all weekend, which was really annoying. It was one thing to have to talk to people at work, but on Saturday and Sunday, she wanted peace. The first call was from her sister, Martha, reporting that a meth lab had been busted on the Upper West Side. Martha assumed that the meth lab was right next to Claire’s apartment, possibly in the very same building. Martha left messages like this a few times a week. It was almost as if she searched for bad news to share, almost as if she liked it.
Her mom had called twice more, asking about the shore. Claire didn’t even have to listen to the messages to know what they were about. Weezy wasn’t going to stop until she got the answer that she wanted.
Her friend Lainie had also called three times, but hadn’t left any messages. Lainie never left messages; she got too impatient waiting for the beep to come. Claire wasn’t that concerned, because if it was a real emergency, Lainie would text her. But when her number came up a fourth time, Claire answered.
“You sound miserable,” Lainie said. She didn’t even say hello. She was never one to sugarcoat things. Once in high school, when Claire was obsessing over a giant pimple on her forehead, searching for some sort of reassurance that it wasn’t as bad as she thought, Lainie had said, “Yeah, it’s huge, but what are you going to do? Stay in your house until it’s gone? Everyone knows you don’t normally look like that.”
“Well, hello to you too,” Claire said now.
“Hi,” Lainie said. She spoke quickly. “So what’s going on? You sound awful.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You sound like someone died. Katherine thinks you’re depressed.”
“Katherine thinks everyone’s depressed.”
“Fair enough.” Lainie knew this was true. Katherine loved therapy, thought everyone should be in it, and had encouraged Lainie to see someone after she gave birth to each of her children, just in case she developed postpartum depression.
“I’m fine,” Claire said again. She felt awkward on the phone with Lainie, like they were dancing on the offbeat of a song. They hadn’t talked much since Doug moved out. Lainie had her third baby the month after, and was available only for quick calls, in which she often mentioned that her life was full of poop and that she sometimes forgot to brush her teeth. Claire was used to this, the way Lainie disappeared for a little while when each of her boys was born. She wasn’t surprised by it anymore, or even hurt. It was just the way things happened, and Lainie always resurfaced after a few months. Just because this last baby had come at an inconvenient time for Claire, a time when she could have used her best friend, there wasn’t anything she could do about it, except wait.
“Are you sure?” Lainie was saying.
“Yeah, I’m just … You know, trying to adjust, I guess.”
“It’s been six months.” Lainie didn’t say this unkindly, but it still made Claire’s throat tighten up.
“I know. It’s just weird, okay? It just sucks.” Claire heard a baby crying, and Lainie sighed. Claire could tell that Lainie was picking Matthew up and bouncing him around, trying to get him to quiet down.
“I know, I know,” Lainie said. But she didn’t.
“I just have to figure a bunch of stuff out. I just never feel like doing anything. I have to move, I have to do tons of things, and I just feel like I can’t.”
Lainie was silent for a moment. “Maybe I’ll come up to see you this weekend.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. That’s what we’ll do. I could come tomorrow and stay the night. It’s a three-day weekend and Brian can watch the boys. We’ll figure it all out. We’ll find an apartment, get you signed up for online dating.”
“Funny,” Claire said. But then she did let out a little laugh.
“I’m serious. We’ll get it all figured out.” Claire knew that Lainie was only half kidding. Lainie liked to solve problems and she probably thought she could come up for one weekend and easily sort out Claire’s mess. Which was just a little obnoxious, but Claire didn’t mind.
“IT’S AMAZING, REALLY,” LAINIE SAID, “that this place hasn’t driven you crazy yet.” She dropped her bag on the floor and looked around at the apartment. Claire had to admit it didn’t look good. When Doug had packed up all of his stuff, it became clear that almost everything in the apartment was his. They’d both known this, of course, but