# Read the first page of Little Earthquakes by Jennifer Weiner

Read the opening of Little Earthquakes by Jennifer Weiner free, no signup. Young mothers in Philadelphia bond through the upheaval of new babies.

- Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/little-earthquakes-jennifer-weiner
- Genre: Women's fiction
- Year: 2005
- ISBN: 9780743470100
- Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9780743470100&s=read-page
- Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9780743470100
- Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9780743470100

## The opening

I watched her for three days, sitting by myself in the park underneath an elm tree, beside an empty fountain with a series of uneaten sandwiches in my lap and my purse at my side.

Purse. It's not a purse, really. Before, I had purses—a fake Prada bag, a real Chanel baguette Sam had bought me for my birthday. What I have now is a gigantic, pink, floral-printed Vera Bradley bag big enough to hold a human head. If this bag were a person, it would be somebody's dowdy, gray-haired great-aunt, smelling of mothballs and butterscotch candies and insisting on pinching your cheeks. It's horrific. But nobody notices it any more than they notice me.

Once upon a time, I might have taken steps to assure that I'd be invisible: a pulled-down baseball cap or a hooded sweatshirt to help me dodge the questions that always began Hey, aren't you? and always ended with a name that wasn't mine. No, wait, don't sell me. Didn't I see you in something? Don't I know who you are?

Now, nobody stares, and nobody asks, and nobody spares me so much as a second glance. I might as well be a piece of furniture. Last week a squirrel ran over my foot.

But that's okay. That's good. I'm not here to be seen; I'm here to watch. Usually it's three o'clock or so when she shows up. I set aside my sandwich and hold the bag tightly against me like a pillow or a pet, and I stare.

At first I couldn't really tell anything, but yesterday she stopped halfway past my fountain and stretched with her hands pressing the small of her back. I did that, I thought, feeling my throat close. I did that, too. I used to love this park. Growing up in Northeast Philadelphia, my father would take me into town three times each year. We'd go to the zoo in the summer, to the flower show each spring, and to Wanamaker's for the Christmas light show in December. He'd buy me a treat—a hot chocolate, a strawberry ice cream cone—and we'd sit on a bench, and my father would make up stories about the people walking by. A teenager with a backpack was a rock star in disguise; a blue-haired lady in an ankle-length fur coat was carrying secrets for the Russians. When I was on the plane, somewhere over Virginia, I thought about this park, and the taste of strawberries and chocolate, and my father's arm around me. I thought I'd feel safe here. I was wrong. Every time I blinked, every time I breathed, I could feel the ground beneath me wobble and slide sideways. I could feel things starting to break. It had been this way since it happened. Nothing could make me feel safe. Not my husband, Sam, holding me, not the sad-eyed, sweet-voiced therapist he'd found, the one who'd told me, "Nothing but time will really help, and you just have to get through one day at a time." That's what we'd been doing. Getting through the days. Eating food without tasting it, throwing out the Styrofoam containers. Brushing our teeth and making the bed. On a Wednesday afternoon, three weeks after it happened, Sam had suggested a movie. He'd laid out clothes for me to wear—lime-green linen capris that I still couldn't quite zip, an ivory silk blouse with pink-ribbon embroidery, a pair of pink slides. When I'd picked up the diaper bag by the door, Sam had looked at me strangely, but he hadn't said anything. I'd been carrying it instead of a purse before, and I'd kept right on carrying it after, like a teddy bear or a well-loved blanket, like something I loved that I couldn't bring myself to let go. I was fine getting into the car.

## Books with a similar feel
- [Heart of the Matter by Emily Giffin](https://uncovered.ink/read/heart-of-the-matter-emily-giffin.md)
- [Angels by Marian Keyes](https://uncovered.ink/read/angels-marian-keyes.md)
- [The Language of Sisters by Amy Hatvany](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-language-of-sisters-amy-hatvany.md)
- [Precious Gifts by Danielle Steel](https://uncovered.ink/read/precious-gifts-danielle-steel.md)
- [Lessons by Ian McEwan](https://uncovered.ink/read/lessons-ian-mcewan.md)
- [Digging to America by Anne Tyler](https://uncovered.ink/read/digging-to-america-anne-tyler.md)

---
Source: Uncovered (https://uncovered.ink). A short sample shown for reading and discovery. Rights holders can request removal at https://uncovered.ink/takedown.