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did the fact that she’s asking me to go to 112th and Broadway, a few blocks from her apartment. She undoubtedly knows that I’m in my office in Midtown, at Fifty-Seventh and Madison. In other words, a two-minute walk for her and a forty-minute
the possibilities regarding my sister’s news. Given that we are both of that age, marriage is always what I suspect by default when a single friend says she has news, or a baby if she’s already wed. Charlotte is unmarried and enough of a traditionalist that I reject pregnancy in favor of nuptials. I know I should be happy for her if that is her big reveal, but I hope to God it’s something else. Not because Charlotte is six years younger than I am and I don’t even
Given that we are both of that age, marriage is always what I suspect by default when a single friend says she has news, or a baby if she’s
boyfriend—it’s because I’m not a fan of her current beau, Zach. Zach is the kind of guy you date in your twenties because he’s beautiful and damaged and you think you can change him. The problem
already damaged you so profoundly that you can’t even imagine the wreck you’ll be if you remain together even one more day, much less ’til death do you part.
Fhhhvb
And Charlotte is nothing if not a romantic in that way. The next possibility my mind runs to is that Charlotte’s news might be employment related. But here there really couldn’t be much for her to say. She just finished her first year of a two-year
It isn’t until I’m coming up from the subway at 110th and Broadway that I consider the possibility that her news might not be good. Could she want to tell me that she’s got some health issue? That she’s pregnant and doesn’t know what to do? I shake off the idea that it could be negative. Bad news doesn’t come with three exclamation points.
the most famous diner in the world because its exterior was used for the coffee shop on Seinfeld. The sign shown on television was on the 112th Street side, where it only says the word Restaurant, but from Broadway it reads TOM’S RESTAURANT. Before Seinfeld, though, Tom’s was immortalized in Suzanne Vega’s eponymous song, and even before
been furious. But I’ve never been able to be mad at Charlotte. Not when I was nine and she was three and she cut my hair when I was asleep; not when I was thirteen and she was seven and she poured chocolate milk in my favorite boots; not when I was sixteen and she was ten and she told Bradley, who was my boyfriend, that I wished Ryan would ask me to the junior prom. Charlotte slides into the booth and sits up straight. When we were younger,
exclamation-point news?” A delicious smile comes across her lips. As if she wants to savor her news before letting it out into the world. “Well,” she finally says, “your . . . sister . . . has . . . just . . . ,” and then she quickly runs through the rest of it, “sold her first novel!” “What?” I say, although I understand completely. I just can’t get my head around it. “Our major assignment is to write a novel. You submit the first half of the
Fvvtres
project, and you’re supposed to finish it your second year. My advisor loved mine so, even though it was unfinished, he sent the chapters I’d written to a friend he knows over at Simon and Schuster . . . long story short, they’re going to publish
jealousy, envy, and anger click by, but I don’t come to rest on any of those things. I finally stop on shame. I’m ashamed of myself. Charlotte has followed her dream, and now it’s coming true. And I, who could have done likewise, chose a safer course. I’m left wishing with all my might that I could go back and redo everything in my life.
pride. My baby sister is going to be a published author. “That’s amazing! I don’t even know what I’m supposed to ask. What’s the book about?” “The pitch was Gone Girl meets Fifty Shades. But at its core, it’s a story about these two sisters—” This sounds an alarm bell. Over the years, Charlotte has written many a roman à clef, including family and friends among her thinly veiled characters. When pressed about the similarities to real people and events, she’s always leaned on the standard disclaimer: “Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.” Despite that, the
hear from readers, and I write back! Dead Certain is my fifth book, and the most fun to write. I hope my enjoyment came through on the page, and I hope that you enjoyed it too. Writing in
