and she wished she had gone to graduate school. How many units, she thought, would she need around her eyes?
You have it wrong, Jenny, Sloane said, finding the strength in her own misery. I can only promise you that I care about you. That I am devastated by what you’re feeling, by what I did.
Why him?
Sloane didn’t know how to answer. She wanted to scream, What the fuck do you want me to say! That Wes is gorgeous. That he has a wonderful body, that he’s great at sex and amazing in every other way, kind and charming and useful. That he could fix a leaking pipe after we were done in bed. Do you want me to fucking say that? Do you want me to tell you the things you already fucking know?
Were you trying to hurt me? Jenny asked. Look at your face. You’re so quiet. You just pretend something isn’t in front of your face.
Sloane knew what Jenny was talking about. Back in the first year of the restaurant, when Jenny had for a time waited tables, Jenny had done something that hurt Sloane. After a few months of the restaurant being open, Sloane and Richard changed the shifts-offered policy so that the sought-after shifts, weekend brunches and dinners, no longer went to the senior waiters but were instead doled out randomly. Pulling strips of paper out of a hat. Everyone was informed of the change well in advance. But after the first big party of the summer, Jenny got all the waiters together and cornered Sloane. They said, This is unfair, we want it back to how it was. We have been here the longest. Sloane was twenty-five years old. She felt like an animal of prey. But she’d promised herself she would be unflappable. She stood up very straight and told them that she appreciated their feedback and that she would discuss it with Richard. They didn’t change the policy back. Sloane was angry with Jenny, at the unprofessional way she’d handled her disappointment. Perhaps she was angrier than she realized.
Why Wes? Jenny asked again, nearly pleading this time.
The truth was on the tip of Sloane’s tongue. Because he’s hot and because my husband told me to fuck him, okay? Maybe also because you hurt me once, you made me feel attacked and small. Mostly it had to do with fucking someone my husband wanted me to. But she knew she wouldn’t say it. She knew she had to protect Wes and Richard. She didn’t know why, but she felt that she did.
I don’t understand, Jenny.
What don’t you fucking understand? Why do you always pretend you don’t understand? Do you like to act like a robot?
Sloane was, in a way, impressed with how cool this woman was being, how real. Sloane imagined that she herself would play games but Jenny was owning her pain, her questions. She was strong and clear.
The least you can do, Jenny said finally, is to fucking spill it.
Sloane could see that Jenny was serious. That she wanted to hear every detail. But Sloane knew she couldn’t tell a woman the ways in which she had been her man’s fantasy. She was also aware enough to know that she was lucky—that she was her own husband’s fantasy while other women were often not what their husbands thought of to get themselves off in the shower. Richard told her all the time that she was the girl of his dreams. Her hair, chestnut and long; her eyes, glittery and mischievous; her pouting lips; her lanky frame. She knew that for Richard there was even elegance to her age, the way her skin moved against her bones.
Listen, Sloane said, I know how this all looks. I know that if somebody told me this story from your perspective I would think I was a horrible person. I’m not trying to diminish my responsibility here. But I need you to know how sorry I am. I have been brutally affected by this. Once I kind of knew it wasn’t okay with you, I should have contacted you right away.
But you fucking didn’t!
Sloane said, I saw you on the ferry once—you were all laughing. You looked so happy. I thought you’d moved on past it. I didn’t want to dredge shit up—
Moved on? Moved on? You broke us! There is not a minute that goes by that my heart isn’t breaking. I can’t look at him without seeing your body.
Jenny, I care about you so much.
Don’t