her, to want to be somewhere where everyone and everything was your size, where things were within your reach and you weren’t struggling all the time to fit in a world that wasn’t built for you.
That was all she wanted. To be back somewhere where no one looked at her strangely, where she fit in. And she knew that place was New York. Sometimes the thought of going back there overwhelmed her—she’d have to find a job, look for an apartment, and be shocked and disgusted at how much she was going to pay for a tiny place. But she could figure it out. She knew where she was supposed to be.
ON THE DAY THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE her wedding day, no one said anything to her. She wouldn’t have forgotten anyway, but all of the places that she and Doug had registered sent her congratulatory e-mails. She had never bothered to take the registries down, or take her e-mail address off the list.
She wondered if Doug had gotten the same e-mails. It was so strange to think that Doug knew nothing about what was happening in her life, and she knew nothing about his. She’d e-mailed him when she left New York, because it had seemed like the right thing to do, to let your former fiancé know that you were going to be living in a different city. He’d written back and wished her luck, but they hadn’t been in contact since.
She wondered what he’d think if he knew that she was living at home still, what he’d say about Max and Cleo having a baby, and about Martha’s trying to get her to go to therapy. She couldn’t imagine what he’d say if he knew that she was acting like a whole different person, smoking cigarettes pretty often, hanging out with Fran, sometimes smoking pot on weeknights just for fun. She would bet he wouldn’t believe it.
When they’d split up their stuff in the apartment, they had both wanted the expensive ceramic Dutch oven that they’d gotten as an engagement gift. It was bright orange and cheerful, and Claire loved it. When they registered, Doug had wanted a blue one, but she fought for the orange. She pointed out that he would eventually be with someone else, and that girl wasn’t going to want something that his ex-fiancée had chosen. He’d looked hurt when she said it, but nodded and let her have it. And she wondered now if he was with someone else, if he also was acting totally different than he had with her. Maybe he was engaged again. He could be married already with a baby on the way. (Okay, sure, it wasn’t likely, but Max and Cleo were proof that things sometimes happened much faster than intended.) She thought about e-mailing him, just to see. But in the end she left it alone. He wasn’t hers to know anymore.
AT THE END OF MAY, they’d all trekked out to a yoga retreat in Ohio for Cathy and Ruth’s wedding. The place was called Bear Den Cottages and they spent the weekend sleeping in cabins, doing Downward Facing Dog, and drinking green tea. She’d told Fran that it was family only, which wasn’t true, but she didn’t want to invite him and anyway, she didn’t think he’d even want to go.
Claire had been dreading this weekend, but surprisingly it wasn’t awful. Even pregnant Cleo seemed to enjoy her sun salutations. And while they all agreed that a lot of it was “hippie nonsense,” as Maureen whispered to them, it was all in all a pretty pleasant trip. And when Claire stood up front with Martha and Cathy, wearing her Driftwood bridesmaid dress that Martha had freaked out over, all she thought was that Cathy and Ruth seemed really happy. And when she realized that this made her feel happy, she was relieved, because she figured that meant she wasn’t a horrible, jealous person after all. And that made her even happier.
HER THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY WAS AT THE BEGINNING of June, and she really meant it when she said she wanted to ignore it. But that wasn’t an option. Lainie insisted on throwing her a party. “We’ll have a barbecue,” she said. “It will be fun.”
“I really don’t feel like having a party,” Claire said.
“Don’t tell me you’re freaking out about turning thirty. Come on. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Fine,” Claire agreed. It seemed easier than trying to fight it. “Fine.”
For three days out