Lovely On The Water – Prologue

Lovely on The Water


When I called Leslie, my best friend, she was carrying on one of her infinitely annoying cross-conversations, even as we talked.  “Sylvan, did you see Jerry’s sneaker? I was going to put it upstairs..Sylvan, did the paperboy come yet?…The bread’s still in the freezer, I didn’t take it out..”

Leslie and Sylvan had married ten years ago, when they -and I- were twenty four.  Leslie wore washable, utilitarian jeans and skirts, and her conversation with Sylvan consisted of when they would go shopping next and which day would be best to visit inlaws.

In contrast Sylvan and I had loads of fun concocting around-the-world train rides and themes for wild parties we would throw.

But Sylvan had married spare, tough-boned Leslie, not long-haired, lush, dreamy-eyed me.

I said to Leslie, “Have you been to Etana lately?”

All at once her voice became throatier, seductive.  She said, “As a matter of fact, I was going to make reservations for early in January. Why? Have you changed your mind?”

Lowering my voice, I said, “Is Sylvan around?”

“He’s upstairs now. He’s reading to Jerry.”

She added, “I hope you are starting to understand that Etana is for everyone. Not just for skinny bimbos.”

“So you keep telling me.  How much does this charming weekend run?”

“Thousand a night.”


“But the first time you go as my guest.”

I heard children’s loud voices over the phone, then crying. Leslie sighed. “I think Jerry just pulled Serita’s hair. Or vice versa.”

“Should we continue this a little later?”

“Are you definitely coming?”


As I hung up, I felt a hollow in the pit of my stomach that I tried to think away.


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