new jacket. You wouldn’t be ‘one of them’ if you did that.
‘Jamie, nice to see you. Hello, Susannah.’ Susannah mustered a smile but didn’t speak or even look up. She concentrated on dipping bread into her rosemary-scented olive oil and twisting a straw in her San Pellegrino.
An uncomfortable silence ensued. I broke in. ‘Ingrid, I still can’t believe you had a baby just a month ago. Your body – you look fabulous!’
Ingrid threw back her silky caramel mane. ‘Well, I told them what path to take to get me back to normal quickly, and I was right, even though they all objected.’
Susannah chortled. ‘What you did wasn’t normal. I’m sorry but most doctors would object.’
Ingrid, not at all intimidated, put her hands on her hips. ‘It may have sounded abnormal to you with your two perfect children delivered naturally. But I don’t come from the same Pilgrim stock as you do. My people don’t believe in voluntary discomfort.’
‘That doesn’t mean …’
‘And that means nothing was going to make me push. I said that to my doctor the second he told me I was pregnant. I said, “Dr Shecter, that’s wonderful news but just so you know: I don’t push.”’
I thought Susannah was going to kill her.
‘Too sweaty. Told him my motto: “If I can’t do it in heels, I’m not interested.” I just told him I wouldn’t do it. And I wanted a C-section.’
‘And what did he say?’ asked Susannah.
‘He said, “Sweetheart, I got news for you. Your body’s gonna push whether you like it or not.” And I said, “No, buddy, I got news for you which you are clearly not understanding: I do not push.”’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I went to another doctor who understood that I meant what I said, so he basically agreed to the C-section and told me we’d do it in the thirty-ninth week.’
Susannah rolled her eyes.
‘But then that doctor wouldn’t promise to give me general anaesthesia.’ Ingrid tapped her boot and crossed her arms impatiently. ‘Well, I told them at East Side Presbyterian that they were bringing it back for me!’
‘And they agreed?’ Susannah asked incredulously. ‘Without a medical reason?’
‘Well, my dear, they sure didn’t want to, but I made Henry give the Chief of Obstetrics a membership at the Atlantic Golf Club, so they really had no choice.’
Susannah coughed into her napkin like she might throw up. Despite Ingrid’s crazy behaviour, I admired her for always getting what she wanted and never being scared to ask.
‘Which is why I came over here, Jamie,’ Ingrid continued. ‘Did you get my email about the auction?’
‘I did.’
‘This year they aren’t holding it in that hideous gallery space in the West Village. I told them if they did, I wouldn’t chair the event. I said to the organizing committee, “Hello?!! Look at the crowd that is coming. Rich people don’t like to leave the Upper East Side! We also don’t like to pretend we’re poor and hip. OK? Because we’re not.” So they’re doing it at Doubles. Nice and close for you.’
‘I’m not sure I can come.’
‘Even if you can’t, we want your anchor to let us auction off a visit to a taping of Newsnight with Joe Goodman. You’re close to him, right? I mean you’ve worked at his show for as long as I’ve known you.’
‘Well, he is my boss – I, I, I’m not sure I really feel comfortable …’
‘Oh, puh-lease, Jamie. What’s more important to you, a few awkward moments with your boss or a cure for Alzheimer’s? So I can count on you?’
‘Well, I, I have to check with his …’
‘Tell you what. How ‘bout I just send him a nice note on my personal stationery saying you and I are the dearest of friends and couldn’t he please …’
‘Ingrid, I don’t think he’d respond well to that, I think I should ask him.’
‘OK, fine, that’s what I said in the first place. You ask him.’ She had outfoxed me and she knew it. I had to smile.
‘And, by the way,’ she whispered as she raised her newly waxed eyebrows and glared down at my feet.
I looked down at my strappy black sandals, thinking I had stepped in something on the sidewalk.
‘Those shoes,’ she instructed with grave concern. ‘Soooo night-time. It’s noon, for God’s sakes.’
As the main courses arrived, chicken paillard with braised endives for Susannah and tricolore salad with grilled shrimp for me, I broached the one topic that had been on the forefront of my mind.
‘I’m worried about Dylan. He kind of lost it at a basketball game.’
‘I heard.’
‘You did?’
‘Yeah. Foetal position instead of scoring a basket?’
‘Oh, no, do you think all the kids are talking about it?’
‘Yes.’
‘They are? Oh, God.’ I buried my head in my napkin.
Susannah pulled it away. ‘Sounds like it was a scary moment in the game.’
‘He just sobbed in my arms. He was so ashamed.’
She rubbed my shoulder. ‘Performance anxiety, that’s all.’
‘Well, that and a little more. Whether it’s normal or not, I don’t know – but I think Phillip’s hours are creating serious self-esteem issues for him. He doesn’t want me to do his homework, he wants Phillip to help. He was completely devastated last week when Phillip didn’t take him to the baseball birthday party on Saturday. He was crying like a four-year-old, throwing his toys all over his room, and dumping his baseball cards on the floor. And then the whole basketball moment too.’
‘Is he still seeing that shrink?’
‘We stopped. He begged me not to make him go. And honestly that guy didn’t seem to be helping. He made him feel like something was wrong with him. And you know, he’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with Dylan. I don’t want to paint him as this hyper-depressed kid. He’s still my wonderful boy who gets enthusiastic about his Lego, and he’s a great reader and so school is fine, but there’s still something not right.’
‘And what does that darling Phillip have to say about all this?’ Susannah adored my husband; they had so much in common, both coming from the same little inbred WASPy fantasia land.
‘Who knows?’ I shrugged my shoulders.
‘What does that mean?’
‘He is concerned about Dylan. Of course he is. He’s just … you know, we don’t have a lot of time to talk these days.’
Susannah shook her finger at me. ‘Remember what I told you …?’
I bobbed my head.
She leaned in close to me. ‘And are you doing it?’
I put my hands in the air, like maybe I wasn’t.
She tapped the table. ‘I’ve told you this a hundred times. Always blow your husband. Always blow your husband.’
Even though I loved Susannah, it was sometimes hard to bond with her because there was so much about her that made me feel inferior. Starting with the fact that she always blew her husband first thing in the morning.
She tapped my hand this time. ‘Don’t ever