La tentation de la seconde chance

My grandmother was married for fifty-two years, until my grandfather died. She used to say that a bad marriage was one that hadn’t had enough time to get good again.

Si on a des idées de boulot en regardant une comédie romantique, c’est qu’on a pris un coup de vieux.

I knew the stereotype of an overbearing Jewish mother – as aforementioned, I am a Philip Roth fan – and I probably met some of those criteria. But honestly, I wasn’t one and I’m still not one. I had a job that fulfilled me. I had friends. My daughter was my love, but she was not my life.
So I decided to leave her be. I sent her lavender-scented hand lotion from Crabtree & Evelyn, but that was all. Lavender was her favorite.

She went to the kitchen to pour herself some coffee. She was meant to have given up coffee, but what was the point of living without coffee? Living, it seemed to her, was the acquiring of bad habits. Dying, the process of rescinding them. Death was the land without habits. Without coffee.

“Are you going to be able to come to the party tonight?” Embeth asked.
“Yes,” Margarita said. “Of course I am, Ms Levin. I would not miss it! I sewed my dress myself. It is a red corset on the top and a black hoop skirt on the bottom, and I will wear small black lace gloves without fingertips, and my hair up, pulled black tight, and a small veil over my face. It will be so dramatic.”
“Sound it,” Embeth said. ”You can wear it again to my funeral”
“Do not be morbid, Ms. Levin. The dress is very festive.”

“The truth is, Ruby, I’ve been having a kind of hard year,” she said. She looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to us.
“I was pregnant,” she said, “but now I’m not.” Franny’s eyes began to tear, and she looked like a glum goldfish.
I did not know what to say. My mom says when you do not know what to say, you can either say “I don’t know what to say” or you can say “I’m sorry” or you can say nothing and offer a “comforting gesture.” I put my hand on her hand.
“Thank you for not saying ‘It wasn’t meant to be’ or ‘You can always try again.’” Franny said
“I wouldn’t say those things.” I said.
“I wasn’t even sure if I wanted a child, so why am I so sad?” Franny said.
“I don’t know,” I said. But then I did know. “Because the things we don’t have are sadder than the things we have. Because the things we don’t have exist in our imaginations, where they are perfect.”

“How did he propose? I don’t think I asked.” I put her contract into my filing cabinet.
“Oh, it was romantic,” she said. Romantic was a big word with her. “Well, I think it was romantic. As I’m about to say it, it might seem weird to you.” Weird was another of her words.
He had proposed at her mother’s funeral. Not at it, but just after it. I had a sense that it happened in the parking lot of the cemetery, but I wasn’t clear. She was crying and grieving, mucus everywhere, and he had gotten down on one knee, and he had said something like, “Now this can’t ever be the saddest day of your life.” Gross. Again, I suppose he had meant well, but this was truly the worst thing I’d heard about him yet. For God’s sake, some days are meant to be the saddest days of your life. Also, should she have been making major life decisions when her mother had just died?

They didn’t put a scarlet letter on her chest, but they didn’t need to. That’s what the Internet is for.

...
- Vous savez pour qui je suis désolé ? Ses parents.
Et :
- JE me demande ce que cette fille est devenue. Enfin, qui l'embaucherait ? Qui l'épouserait ?
Finalement :
- Grossman ! Aviva Grossman ! Voilà !
Et moi de répéter :
-Voilà.