Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,22

a nest egg to pull from, to keep them safe. She justified this in the following manner: until he asked outright and she had to answer, she had not lied. There was time to fix it.

It was too late now to tell him the truth. He had quit his job, taken a huge risk, believing they had a cushion. He would be terrified, furious, if he knew.

Elisabeth had betrayed him to help her sister. Her sister, who on the day Gil was born had posted to Instagram a photo of herself on the beach at sunset, naked, in child’s pose.

Balasana…the breath of new life. Today a child came into this world, made of the same stuff as me—the energy extends, the wisdom renews. Did my infancy ever cease? I am my own baby, soft and amazed. I vow to nurture and care for myself, a precious soul meeting the universe, yet again.

“Is she trying to make it seem like she had a baby?” Elisabeth had demanded at the time.

“Is she actually wearing no clothes?” Andrew said.

It was another six hours before Charlotte bothered to text them and say congrats.

Even in her moments of deepest regret, Elisabeth remained pleased that sending the money had kept Charlotte on her side in the family war. This was the only thing she really liked about her sister, but it mattered more than everything else combined.

* * *

—

That night, she couldn’t sleep.

Andrew snored beside her. She picked up her phone, went straight to BK Mamas.

Someone had asked for recommendations for a coffee shop to write in. A topic she knew well.

Café Harmony is my go-to, Elisabeth responded. Perfect ambience, best latte in Brooklyn, and they never rush you out.

She posted her reply, picturing herself there, alone in a rush of bodies.

Mimi Winchester responded right away. Harmony closed two weeks ago. Try Kelly’s on Court.

Elisabeth had known Mimi a bit in her twenties, when they both worked in magazines. Mimi was a hustler then, but she had married a hedge-fund guy and now only wrote an article every six months or so, usually a puff piece about a cosmetics line or clothing company run by one of her friends. She would post a link on BK Mamas saying something like Just for funsies!

Once, Mimi had come upon Elisabeth sitting alone on a bench in Carroll Park. Elisabeth was shaking a can of formula, pouring the thick grayish liquid into a bottle for Gil, who was crying in the stroller.

“Oh my gosh, you adopted? That’s so admirable!” Mimi said.

Elisabeth was almost certain she wasn’t trying to be awful. It just had not occurred to her that a biological mother would do anything but breastfeed.

She wanted to say every mean thing she’d ever thought about Mimi then.

She had hoped the pettiest parts of her, all her foolish insecurities, would somehow be erased by motherhood. At first, she thought it had happened. But they returned when Gil was eight weeks old, like so many uninvited guests.

Café Harmony had closed, and Mimi needed her to know. Why should something as small as that unnerve her? But it did. Elisabeth felt like she’d had her hand slapped.

4

Sam

AT THE END OF EVERY HALLWAY in the dorms was a short flight of stairs that led to four rooms—two large doubles on either side. These were called the platforms. Only seniors were allowed to live in platform rooms, and only they got invited to platform preparties on Friday nights.

Tonight, their platform was hosting. Isabella had made sangria in the recycling bin ahead of time. The too-sweet smell of it filled the room.

Hosting was supposed to be a big deal, but Sam hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. Clive’s flight from London was due in at ten.

Isabella had offered to let Sam take her car to the airport, but it was too nice. It made Sam nervous. Instead she had begged Steph, who managed the basketball team, to let her use the beat-up van they took to away games. Sam had never driven a van, but this she had not mentioned when she made the request.

All week, she had been nervous and excited in equal parts. Her palms hadn’t stopped sweating since Tuesday. Her stomach was a mess. It was impossible to imagine Clive here, among her friends. As Isabella had put it, “You simply cannot bring a six-foot-five British man into the dining hall without raising eyebrows.”

Sam didn’t want to be a topic of conversation. And yet, she couldn’t wait to