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“Never,” she said. “I have one of those lingerie bags so I can throw them in the washing machine.”
Olivia twisted her mouth to the side. “I don’t see what this has to do with you not being fun.”
“I hand-wash my bras twice a week, you guys.”
“Okay?” Olivia said, still looking confused.
“Twice a week! A fun person does not spend two nights of every week hand-washing delicates.”
“But bras are expensive,” Jinny said. “You should take care of them.”
“Maybe I’m tired of always doing what I should,” Penny said with a sigh.
Esther’s eyes lit up and she pointed a finger at Penny. “You need one of those boob sling towels!”
“What’s that?” Vilma asked, looking up.
“It’s like a sling for your boobs that goes around the back of your neck,” Esther said. “But it’s made of towel material, so it’s soft and cozy and absorbs all your underboob sweat. It’s for wearing when you get out of the shower or around the house.”
“Sounds weird,” Cynthia said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
“It would be nice to walk around my house without a bra,” Penny said wistfully. “And without underboob sweat.”
Jinny shrugged. “I do it every night.”
Esther scowled at her. “You people with your reasonably-sized boobs can’t understand what it’s like for the rest of us.”
“Do you do that thing where you tuck your shirt under your boobs?” Penny asked Esther.
“Yes!” Esther nodded vigorously. “All the time!”
“I think this boob sling sounds like heaven,” Vilma murmured as she sipped her wine.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Penny said. “That’s what I need.”
Cynthia’s brow furrowed as she reached for her own wine. “A boob sling?”
“Yes!” Penny gave a decisive nod. “I mean, literally yes, I need one of those. But also metaphorically. I need to get out of my rut and try more things that are different and weird.”
Jinny looked up, grinning. “Are we talking about sex now?”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t have to be.” Penny glanced toward the counter and caught Caleb staring at her. She hastily fixed her eyes back on her knitting. “It could be anything, as long as it’s different.”
“You moved out here,” Olivia said. “That was new and different.”
Penny shook her head. “But I only did it because Brendon would have broken up with me if I hadn’t. It was the safe choice. Or I thought it was, anyway.” She’d been more scared of losing him than moving to a new city. That wasn’t courage, it was desperation. And then she’d lost him anyway.
Penny might have a name that sounded like a storybook heroine, but she’d never acted like one. She’d never been the type of girl who’d follow the rabbit down the hole to Wonderland, or climb out a window after Peter Pan, or go on an unexpected journey with Gandalf and a band of unruly dwarves. She was the girl who left playtime early to do her homework and straighten her room. She’d never take a risk on an uncertain venture. Not on purpose, anyway. That was the problem with life: even the sure things could pull the rug out from under you. So what was the point of always playing it safe?
“I want to be more spontaneous,” Penny said. “Take some risks instead of always sticking to the safer path. I want to hike the steep path and have adventures.” She needed to be like Bilbo: stop fussing over the dwarves’ dirty dishes and go chase dragons with them instead.
“I prefer the safer paths.” Vilma’s gaze drifted to Penny. “There are fewer rockslides on the safe paths.”
“But the views are better on the steep path,” Penny said. “I want better views.”
Esther looked confused. “Are we still talking about men?”
Penny sighed. “I don’t know, you guys, I just feel like I need to try something different. Instead of rearranging my life to suit someone else, I need to focus on getting what I want.”
