We Compare Evenings

The Contessa and I share stories about the night before. Report that Libby's show both boring and offensive (alarmingly common) and that husband Raskolnikov creepy. At the mention of Raskolnikov, the contessa gasps, oh him. At this get very excited about the prospect of scandal, but the Contessa has nothing except that he looks mysterious. Am very disappointed that she doesn't have anything more specific on him. The Contessa seems to sense my disappointment and says, well, she's also heard that he is some sort of Genius. Ask, In What? Math, the Contessa says firmly. Or maybe he is an Artist. One or the other. In frustration, try to create scandal of my own. Tell the Contessa about my faux pas. She says Don't worry, he won't tell Libby and if he does, she won't care. How do you know? I ask. Because this is a revival of the show she did right after September 11th. People got up and left during the show that time. She told me people just don't understand what I'm trying to do. We are mortified on Libby's behalf. The Contessa and I agree that if we were in a performance and someobody left in a huff we would shoot ourselves immediately. We move on to the bridesmaid's dress fitting. The Contessa says that it is confirmed beyond a doubt that the dress has a cape. When she tried to object to the cape on the grounds that it made her look like she was in a third-rate production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, the Bride snapped at her, well maybe you it would fit you better if you went to the gym. Which, the Contessa says, aside from being extremely nasty, is not even the same topic. Ask, What did you say? The Contessa gets her regal look on her face, I told her that she could shove her cape up her (vulgar word). I gasp. Are you still in the wedding? The Contessa says, Well, I didn't actually say that, later I just wished I had. In the moment I couldn't say anything. Which was fine because after that she apologized and said she was under a lot of stress and could I please forgive her. We cried together and then it was fine. But there is no (other vulgar word) way I'm wearing that cape. Ask, Who is this Person and Why are you Friends? The Contessa says, we were friends in college. But I think we are Drifting Apart. Have long train of thought about Drifting Apart. When younger, thought that drifting apart sounded like the saddest thing in the world. Didn't like the idea of people being unable to make up with each other. But now think that certain people are best set adrift. Do not like the cynical turn my thinking has taken.