Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,143

that a second kid isn’t in the cards. Right? And if he still can’t get over the other thing, then, well, I don’t know.”

Sam swallowed. “Can I have some wine?” she said.

“Of course. Pour me another glass too?”

Sam did this, emptying the bottle.

She took a long sip. “So,” she said. “I think you’re right. Like you said, having a second child is a huge decision. If you already know you don’t want it to work, like you said, then it seems like a bad position to put yourself in. Not to mention the baby.”

Every word she said was deliberate, meant to emphasize that she wasn’t making recommendations, only responding to what Elisabeth herself had said. Sam knew how these things could go. She didn’t want to get blamed in the end.

Elisabeth nodded. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did.”

They finished their wine. Sam was eager to get home. She had a strange urge to call her mother and tell her what happened, find out if she thought Sam had handled it well. But when Elisabeth suggested they open another bottle, Sam said that sounded great.

An hour later, Elisabeth was wasted. She’d been drinking before Sam got there, Sam remembered, too late. And she weighed practically nothing.

“What did you have for dinner?” Sam said.

“I don’t remember,” Elisabeth said. “Did I have dinner?”

Sam made a pot of spaghetti and forced her to eat a huge bowlful, covered with parmesan and melted butter.

Elisabeth was singing lightly under her breath by the time she was done.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Sam said.

She led Elisabeth upstairs, tucked her in. It was nothing she hadn’t done a million times for Isabella, but it scared her to see Elisabeth like this.

“Sleep well,” Sam said, trying to sound calm. “Good night.”

Elisabeth looked up at her. “You’re the best friend I have here, Sam. I don’t know what I’ll do without you when you’re gone.”

“I know,” Sam said. “I’ll miss you too.”

Moments later, Elisabeth was asleep. She was still wearing her glasses. It seemed too intimate to remove them. But if she left them on Elisabeth’s face, Sam thought, Elisabeth might roll over on them and break the frames.

Sam gently pulled them off, holding her breath.

She placed the glasses on top of Elisabeth’s dresser, where she would easily find them in the morning.

It was possible Sam lingered there longer than was necessary, that she let her eyes scan the jewelry box, the photo of Andrew and Gil in a silver frame, the small pile of lacy things not yet put away. But she didn’t dig. Didn’t open a drawer or even an envelope. The check was sitting right there—made out to Gil, in the amount of three hundred thousand dollars. In the upper-left-hand corner was Elisabeth’s father’s name. Sam wasn’t sure why it filled her with anger, why it made her think of her parents, of Maria and Gaby. Of Elisabeth never considering the cost of paint.

Once she was out of that room, Sam felt strangely free. She wanted to be in her dorm room, with the door open, telling Isabella the whole story.

She made her way down the hall, past Gil’s nursery.

Gil.

He slept through the night now, most nights. But what if he woke up? Would Elisabeth even hear him crying, as drunk as she was?

Sam slipped into the room and lay down on the floor. She felt like crying herself. She rested her head on a giant stuffed rabbit with a satin bow around its neck and willed herself to sleep.

When she woke, the sun was rising. The baby was still asleep.

Sam crept downstairs, and out of the house.

Later, she texted Elisabeth to ask how she was feeling.

Fine! Elisabeth wrote back. Thanks for checking. xx

* * *

—

They saw each other again on Thursday. When Sam arrived for work, Elisabeth was her usual composed self. She said there was chicken and squash in the fridge for Gil’s lunch, and a new music class at the public library at eleven, if they wanted to check it out. She gave the baby a squeeze and a kiss, and was gone.

The next morning was much the same.

By the end of the day, Sam’s curiosity had taken over.

“I’m guessing you stuck with what you said on Monday? You didn’t do any shots this week?”

Elisabeth shook her head. “No.”

“How did Andrew take it?”

“I haven’t told him yet,” she said, looking down at the floor. “He’s had kind of a hard week out there, so I decided to wait and tell him