Darcy was catching up with Lucia, who was in Iceland with Gaspard. She had evidently forgiven him for being Belgian, instead of French; plus he loved her and spoiled her rotten. Darcy even noticed that some of the NY harshness in Lu’s speech had softened, she no longer sounded like a Mafia gun moll from the 30s.
“So, Darcy…enough about me. What’s going on with you?” Lucia asked. I sighed, not sure I was ready to talk about it. “Well, I told you I met a guy, and we’ve been going out.”
“Yeah? What’s he like?” “He’s nice; smart, good looking, funny…almost the perfect guy.”
“And the problem with that is? He sounds great.” Lucia squealed. I took a deep breath.
“What, like in tall?”
“No…the other kind of big. Enormous, actually.”
Peals of laughter came flying across the ocean.
“Oh, come on…you make him sound like he has a deformity!”
“Lu, it borders on a deformity. Think baby elephant trunk…the first time I saw it, I screamed.”
“You did not!!”
“Oh, yes I did! I told him that would never, ever make it to the Promised Land.”
“Aww, Darce…what did he say?”
“He looked sad; said he’s had that reaction all his life. Even buying clothes was a problem sometimes”
“Is there anything he can do?”
“It’s not like getting a breast reduction, Lu…No, I don’t think so.”
“So I guess you’re not going to see him again?”
“We’re having dinner tomorrow night.”
She dropped the phone, laughing…I swear she was rolling on the floor.