Page 111 of Summer and the City (The Carrie Diaries 2)

Boy, this is really making me uncomfortable. I’ve got to get out of here. “Can I use the phone?” I ask, and without waiting for permission, pick up the receiver and dial Bernard’s number. He’s still not there. I hang up, fuming, and decide to call him every thirty minutes until I reach him.

When I turn back to the room, the conversation has flagged. So much so that Donna actually asks how my summer is going.

Now it’s my turn to brag.

“I’m having a play reading next week.”

“Oh,” Donna says, clearly unimpressed. “What’s a play reading?”

“Well, I wrote this play, and my professor really loved it and then I met this guy, Bobby, who has a sort of performance space in his apartment, and I have a boyfriend who actually is a playwright—Bernard Singer, maybe you’ve heard of him—not that I’m not an actual writer but . . .” My voice gets smaller and smaller until it trails off into a painful little nothingness.

And where is Samantha in all this?

Glenn taps her watch impatiently.

“Oh, she’ll show up,” Mrs. LaDonna gushes. “We LaDonnas are always late,” she says proudly, as if this is a plus. I look at her and shake my head. She’s no help at all.

“I think your play sounds very exciting,” Erica says, tactfully changing the subject.

“It is,” I agree, praying Samantha will arrive at any moment. “It’s kind of a big deal. Being my first play and all.”

“I always told Erica she should become a writer,” Glenn says, giving her daughter a disapproving look. “If you’re a writer, you can stay at home with your children. If you actually decide to have children.”

“Mother, please,” Erica says, as if she’s had to tolerate this discussion many times before.

“Instead Erica’s decided to become a public defender!” Glenn exclaims grimly.

“A public defender,” Mrs. LaDonna says, attempting to look impressed.

“What’s that?” Donna asks, examining her manicure.

“It’s a special kind of lawyer,” I answer, wondering how Donna cannot know this.

“It’s all about choice, Mother,” Erica says firmly. “And I choose not to be chosen.”

Glenn gives her a stiff little smile. She probably can’t move her muscles too much due to the face-lift. ?

??It all sounds so terribly sad.”

“But it isn’t sad at all,” Erica replies evenly. “It’s freeing.”

“I don’t believe in choice,” Glenn announces, addressing the room. “I believe in destiny. And the sooner you accept your destiny, the better. It seems to me you young girls waste a terrible amount of time trying to choose. And all you end up with is nothing.”

Erica smiles. And turning to me, she explains, “Mother’s been trying to marry Charlie off for years. She’s pushed every debutante in the Blue Book in his direction, but of course, he never liked any of them. Charlie’s not that dumb.”

There’s an audible gasp from Mrs. LaDonna as I peer around in shock. Donna and her mother look like they’ve had face-lifts as well. Their expressions are as frozen as Glenn’s.

The phone rings and I automatically reach for it, wondering if it’s Bernard, having somehow managed to track me down at Kleinfeld.

I’m such a dummy sometimes. It’s Samantha.

“Where are you?” I whisper urgently. “Everyone’s here. Glenn and Erica—”

“Carrie.” She cuts me off. “I’m not going to be able to make it.”

“What?”

“Something came up. A meeting I can’t get out of. So if you wouldn’t mind telling Glenn . . .”