Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,23

see him. She had missed him so much.

After dinner, Isabella did her makeup for her, and flat-ironed her hair.

Then it was Sam’s turn to help Isabella.

It was a comfort, having something to take her mind off Clive for a minute.

Sam opened the mini-fridge and pulled out a vial of clear liquid. She filled a syringe.

“Ready?” she said.

“Ready.”

Isabella held up the hem of her blue tank top with one hand and tipped back a tequila shot with the other. Sam poked the needle straight into her taut abdomen, as if throwing a dart.

Isabella winced—from the drink or the pain, Sam wasn’t sure.

She counted to five, pulled out the needle, and dabbed an alcohol swab over the drop of blood that bubbled up.

The process had been a shock the first time they did it three weeks ago, the two of them screaming, bouncing around the room for several minutes beforehand.

Finally, Sam had said, “We have to get it together. Trust me. I can do this. My mother’s a nurse.”

Isabella was selling her eggs to a couple who had advertised in the student paper. They wanted a donor with brown hair and blue eyes, and a grade point average of 3.7 or higher. Isabella had all three, though if they had requested transcripts, they might have noticed that most of her classes were taken in the film department.

She would never meet the couple. The transaction was handled through an agency. Isabella had to provide pictures from various stages of her life.

Sam heard her on the phone.

“Mommy, can you email me some photos from when I was a baby? It’s for a class project thingy.”

Sam didn’t understand why she was doing it. Isabella was wealthier than anyone she’d ever met.

“I’m not rich, my parents are,” Isabella often said, which made no sense.

Sam suggested a campus job if she wanted to earn extra money.

Isabella seemed aghast. “It would take me a year to make what I’m making in less than a month. Besides, this isn’t only about the money. I’m doing it to give back. To share something I have, that someone else needs. Like giving blood. But a much bigger sacrifice, obviously.”

Isabella told anyone who would listen how selfless she was being.

The two of them were randomly assigned to be roommates their first year. Early on, they couldn’t stand each other. But by the time they were deciding who to live with sophomore year, they stayed together by choice. Sam had once thought of her as just an annoying drama queen, but now Isabella was her annoying drama queen.

Perhaps she was donating her eggs for the same reason she did most things. Whenever possible, Isabella needed to be engaged in something exciting, extreme, that superseded the rhythm of her ordinary life. Sam never pointed this out. Their friendship was built on a foundation of mutual acceptance. They supported each other’s decisions, no matter how stupid. So Sam didn’t say that if all went according to plan, a baby would exist who was one-half Isabella’s.

Isabella, in turn, didn’t question Sam’s relationship with Clive. Other friends made it clear that they thought it was odd. Either by asking too many questions, or by never mentioning Clive at all.

Isabella was voluntarily spending the next four nights across the hall in Lexi and Ramona’s room. Ramona hardly ever slept at home. Her girlfriend had a single in the vegan house on Reed Street, so Ramona’s bed was always free. Still, Isabella was making a sacrifice.

Sam had been counting down to those nights alone with Clive, but now that he was almost here, she thought she’d miss Isabella a little. It was like with Gil. When she was babysitting, Sam only ever wanted to get him down for a nap so she could do schoolwork or watch TV. But as soon as he was asleep, she had the urge to wake him, craving his company.

* * *

—

At eight-fifteen, Isabella stood in the crowded hall, scooping sangria from the recycling bin into red plastic cups, using a coffee mug that said WHAT WOULD BEYONCÉ DO? as a ladle.

She rocked back and forth to the music, eyelids at half-mast. She took a swig of sangria straight from the mug whenever she thought no one was looking.

Sam watched her as she sipped a beer. She kept checking the time, as if she might somehow forget Clive’s arrival.

Even just last year, hearing the music coming from such a party, she had wished to be included. But now, it seemed kind of