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Zoe & Sophia Chair Dance for the Locals and Demonstrate Airport Etiquette as the Sublime Consumers of the Lightness of Being

January 27th, 2010 3 comments

January 27
Please send your ADVICE to two single women, whose lives are suddenly crashing in chaos! Zoe and Sophia, BFFs for thirty years, find themselves unexpectedly cast into the world of re-creation and redefinition after decades of being faithful wives to George and Marty. They need advice from anyone willing to help them. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF if she wailed, “HOW CAN I GO HOME WITH ALL THAT PAIN WAITING FOR ME? Any advice you can give to Sophia would be helpful, but this is what Zoe said.

Early on the morning of Zoe and Sophia’s last full day in Florida, Zoe found Sophia sprawled in a heap on the deck outside the guest bedroom, sobbing, of course. Zoe expected this would happen when Sophia realized the transitory nature of her escape from the searing pain of her broken marriage to Marty. Sophia stopped crying out the litany of harms, a morning ritual, when she saw Zoe’s shadow.
“Get up, Sophie. The sun’s out and we need to put the polish on our tans.”
“Jackson’s been such a good host. Oh, Zo, I’m dreading going back to New Hampshire.”
“Don’t waste precious time on that shit. We don’t leave until tomorrow. Today is today.”

“Okay. How are you doing?” Sophia asked as she struggled to her feet. Before Zoe could answer, Sophia reached out for a badly needed hug, but Zoe didn’t see her, and at that instant she bolted back indoors when she heard Jackson call her name. Consequently, Sophia wrapped her arms around air, leaned into the same then fell flat on her face. “Trust” was not a game to be played with Zoe if she was answering the call of the “nature.”

An hour later Sophia heard Zoe open Jackson’s bedroom door and heard the bathroom door bang. Fully expecting to find Zoe immersed in one of her too-many-to-count ‘afterglows,’ Sophia barged into the bathroom, boundaries being a concept they ignored with each other’s space. To her surprise, she heard Zoe weeping in the shower. Instead of letting Zoe cry alone, Sophia jerked back the curtain. Frightened, Zoe screamed and slipped on the soapy tub floor. On her way down, Zoe grabbed the shower curtain, and took both the curtain and fixtures down with her.
“Fuck sake, Sophie. Why did you scare me like that?”
“I’m concerned about you,” she said to the back of Zoe’s head, since Zoe’s face rested on the bath mat, while her legs and torso still occupied the tub. Since the curtain had lost its purpose, water spurted everywhere, not that either woman noticed.

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