Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,96
recognize you from,” she said. “I was on campus at the start of the school year to hang a flyer, and you were talking to some poor girl whose grandmother had died.”
His expression was blank.
“At College Hall. She wanted an extension on a paper,” she said.
“You wouldn’t believe how many grandmothers die the day a paper is due,” he said. “That, and midterms, appear to be the leading causes of death among grandparents, as far as I can tell.”
He didn’t smile. Gwen laughed, to make it clear that he was trying to be funny.
The look on Andrew’s face matched the way Elisabeth felt. It made her want to kiss him. Maybe the definition of a happy marriage was simply not wishing you were married to anyone’s husband but your own.
“We should get going before the baby wakes up and my mom decides to give him a cupcake instead of the bottle we left in the fridge,” Andrew said.
“Oh no,” Gwen said.
“Do you guys have kids?”
It surprised Elisabeth that Andrew would ask that question, the question they themselves hated being asked for so long.
“We don’t,” Gwen said.
“Smart people,” Andrew said. “You probably get to sleep past five a.m. on a Saturday.”
She gave him a look. Had he forgotten already?
“Five would constitute sleeping in for me,” Christopher said.
“He’s a big cyclist,” Gwen said. “He sometimes does sixty miles in a day.”
“That’s—impressive,” Elisabeth said.
She wondered if all that cycling might contribute to low sperm count.
They wouldn’t be couple friends, that much was clear. But still, she liked Gwen.
“We should get together now that you’re back,” Elisabeth said.
“I’d love that.”
The voices in the kitchen had grown louder. Stephanie’s laugh rose to a cackle.
“I suppose I should thank her and say goodbye,” Elisabeth said. “But I don’t want to go back in there.”
“I’ll tell her you had to get home to your sitter,” Gwen said.
“Bless you.”
Gwen followed them to the door and wrote her contact information on a leftover name tag. Elisabeth did the same.
“I’m so happy to run into you again,” Gwen said. “This reminds me. My friend would love to have you speak to her class if you’re still willing.”
“Anytime,” Elisabeth said. “Have her email me.”
On the walk home, Andrew said she should be careful blabbing about Sam and her plans for next year.
“I got carried away,” she said. “The gin. But while we’re on the topic of subjects to avoid in casual conversation, don’t you remember how hard it was when we were trying and people just assumed we didn’t want kids?”
Andrew looked back toward Stephanie’s house. “Those two? You sure?”
“She didn’t say anything, but I have a feeling.”
“They don’t seem like the type.”
Elisabeth dropped the name tag Gwen had handed her into her purse. It sank to the bottom, drawn down into a stew of loose change and drugstore receipts and linty pacifiers, where it would remain for the next five months.
* * *
—
Charlotte had taken a week to get back to her about the holiday. Finally, she agreed to come if Elisabeth could help with her travel expenses. Elisabeth sent a check for four hundred dollars to help offset the cost of her flight, which Charlotte acknowledged with a text saying You’re the best! Followed by an emoji of a winky face blowing a kiss.
Let’s avoid any money talk in front of Andrew when you get here, okay? she replied. Things are kind of tense on that front.
Charlotte’s response was a sad face, which Elisabeth took to mean I’m sorry to hear that.
Her sister brought conch fritters packed in dry ice. She was so tan, the color of a Barbie. She drank too much on Christmas Eve when the three of them, plus the baby, went out for dinner. Charlotte carried on about how idyllic life on Turks was, while in the same breath mourning the loss of a trust-fund kid turned scuba instructor who went for a night swim and got eaten by wild dogs.
“He was a good friend of Davey’s,” she said. “It hit him hard.”
“Who’s Davey?” Elisabeth said.
“Davey,” Charlotte said, as if it were obvious, as if Davey were their brother. “I told you about him. He’s getting here tomorrow afternoon.”
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone.”
“Will he be joining us for lunch?” Andrew said.
His tone was bright, but Elisabeth could tell he was calculating whether they had enough food.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “He wouldn’t miss it. I told him what a great cook you are.”
Andrew tried to hide how proud the comment made him.