Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,68
cat in front of her house. It was maybe ten feet long and taller than the tops of her first-floor windows. There were fake cobwebs on the bushes, and orange flashing lights wrapped around the columns on her porch. Tonight, she had added eight jack-o’-lanterns, two on each step, and a sound machine that let out a terrifying laugh every time someone passed by. Elisabeth had never seen anyone go so all out for Halloween. God help them at Christmas.
She had gone inside Debbie’s house last week, for book club. They were discussing Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which they had selected because it was shorter than The Secret History, and there was a movie version they could watch if, as Karen put it, they needed a break from reading.
It was a tamer affair than the first meeting Elisabeth attended, since nobody’s husband was away. They sat around Debbie’s dining room table eating crudités and baba ghanoush and drinking bad wine. Every so often, one of Debbie’s children wandered in and shook the television remote in her direction, which meant they wanted her to come change the channel.
At some point, Elisabeth asked, “Have any of you heard from Gwen?”
They shook their heads.
“That reminds me,” Karen said. “Josh says she forced Christopher to go along with her to Hong Kong because he got into some hot water with a student of his.”
“He’s such a creep,” Stephanie said.
“Tell us more,” Debbie said. “Details!”
“Yes!” the rest of them shouted.
They were reveling in it.
Elisabeth wished she hadn’t raised the subject. She wondered if what the Laurels were saying was true. She couldn’t picture Gwen with a guy like that.
“That’s all I know,” Karen said. “Josh swore me to secrecy, so don’t tell anybody.”
You just told everyone, Elisabeth thought but did not say.
As she was closing her front door now, she saw a woman her age dressed as Princess Leia—a brown wig, a tight white dress with a slit up to her crotch, tall white leather boots underneath. She was walking a dog in a Yoda costume.
Elisabeth remembered what Isabella had said earlier.
She went back toward the kitchen, smiling, thinking that she ought to tell Andrew.
“Do you still want to make burgers?” she said before she realized he was holding up the empty wine bottle.
“How was this?” he said.
“Fine.”
“This is a hundred-dollar Cabernet,” he said.
“No. A hundred dollars?”
“Yeah.”
She could tell he was annoyed, even as he made it sound like it was just something to say.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Were you saving it for something?”
“No, but—it’s one thing when it’s just Sam, a glass at dinner, but should you be getting these kids drunk? Are they even twenty-one?”
“Nobody was drunk,” she said.
“Really? The way you were all laughing when I came in, it kind of sounded like you were.”
“That was the sound of people enjoying themselves, Andrew,” she said. “Sorry if it offended you.”
She took the baby from him and went upstairs.
The doorbell rang three more times, but neither of them answered.
* * *
—
Elisabeth gave Gil his bath and put him to bed. Then she went into the upstairs den and switched on the TV. She wanted dinner, but she was stubborn. After that exchange, Andrew would need to come to her.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Isabella. She had to find a way to talk her out of it. She imagined the woman who was expecting the eggs, who might not get them now because of her. Elisabeth wondered who she was, where she lived, how long she’d been trying.
She herself had spent her late twenties and early thirties debating whether she even wanted children. For years, Elisabeth hoped for a burst of estrogen that would drown out her fears and turn her baby crazy. In the end, she didn’t know what the best answer was, but she could do simple math. The thing about choosing not to was that the door closed eventually. The thing about choosing to was that the door would never close.
How many choices had she made in her life to avoid having regrets later on?
The deliberation lasted so long that she somehow convinced herself it would be the hardest part. Everyone around her was pregnant, or had recently been pregnant, or both. Nomi had Alex by then, and was trying for a second.
Elisabeth woke one morning to a photo of three home pregnancy tests on her phone, above the words: It’s faint, but I think I see a double line. Do you??? Or is it a pee line? (The