Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,80
assistant shrugged in such a way that Sam wondered if he knew what fraud meant.
She and Isabella continued drinking vodka. When Isabella started licking the guy’s ear, Sam took a pillow and went to sleep across the hall in Ramona and Lexi’s room.
The stripper’s assistant wasn’t someone she had expected to see again. But here he was, with, Sam saw now, a huge bottle of beer duct-taped to each of his hands. They all had bottles taped to them like that.
“Sam,” Isabella said. “Have you ever played Edward Fortyhands? Play with us!”
Sam stood still in the doorway.
“Can you not sit on my bed, please?” she said.
“She seems fun,” one of the guys said.
“Shut up,” Isabella said. “It’s her room.”
Sam missed Clive. She wanted to be in their flat in London, curled up on the couch beside him, watching TV.
“I thought you were going to that concert,” she said.
“Lexi’s too hungover,” Isabella said. “And I don’t feel like a crowd. Oh shit. Your movie marathon. I forgot. Can you watch it downstairs in the living room? We ordered pizza.”
Sam stepped backward into the hall, then slammed the door. She stood there for a few moments, heart thudding in her chest. Inside her room, someone whispered something and they all laughed. For an instant, she despised Isabella.
It wasn’t Isabella’s fault, though. Their living situation was unnatural. Sam couldn’t stand it anymore. She thought of George, with his piles of paper, his discussion group. She couldn’t wait to go and be among people who lived beyond this bubble.
A text message from Gaby arrived then.
Don’t worry about it.
Sam stared at the screen, hoping Gaby would say more. But she didn’t.
Sam felt horrible. She typed out a long, rambling excuse and then deleted it. She responded instead with just a heart.
She went outside and walked down Main, to Laurel. She stood there for twenty minutes, until she saw Elisabeth’s porch light go on, and then her small frame, in shadow, coming down the stairs, breaking into a run.
It was maybe forty-five seconds until she got to the corner. Elisabeth passed Sam at first, then turned right back.
“Hey!” she called. “Where are you off to?”
“Hi,” Sam said, attempting nonchalance. “I decided to take a walk.”
Then, for no good reason, she started to cry.
“Sam!” Elisabeth said, hugging her. “What happened?”
“Nothing. It’s silly.”
“Stay here,” Elisabeth said. “I’ll be right back. Let me take you to dinner.”
“No,” Sam said. “You were going for a run. I don’t want to disrupt your plans.”
Though Elisabeth’s offer was precisely what she wanted.
“We can try that Italian place, Casa Roma,” Elisabeth said. “It’s supposed to be good, right? Have you been?”
“Never.”
Casa Roma was the kind of restaurant one only went to with visiting parents.
“This is so nice of you,” Sam said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Andrew could use a little alone time with Gil. And I could stand to go out for once.”
An hour later, they had finished a bottle of wine and decided to order two more glasses to have with their entrées.
“Much more responsible than a second bottle,” Elisabeth said.
“When I was a kid, we were never allowed to order a drink in a restaurant,” Sam said. “I still feel so indulgent whenever I do it, even if it’s just a Coke. I expect my mother to pop out from behind a curtain and yell, ‘You’re having water!’ ”
Elisabeth smiled. “Oh yes, I remember that too.”
Sam got chicken Parmesan. It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
She took a giant bite, just as Elisabeth asked, “Is Clive your first love?”
Sam shook her head, mouth full. After she swallowed, she said, “Sanjeev. My high school boyfriend. When he broke it off with me I thought I would die. I mean that literally. I lay on the floor in a ball. I didn’t eat for days. No other life event has ever made me not eat.”
The last time she saw him was right before she visited Isabella in London. Sam had only recently stopped thinking of him every day then, and there he was, emailing to see if she’d like to meet for dinner. She found that she didn’t like him as much as she used to—he bragged a lot, and his hair had gotten too shaggy. But at the end of the night, he hugged her. He smelled the same. She got into her car and cried. Meeting Clive had released her from all that.
“I almost envy that feeling now,” Elisabeth said. “I’ve been through it. I know it’s the