken precedence over Elliot’s collection of thrift shop purchases and off-the-street finds. Their two-bedroom apartment in a Chelsea brownstone near Kate’s had large windows in the living room overlooking a tiny backyard. An old refectory table was set before the windows and, despite their protests, Michael and Kate were given the chairs that faced the garden view.

      ‘The tulips are just over and the roses haven’t started so it’s not at its best,’ Brice apologized as he seated them, then excused himself to bring dinner in from the kitchen. Kate noticed they were using Brice’s good glassware and Havilland china and she was