for weeks from friends. But the thought exhausted her.
Elisabeth had the urge to text Sam, but that would be strange, wouldn’t it, reaching out to her at home?
She texted Nomi instead: I hate Christmas.
Fa la la la la! Nomi wrote back.
12
TWO WEEKS PASSED IN A HAZE of shopping for presents nobody needed and going to parties no one wished to attend.
At Andrew’s office gathering, people stood around cubicles, making forced conversation—men and women who spent all day together as it was, and their spouses, who weren’t overly interested in knowing one another, plus the student workers from the lab, who were just there for the free beer.
The goth couple whose wedding they had attended in November showed everyone cell-phone pictures of their honeymoon in Reno.
Bowls of pretzels and M&M’s sat on the conference room table, like it was a nine-year-old’s birthday party.
Elisabeth talked to a junior with a handlebar mustache. He told her he’d grown it to play Ophelia in a gender-blind production of Hamlet.
“The director wants us to really lean into it,” he said.
She remembered then, Andrew coming home and telling her about it, saying, “I’m probably not smart enough to understand, but can’t they just do Bye Bye Birdie for once?”
Elisabeth told the kid that she and Andrew couldn’t wait to see the show.
“Andrew’s the best,” he said. “We all love being on his project. He’s a really good mentor, you know.”
She nodded, though she actually hadn’t known until then.
Starting the day after Thanksgiving, whenever Elisabeth ran into any of her neighbors, they mentioned Stephanie Preston’s annual holiday bash. Debbie pronounced it legendary.
Elisabeth was trying to think of an excuse for why she couldn’t go, when Debbie mentioned that Gwen would be there.
“She’s back from China,” Debbie said. “Her husband, Christopher, have you met him? He came home early, apparently. She ended up cutting her trip short. Probably wise not to leave Christopher home alone too long, if you know what I mean.”
Stephanie sent paper invitations with RSVP cards. The postage stamp was a miniature photograph of her kids eating candy canes.
Adults only. Formal attire required.
“So, not my ugly Christmas sweater then?” Andrew said as they got ready.
“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars,” she said.
Elisabeth wore a royal-blue fitted dress with three-quarter-length sleeves, and nude heels. Taking in her reflection in the bedroom mirror, she felt pleased. She looked almost exactly like her old self, dressed up for a night out. Her hair was getting long, but she was afraid to let anyone around here touch it. Soon they would go back to the city for a visit, and she’d see Zachary, who had been cutting her hair for a decade.
Since Sam was gone and they weren’t going far, they’d asked Faye to babysit.
Gil was already in bed when she arrived.
“If he wakes up, call me and we’ll come right back,” Elisabeth said. “We’re only a few houses away.”
Faye rolled her eyes.
“Go,” she said.
Elisabeth and Andrew descended the front steps and walked to the curb.
“A rare moment alone together,” he said.
She smiled, nodded.
Neither of them said anything after that.
They used to sit across from each other in restaurants four or five nights a week, and just talk. Now she struggled to think of something to say that wasn’t about Gil. Her thoughts spiraled—were they content? Would they go the distance? Or when Gil was old enough to stop needing them, would they realize there was no them anymore?
What constituted a happy marriage?
At Stephanie’s house, the front door was cracked open. The sounds of the party drifted outside.
There was a table in the front hall covered with blank name tags and Sharpies. A sign in a plastic frame read WELCOME! PLEASE TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES AND LEAVE THEM AT THE DOOR. YES, WE’RE THOSE PEOPLE.
“I’m not taking my shoes off,” Elisabeth said. “My toes look awful. This dress will look all wrong with bare feet.”
“I support you,” Andrew said.
He bent to fill out a name tag, then stuck it to her chest.
Elisabeth looked down at what he’d written: Yes, I’m THAT person.
She peeled the sticker off.
They hung their coats on a rack beside the table. The banister leading upstairs was wrapped in fake green garland. A plastic Santa the size of a small child stared at them.
Laughter traveled out from the kitchen.
“We don’t have to stay long, right?” she said.
“Really? I was hoping we’d be here all night,” he said. “Seriously, though, let’s try to have a good time, okay?”
“Yeah,” she said.
Stephanie popped into the hallway, in