The Scarlet Letter Society by Mary McCarthy Page B

shoes from the 1940s. She smiled.
    “It was quite intellectual, asshole,” she said. “We actually talked about a book.”
    “Oh, I thought the whole “book club” thing was just to make you all feel like you were actually doing something productive, but that you never actually read any of the books,” Wes said,.
    “To be honest, that’s what usually happens. But I think we needed to get away from the historical shit. While it is beautifully written, it was just too long-windedfor the likes of us, possibly with the exception of Lisa, who I think was probably the only one who read it.”
    “The cute piemaker! I’m so proud of her,” said Wes. “I’m going to go over there and buy a blackberry pie from her, and then give it to my mother because it’s too fattening.”
    “Yeah, God forbid you eat too many carbs, even when there’s fruit involved,” said Maggie.
    “What did you just call me?” Wes huffed in mock disgust.
    “I need advice,” said Maggie.
    “Oh, God. Well let me guess,” said Wes. “Even though I’m your gay best friend, you are once again going to seek my Yoda-like Jedi wisdom on straight men and sex and dating.”
    “Pretty much,” said Maggie. “I think it was re-reading Fear of Flying again that got me into this ‘thinking about my love life’ mode, and now I’m just kind of a mess.”
    “Oh, God, you read Fear of Flying again. Ok, Isadora, well, what the hell exactly is your problem?”
    “I don’t know. I just feel like such a relationship failure. I fucked up my first marriage, then I fucked up my second marriage. Now I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend…and Dave and I just fucked.”
    “I’m sorry. I clearly did not hear you. Whaaat did you just say?” asked Wes, surprised.
    “We had lunch plans to talk about Lilith’s graduation party,” said Maggie. “I don’t even know how it ended up happening. He wanted to show me this historic building in town that he’d just saved from the wrecking ball and listed on the National Register of Historic Places. So we walked the few blocks over there after lunch. I said I’d love to see the inside, and he of course knew which door to go in, and we ended up fucking on this huge windowsill on the 13 th floor. Half the town could probably see us.”
    “You. Have. Got. To. Be. Fucking. Kidding. Me,” said Wes. “Exhibitionism is a new one for you. And who fucks on the 13 th floor? Have you and Dave ever hooked up since your divorce? I know you would’ve told me.”
    “Oh, hell yeah,” said Maggie. “I didn’t tell anyone, I was so embarrassed! Just told the girls at A-club group therapy. I totally cheated on my second husband with Dave, who was cheating on his second wife with me before they divorced. We’ve gotten together on and off over the years since our divorce.”
    “Well I do declare, Margaret,” said Wes, “this is an entirely different shade of scarlet!”
    “I know,” said Maggie. “I guess I never felt like it was cheating if it was Dave. We have kids together. We have history. Our marriage fell apart because we lost our son, and we just didn’t know how to console each other or even ourselves. But I never stopped loving him.”
    “Oh my Holy God,” said Wes. He put two bowling shirts on the counter and took out his wallet. “Alfred and I will look fab in these at 50s night at the theatre. Girl, you’re a hot mess as usual. I’m not even sure what advice to give you, and you know I’m never speechless. I guess to me it sounds like eventually you and Dave are going to have to sit down, in a chair, not on each other’s faces, and talk about what the hell is going on.”
    “You’re right,” said Maggie. “At some point I’m going to have to learn to stop putting band aids on the gaping wound from my first marriage ending. It’s not fair to the band aid people. But I don’t know how Dave feels. I always figured maybe it’s just a sex thing for him—he’s a guy!”
    “Well, I’m a guy, and