At the party to celebrate Kalikow’s buying the Post from Murdoch on Friday night, Teresa got very, very drunk. The lawyer started coming on to her, and Teresa says they were nuzzling and petting at the restaurant. “It felt good,” she told me. He took her home, where she got violently ill and couldn’t remember anything the next morning.
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This morning Teresa spoke to Eric, and I could hear them having a fight about his not calling over the weekend. Eric called her back just a minute after Teresa had left for work, and I ran out to the street to find her. When I said he was on the phone, she said, “Tell him to go to hell.”
We followed the crowds out of the park, up Central Park West and across 86th Street. Ronna seemed annoyed with me because when I said, “I’ll see you before I leave for MacDowell,” she said, “Maybe.” Probably she does have reason to be angry with me; I’m always leaving her.