Dear Valentina [The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel]

☆ Chapter Seven: A Widow Walks Into a Bar

CHAPTER SEVEN.      A WIDOW WALKS INTO A BAR

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     It was as if the air got cleaner the moment you entered Lenox Hill. Valerie always noticed this whenever she (albeit begrudgingly) ventured into the affluent neighborhood. The air became easier to breath, the grass was greener, and the residents were able to walk their dog down the sidewalk without fear of their overpriced pouch getting snatched. Admittedly, despite her unfamiliarity and discomfort, the twenty-six year old always enjoyed the long drive from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side where the rusty, torpid exterior of her corner of New York transitioned into quaint flashes of opulent living. Originally, it had be very hard to imagine Mark growing up in an area like this, with him so able to connect with anyone, no matter where they came from, and never possessing a judgmental bone in his body. When she first met him, she assumed immediately he grew up like her — a bustling middle-class community filled with blue collar workers. Her assumptions slowly withered once she met his parents at Midge's wedding, and completely disintegrated once he introduced her to his childhood home. 

     As the yellow cab cruised down East 68th Street, Valerie rolled down her window and bowed her head towards the incoming breeze, big eyes scanning the verdant displays of mid-road gardens, short limestone buildings in mid-construction, and glass crafted shopping centers. The acclaimed hospital of the district's name stood proudly against the bright sky backdrop a couple of streets away. With a little self-disdain, the blonde wondered if she would be happier living in a place like this, in a building or house where the pipes didn't leak and your neighbors weren't shoulder-to-shoulder with you. It wasn't the first time this curious question had crossed her mind, and every time she swiftly dismissed it. She wasn't raised to want the high-life, to yearn for a house two-sizes bigger than necessary or a flashy sports car to drive around aimlessly. A room with four walls, a bathroom, and a mattress was good enough for generations of their family, and the O'Donovans didn't need much else, as her father would sometimes remark, add in kind people in your life and whiskey, and why hope for anything more? Sometimes though Valerie wished she was a little more like Midge, who lounged in expenses and frivolous taste, and knew how to enjoy the luxuries of life, even if she didn't realize they were indeed luxuries. 

    In spite of her faint queries, she couldn't honestly imagine enjoying living a life in a rich neighborhood, in a grand townhouse or paying a mortgage to some house on the outskirts. It wasn't how she was brought up, and she remembered with a grimace how every time she stepped inside the Palderos' home, she felt like she was in a museum and couldn't touch or spill anything without paying for it. She would never be comfortable, neither would have Mark, who tried so hard to distance himself from the lifestyle he grew up in.