Zoe & Sophia Shop to Drop Their Woes and Webcam Dance in Sheer Nightgowns with Sexy Chloe

April 2nd, 2010

April 2, 2010

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 asked, “HOW DO I FORGE A RELATIONSHIP WITH GEORGE THAT ENCOMPASSES RESPECT, COMPASSION AND GOODWILL IN ORDER TO HONOR THE YEARS WE SPENT TOGETHER?” Any advice you can give to Zoe would be helpful, but this is what Sophia said.

At midnight Zoe and Sophia were wide awake. Both women sat at their laptops in their 1700s New Hampshire homes, five miles apart. Zoe was feeling acute stress about her divorce trial the following morning, but she also felt grateful that her sister Chloe had traveled from Boston to support her.

Sophia worried about Zoe’s divorce hearing too. She knew just how vulnerable her best friend was and that it would take very little for her to cave into her pain. But Sophia was also consumed with releasing her anger toward her husband Marty and the way he recently dipped selfishly back into her life for a couple of weeks, and then returned to his girlfriend Fugly.

Since Zoe could see that Sophia was online, she typed into her Facebook chat box, “Call Me.”

“Hey, Zo. You should try to sleep. You’ll need your wits about you tomorrow.”

“It’s a nice thought, but my mind won’t shut up.”

“My mind’s running too. Why won’t yours shut up?”

“Well, I just keep wondering how two people who were married for decades, who shared their innermost thoughts, their joys and struggles, could become so disengaged and need to spend so much money on lawyers. Why couldn’t George and I have talked more and sorted this out for ourselves. What happened to the love, Sophie?”

“Anger, bitterness, loss, rejection, humiliation, resentment….”

“Okay, okay. I get the point.”

“Maybe you and George could still talk,” said Sophia.

“It’s a little late for that. Anyway, what would I say to him?”

“If I were George, I know what might make me feel better.”

“What, Sophie?”

“Let George know you appreciate the positive aspects of the marriage. I wish Marty had the decency to let me know the good stuff instead of mostly demonizing me.”

“I haven’t done that to George—not the way Marty has with you.”

“I know, but have you actually talked to George about the good things he brought to the marriage?”

“Not so much. What would I say?”

“You have four amazing children. He had something to do with that.”


“George also knew how to take care of your heart when you mourned losses in your life.”

“He did indeed.”

“He could make you laugh, Zo, and you always said the sex was good.”

“True again, but why would I say these things to George now?”

“It’s time to find some closure. I hate that word, but it fits. Zoe, your motivations for leaving only suggest that, in the end, the positive did not outweigh the negative, but you can’t deny there was good stuff there too.”

“So, you think by talking to him we might find some closure?”

“It can’t hurt. Part of why you two don’t speak often is that he probably still feels resentful and abandoned. You left him, and he is, no doubt, struggling to find self-worth.  If you let him know that he has value in your eyes, it might help him heal. I can relate, you know. Of course, it would be nice if George were receptive and realized just how much grace and selflessness you’ve shown over the past year. It’s obvious to me that you still care about him.”

“Of course, I do. I love George. I wish him only the best and have gone out of my way not to cause him harm–not like Marty. He’s been a bastard to you.”

“No kidding, but I have to let it go, Zo. And honestly, now I’m grateful because the most destructive aspect of the equation has stepped out of my turmoil.”

“Fuck sake, Sophie, speak English. I know it’s late, but could you try to be more literal and less metaphorical.”

“I never asked Marty to come back. He came to me. But before he did, I was gripped by my longing for him. I knew I could forgive the affair, the lies, even the cruel treatment and learn to trust him again. But it was not the Marty I knew who came back. That person is dead in a sense. Now, that place inside of me that longed for him has vanished. I don’t want to be anywhere near Marty. I don’t want his energy, his eyes, his body, his touch, his smell, his thoughts or his words. He is not someone I care to know any longer. That’s progress.”

“I’ll say it is.”

“Hey, Zoe, at least you have your trip to Florida to look forward to.”

“I cancelled the reservation today.”


“I realized I was just running away from what I need to feel,” said Zoe.

“What do you mean?”

“I was flying down to see Jackson as a temporary fix. I need to stay here and deal with my feelings about the divorce. I’ll go see Jackson after you move down there, and hopefully he’ll still want to be with me.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I have a feeling he’s conflicted about me.”

Since Zoe’s separation from George, she had dated several men. But for the past few weeks she suspended cruising the internet dating sites, and she let go of all her relationships except the one with Jackson. He was the only man for whom she felt a true attachment that encompassed a deep friendship.

“I need to go to sleep, Sophie, at least try. Chloe went to bed earlier, and maybe if I climb in next to her, just the comfort of having her here will help me to drift off. My sister is very good to me.”

“Yes, she is. You’re lucky to have her.”

After Zoe hung up, Sophia walked slowly up the stairs to her bedroom. She felt a jab of aged sorrow, wishing her sister were still alive to climb in to bed with for comfort. But the only living thing in her bed was Tolstoy, her huge Maine Coon cat. He lay sleeping on what was Marty’s side of the bed, next to Sophia’s goodie bag. Sophia silently slid between the sheets, not wanting to wake Tolstoy. If he were awake, he’d leap on her stomach and pin her down until morning, and Sophia really wanted to sit up and watch an old DVD she found in the closet while she was packing for her move to Florida.

Zoe made fun of Sophia a few days before when she proudly brandished three seasons of the old TV show Nash Bridges. They were on a shelf next to DVDs of the entire series of Miami Vice. Something about Don Johnson’s sex appeal had always captured Sophia’s attention. She regarded him as a secret fantasy who had been hanging around in the wings of her mind for twenty-five years. Zoe shrugged at the sex appeal bit and nearly shouted that Sophia couldn’t seriously think Don Johnson was a good actor. But Sophia defended him even on that score. She thought Don Johnson was underrated. Finally, they agreed to disagree. Of course, Zoe had to admit she never watched even one episode of Nash Bridges—she said she would rather eat arsenic.

Once Don Johnson and his sidekick Cheech Marin actually sprung into action on the TV screen, Sophia was so tired that she forgot to eat her usual Chex Mix and Nutella evening snack and fell fast asleep.

The next morning George was the only African American at the courthouse. Eyebrows arched when he first walked into the courtroom for the divorce trial. He was distinguished in a suit and tie, and each time Zoe glanced over at him, she thought how handsome he looked, but thinner than usual. From time to time, George leaned in to his attorney’s ear to whisper. Zoe didn’t try to guess what George was saying. She really didn’t care. She just wanted the whole thing to be over.

Zoe looked limp as she shuffled back into the courtroom after a recess during the trial. She hoped today would mark the resolution of her long marriage. But it was beginning to look as if too many issues remained unresolved, from a legal standpoint, a practical one, and to Zoe’s surprise, an emotional one. Zoe and George took the stand and testified as to their truths. Soon, the judge would hold in her hands the facts, and with them, the power to divide the aspects of their former lives, which the couple were unable to agree upon. But no judge could guide Zoe about how she should feel. She felt empty and shadowy and confused.

Occasionally, she glanced back at her sister, wishing she could walk over and fold herself in Chloe’s arms. Chloe bent forward, straining to hear every word the witnesses spoke. She had the luxury of detachment and distance, so she could track the judge’s demeanor and that of the two attorneys. She tried to keep her face free of expression, but a few times she wanted to gasp at what she deemed outrageous unfairness in the process she observed.

Chloe and Zoe were undeniably sisters in their pretty facial features, but their statures were quite different. Zoe was tall, lean and long legged. Chloe was petite, with the small, lithe limbs of a ballerina. They both had blond hair and their mother’s smile, which radiated across any room. Chloe’s cornflower blue eyes compassionately sought Zoe’s hazel ones during Zoe’s examination on the witness stand. Chloe was relieved that Zoe’s testimony was clear, articulate and came straight from her heart, without rancor, without spite. But Chloe still felt helpless to protect her younger sister from the pain that emanated from Zoe’s eyes. Protection of Zoe was something Chloe had felt responsible for since they were children, especially after the death of their father, which left a mother and her three young daughters in emotional shambles.

Zoe also wished Sophia were in the courtroom, but Sophia purposely stayed away. She didn’t want to upset George, who was once one of her dearest friends. George cut Sophia loose as a friend on the day Zoe left him and temporarily moved into Sophia’s house, over a year before. Sophia knew her presence at the trial would just serve to remind George of the harshest period, the first few months following Zoe’s departure from the marriage.

Meanwhile, Sophia was too preoccupied to devote meaningful time to editing her current manuscript. She decided to work off nervous energy a couple miles away from the courthouse, until the trial was over. She planned to meet Zoe and Chloe for a meal and a debriefing. Shopping was the only way Sophia knew how to distract herself fully from worrying about Zoe. Shopping also helped obliterate every image of Marty that popped into her head. Her mind, though, was so vigilant in its scrutiny of these thoughts that she was mentally exhausted.

But physically, Sophia was fine as she streamed up and down the aisles of a TJ Maxx and filled the shopping cart to overflowing with clothes she would try on but could not afford to buy. A couple of times she grated the heels of other shoppers, when her shopping cart went straight ahead, but her eyes caught something in another direction. Before long, people saw Sophia coming, saw the glazed look in her eyes, and eased out of her path as diplomatically as they could. Sophia was unaware that she appeared like something between a crazed monkey and a rabid bat.

At one point three shoppers came into the store together, shared a cart and were having a lively discussion as they browsed the racks of clothes. They didn’t see Sophia, who was pushing her cart at full tilt, as her eyes focused downward on the cell phone, willing it to ring. Unfortunately, one of the three women stepped out into the aisle as Sophia rushed past her. Sophia’s foot caught the woman’s ankle. The woman tripped and fell into one of her friends. The friend was knocked off balance and grabbed hold of the third friend to try to break her fall. The third friend wasn’t paying attention, and as she took her next step, she keeled over on top of the other two women who lay on the floor, under an entire rack of fashionable spring jackets that had landed on top of them.

Sophia heard the cries of the three women and turned around to see what was wrong. They glowered up at Sophia. Within seconds, other shoppers rushed to help the fallen woman. Concerned, Sophia started to hurry back toward them too, but just then, her cell phone blinged an incoming text message from Zoe. Sophia stopped to read it, directly in the path of two salespeople who were also rushing to the scene of the accident. In their efforts not to mow down Sophia, they bumped into each other, tripped and knocked down the three fallen shoppers, just as they were getting back on their feet. Zoe’s message told Sophia to meet her right away, and to everyone’s relief, Sophia’s dashed from the store, leaving a cart full of clothes by the door.

Two tall, slender blonds flanking a third, smaller one, strode confidently down the busy street in Dover. Chloe’s elfin, graceful walk was accentuated by Zoe’s and Sophia’s long strides. On any other day, the sheer delight of the warm spring air would have been enough for them to throw back their heads and laugh at nothing much, since easy laughter was a quality all three shared. But today, their expressions were somber, helpless.

The trial had not yielded an end result, and after three hours of testimony, the case was continued for another month. Although Zoe and the other two were headed to an Italian restaurant, when they walked past an Asian one, they saw through the window an empty table. Sunshine steamed down on the table. Their collective need for light, to dispel their internal darkness, was so compelling, that they walked into the Asian restaurant, sat at the illuminated table, and soaked up the light, waiting to order food for which they had little appetite.

While they waited, Zoe and Chloe filled Sophia in on some of the stickier issues during the trial, which required further evidence and resulted in the month’s delay. Both women talked through tears. By the time the charming, young Chinese woman arrived at their table, they realized that a cup of soup and a glass of wine was all their stomachs could abide. When the wine arrived, they raised their glasses to toast, but their minds went blank.

“To new beginnings?” asked Chloe finally.

“To family, newly configured?” asked Zoe.

“Shit,” said Sophia. “Let’s just toast to the passage of time, and that we won’t always feel this bleak. Life is what we make it, right? Here’s to joy.”

“Never mind,” said Zoe. “Skip the toast. What are we gonna do with the rest of the afternoon and evening. Sophie’s right. We need to find our joy. Can you stay another night, Chloe?”

Chloe’s bright blue eyes lit up and an impish smile spread across her face.

“I’ll call Thomas and let him know I won’t be home,” said Chloe. Thomas was Chloe’s husband.

“We could read out loud from When Things Fall Apart,” said Sophia. She was referring to a book by the American Buddhists writer Pema Chodron, whom Zoe and Sophia adored.

“NO,” said Zoe and Chloe in unison. “Maybe later,” added Zoe.

“Then what should we do?” asked Sophia.

“Well, shopping is a pretty good curative when I feel like shit,” said Zoe.

“Okay, but we have to go some place other than TJ Maxx. I can’t go back there today,” said Sophia.

The other two looked at her quizzically.

“It’s a long story,” said Sophia.

“Fuck sake, Sophie, does it involve broken bones or blood?”

“No, Zo, it does not. Never mind, okay?”

“I’ll just use my imagination,” said Zoe.

Chloe, uncertain of why the conversation had become so cryptic said, “Later, can we go hear some music, maybe go dancing? My night life is pretty staid these days. I like getting together with the same couples for drinks and dinner and talking about familiar stuff, but I’d like to do something different.”

Zoe and Sophia looked at each other, smiled, then nodded at Chloe. The memory, now fading, of being married for decades snagged them. And it occurred to both women, that although sometimes they looked back with melancholy at the loss of a spousal devotion and comfort, they didn’t miss certain aspects of long-married life, like the tedium of predictability.

Zoe and Sophia took Chloe to spend the rest of the afternoon in the Fox Run Mall in Newington. They weren’t in the mood to buy much, but walking from store to store, and chatting as they perused books, jewelry and the new spring lines released some of their stress.

By late afternoon they pulled up to Zoe’s house to shower and change their clothes for the evening. Sparky, Zoe’s stroke-impaired, incontinent yellow lab barked loudly as they approached the front door. Zoe went in first, but the force field of smell reached the women behind her. Normally, Sparky would have been in the car with Zoe all day, but she wanted to spare him the intensity of what she anticipated feeling once the trial was over, so she had left him at home.

Apart from incontinence, Sparky’s stroke rendered him incapable of walking straight, so Sparky bounded out the door sideways and slammed right into Chloe who didn’t know she was supposed to jump out of Sparky’s way. In his excitement, he let out a stream of yellow stuff that barely missed poor Chloe, who lay stunned on the front porch.

“What…was THAT,” yelled Chloe.

“Sorry,” called Zoe as she raced around the downstairs cleaning up the piles Sparky had deposited throughout.

Sophia turned to shut the door, just as Sparky tried to run back inside to say hello. In the last inch before the door closed, Sparky caught Sophia’s eye. That bitch, he thought. I’ve been stuck here all day without my beautiful Zoe, and that awful Sophia will probably make me stay out here forever. Why does she have to come to my house, anyway? She should just stay home with her big bully cat Tolstoy and have a mean-person party with him. Sparky slunk off to sulk under a tree as the women took turns showering.

Although the downstairs bathroom mirror was a little crowded, Zoe, Sophia and Chloe all managed to wedge in front of it, as they stood in their panties and bras lathering moisturizers on their bodies, drying their blond hair and artfully applying make-up.

“Where are we going, Zo?” asked Sophia.

“I don’t know. What type of music do you wanna hear, Clo?”

“I’d love to hear some live R & B,” said Chloe.

“Tonight there’s an R & B band at the Dolphin Striker in Portsmouth, and the food’s pretty good.” As Zoe said this, she caught in the mirror the discomfort reflected in Sophia’s eyes. Sophia sighed hard. “What do you think, Sophie? Can you handle that place again?”

“I guess,” said Sophia.

Chloe looked in the mirror, back and forth, into the eyes of the other two. “Is there a problem?”

Sophia took a deep breath before answering. “Marty found me at the Dolphin Striker the night he told me he wanted to leave his girlfriend Fugly and come back home to me. Zoe and I haven’t been there since.”

“I don’t care where we go, Sophie,” said Chloe. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“No,” said Sophia. “I’ve been traumatized, Chloe, and everywhere I turn has some association with Marty that triggers either despair or panic. That’s the main reason I don’t want to live here anymore. In Florida, I won’t have to be constantly reminded of the nightmare of Marty. I might even be able to accept the situation and find some compassion for him.”

Just then Zoe’s eyes began to brim with tears. “Sophie, please talk about something else. Until now, I’ve been able to stuff my feelings about your move, but it’s been a tough day, and I don’t have the emotional stamina.”

“Okay, Zo.”

“Wait,” said Chloe, “I wanna hear what happened when Marty came back. What were his reasons?”

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” said Zoe as she turned and walked from the bathroom. “I’ve heard the story and it makes me sick.”

Sophia shrugged and looked at Chloe in the mirror. “Marty said we belonged together. And he said a lot of other things like that he was an old curmudgeon and that I understood him.”

“Wow, that’s weird…and not that romantic,” said Chloe.

“But before long he started telling me everything he gave up to come back to me, kinda like guilting me for his choice.”

“What did he give up?”

“He said Fugly was willing to pay off all his debts and set him up with a new business.”

“I thought it was her famous husband and really famous father-in-law who had all the money.”

“I guess she must have plenty too if she was able to do all that for Marty. Well, now he doesn’t have to “give up” anything for me, does he?”

“Do you think that was some of his motivation for going back to her?”

“I dunno. Could be.”

“Does she have kids?”

“Three young ones, but they stayed with their father. She sees them on a visitation schedule. When Marty came back, he admitted that it really bothered him that he wasn’t allowed to stay with Fugly on the nights she had her kids. He had to stay in a dumpy little motel near her house. A couple of days after he went back to her, we were on the phone, and he told me that’s all been taken care of, and he’s allowed to live with Fugly full-time. I guess coming back to me was the leverage he needed to get Fugly to do what he wanted.”

“That’s diabolical, Sophie. Although I don’t know Marty well, I’ve known him a long time. He always struck me as arrogant, but I had no idea his selfishness was so extreme.”

“Hey, he’s probably not that different than anyone else, Chloe. He wants to get his needs met. He just had different needs when we were together. People change. From everything I’ve observed, Fugly is a predatory human being. She aggressively seeks whatever she wants even if she hurts other people in the process. I guess Marty’s espoused that way of thinking. It ignores a little thing called Karma, of course, which follows us wherever. But he’s not my problem anymore.”

Chloe looked at Sophia in the mirror for a moment before asking, “What is Zoe going to do without you?”

Sophia lifted her eyebrows and shook her head. “Dunno. And what am I going to do without Zoe?”

Just then, Zoe called from the living room for them to hurry up. Minutes later, the three women drove toward Portsmouth. Chloe sat in the passenger seat talking to Zoe about Zoe’s despair. Chloe said she was relieved that her sister chose to curtail her frantic connection with several men at once. When Zoe asked her why, her sister said that the emotional emptiness that motivated Zoe’s actions wasn’t going to be filled by other people. Zoe needed to work on loving herself more. Sophia, who sat in the backseat listening, pulled from her purse a book called The Secret by Rhonda Byrne.

“You know what?” said Sophia, “I just read something about that. It has to do with the laws of attraction and rearranging the way we think about ourselves. Do you mind if I read a passage from this book?”

“Go ahead,” said Zoe.

Sophia started to read:

“The reason you have to love You is because it is impossible to feel good if you don’t love You. When you feel bad about yourself, you are blocking all the love and all the good the Universe has for you.
When you feel bad about yourself it feels as though you are sucking the life out of you, because all of your good, on every subject—including health, wealth, and love—is on the frequency of joy and feeling good….When you don’t feel good about You, you are on a frequency that is attracting more people, situations, and circumstances that will continue to make you feel bad about You.

You must change your focus and begin to think about all the things that are wonderful about you. Look for the positives in You. As you focus on those things, the law of attraction will show you more great things about You. You attract what you think about. All you have to do is begin with one prolonged thought of something good about You, and the law of attraction will respond by giving You more like thoughts.”

“Hum, it’s sounds a little simplistic, but plausible,” said Chloe.

“Good point,” said Zoe, ” but I’ve learned that the wisest solutions in life are often the most simple ones,” said Zoe.

“Let’s play a game,” said Sophia. “Let’s take turns naming good things about ourselves.”

“Okay,” said Zoe. “I’m intelligent.”

“I good at nurturing,” said Sophia.

“I’m resourceful,” said Chloe.

“I’m a good lover,” said Zoe.

“I’m creative,” said Sophia.

“I’m ingenious,” said Chloe.

“I’m done with this game,” said Zoe. “We’re almost there, so let’s send out into the universe our desires to find a good parking spot, a good table, good music, and a cute waiter.”

“Was that a Buddhist thing, Zo?”
“Sounds like.”

Chloe looked confused.

After parking right in front of the Dolphin Striker, the three women shimmered as they stepped into the sultry atmosphere. The R & B band had already started their set, and the women found an empty table right in front. They each ordered crab cakes and salad, which were delicious. The young man who waited on them was handsome, amusing and flirtatious.  Zoe and Chloe danced with abandon as partners. Sophia decided to opt out since she’d already caused one train wreck that day in the store. Tonight, she preferred to watch.

After a couple of hours, Zoe and Sophia thought Chloe might enjoy a dance club, so they walked across the street to the Gaslight. Unfortunately, the place was nearly deserted, owing perhaps to the unrelenting Techno music that split their ear drums. They danced for a couple of songs then called it an early night.

But when they got back to Zoe’s house, all three of them were still jumpy, wanting to dance. Zoe put on an old Marvin Gay CD, and Chloe and Sophia whirled around the living room in their sheer nightgowns. Zoe sat down at her laptop, turned on her Webcam, and began cruising a dating site, for the first time in weeks. She flirted with a fireman from Chicago before asking if he wanted to watch some dancing. He nodded enthusiastically, at which point Zoe jumped up and joined the other two. Sophia looked over at the stranger’s face on the laptop screen.

“What are you doing, Zo?” asked Sophia.

“I thought I’d show Chloe one of the things we do for fun.”

“But I thought you swore off Webcam dating.”

“I’m not dating, Sophie, I’m just dancing.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. But just then, one of her favorite songs, Sexual Healing, started to play, and she couldn’t help throwing herself into a series of perfect pirouettes. Zoe, eyes closed, moved sensuously, gracefully to the music. And Sophia grooved out spastically, thinking she looked fabulous with her best moves. Before long, the song transported the women to a distant place inside of themselves, where the excruciating ache of pubescent excitement still lived. When the song ended, Zoe walked over to the Webcam and turned it off then she lowered the volume of the music.

“Let’s talk,” Zoe said as she lay down across an oriental rug on the living room floor.

“What’s wrong, Zo?” asked Sophia as she joined her on the floor.

“This is a nice distraction, but I’m still perplexed and a bit sad.”

“What about?” asked Chloe as she lay down on the other side of Zoe.

“I need to move on with my life, but I’m dragged down by such old shit. Somehow, I feel that I need to sort things out with George before I can move forward with emotional clarity.”

“We talked about that last night,” said Sophia as she studied the knotholes in one of the old ceiling beams.

“I know. But I can’t remember what we said.”

“What was the question?” asked Chloe, as she glanced out the window at the full moon.




Zoe listened carefully and as she did so, ideas of how to move forward with George sprung into her mind. But after a couple of minutes, her mind wandered away.

“Hey, Sophie, let’s take Clo to an all-night tanning salon.”

“I don’t do tanning salons,” said Chloe.

“Bummer,” said Sophia.

“Actually, neither did we when we were married,” said Zoe. “But people change. A tanning bed is a pretty good place to meditate.”

“You guys meditate?” asked Chloe.

“Of course, we do,” said Sophia. “How else would we manage our lives?”

“You manage your lives?” asked Chloe.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” cried Zoe.

Chloe threw her sister a look then said, “Oh well, since I’m living the singles scene tonight, I guess a few minutes in a tanning bed won’t kill me.”

Without bothering to get dressed, the fifty-something BFFs, plus one sister, threw coats over their sheer nightgowns and pulled boots on over their bare feet. Then they dashed out the door, laughing at nothing much, and drove into the night, under a full moon, off on another adventure as the Sublime Consumers of the Lightness of Being.

To be continued…And remember to read the whole story, start at the bottom of the blog.  You can use the calendar in the right column and click on the bolded dates of publication.  And thanks for your wonderful comments.  Keep them coming!

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