The Contessa's Bad News

Receive phone call late last night and am awakened from dream in which have just had fried fish and tea with Sarah Silverman (why?) It is the Contessa on the phone. The wedding is off, she says in exhausted sort of voice. Can she come stay at my place--she'll tell me all about it when she gets here. Say yes, of course. Am glad that she has called, but her approach starts a tense and initially unproductive search for clean sheets. Dave is helping in search and he puts in his monthly bid for a cleaning lady to come and do our laundry. Before have chance to retort, remember box of sheets on top shelf of most inaccessable closet. Sheets, when found, are, technically clean, but perhaps not the freshest, and consist of one gingham sheet and one a sort of lurid chintz that can't imagine me or Dave buying or accepting (where then did it come from?) and two unmatched pillow cases, scratchy things from Ikea. But when the Contessa comes, sheets are not what she is worried about. The New Man has cheated on her with Jackie. Ask, shocked, Jackie from school? The Contessa nods grimly, the very one. The only bright side she can see is that the New Man's sister is going to be very, very upset and bigoted about Jackie. Tell the Contessa that she is being very strong--how is she doing it? At this she begins to sob. Rub her back. Dave, who has been in the other room, hears the proceedings, and with great presence of mind makes everyone cocoa which we spike with whiskey and drink once the Contessa catches her breath. Why, she asks, very late in the evening, why do things have to be ruined right when they seem to be going so well? Do not have an answer for her, and can only suggest that we make ourselves quesadillas.