When Life Gives You Lululemons

by Lauren Weisberger

  She called the office and asked for accounting. If she had to tell a small white lie and mention something about power of attorney in order to get the information, she would—after all, Karolina had given her permission to investigate—but the young woman who answered sounded bored, overworked, and interested only in getting off the phone as quickly as possible.

  “Hello, I’m a lawyer representing the Hartwell family. Karolina Hartwell has asked me to settle any unpaid pills, and I have something here that reads ‘Unspecified’ with code number 394. Could you please tell me what that was for?”

  “Yeah, one sec.” The account girl put her on hold. She was back about two minutes later. “Is that invoice number 635380101?”

  Miriam scanned the bill. “Yes.”

  The sound of typing came through the phone. “That’s super-old. Like, five years ago old. And I show here that it was paid. In full at the time of treatment. In cash, actually. So I’m not sure why you even have a bill.”

  Interesting. Miriam said, “This is from Blue Cross. And now that you mention it, it isn’t a bill, it’s a statement. And I didn’t realize how old it was. Sorry about that.”

  “No problem,” the girl said, although she wasn’t convincing.

  “Just one thing: what was the procedure that took place? I need to make sure I’ve accounted for the correct one,” Miriam said, stringing together a bunch of nonsense words in what she hoped sounded like an authoritative voice.

  “The code listed here is for a laparoscopic inguinal hernia repair.”

  “Oh, okay,” Miriam said, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Thanks for your help.”

  She was just about to hang up when the girl said, “Wait. Oh, never mind, it’s nothing.”

  “What’s nothing?”

  “It says here they also did a vasectomy. But they didn’t code it separately, so it didn’t show up on the statement. Whatever. They tack the vasectomies on to a lot of the hernia surgeries these days, it’s not a big deal.”

  Miriam nearly dropped the phone but took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm as the girl continued. She thanked her lucky stars that this person appeared never to have heard of HIPAA. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. Says so right here. October nineteenth, 2013. Performed by Dr. Hershberg at Mount Sinai at eight-thirty in the morning.”

  “Got it. Okay. Thank you so much. You’ve been very helpful.” Miriam quickly hung up before she could say anything suspicious.

  It was unfathomable. Had he been sitting across from her, she may have murdered him.

  Violating every ethical/professional bone in her body, she reflexively dialed Emily, not Karolina.

  “Why are you calling me? What couldn’t be discussed over text?”

  “Graham had a vasectomy.”

  “What!”

  “A vasectomy! He got snipped! Like, permanently.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just got off the phone with the doctor’s office. He did it five years ago. Right when Karolina was trying to get pregnant! Getting IVF shots!”

  “Christ. He’s such a scumbag!”

  Miriam smacked the table so hard her coffee splashed over the side. People around her stared, but she didn’t care. “Karolina still doesn’t know! You’re my first call.”

  “No way, Miriam. Not me. You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to be the one to tell her this.”

  “You wanted the dirt!”

  “You’re her lawyer. And a friend since childhood. I’m her freaking image consultant! You think I should be talking to her about her husband’s surprise snipping?”

  “Emily. I’m just saying that we are both helping her recover from this, so we should tell her together.”

  Emily laughed. Not nicely. “No, thank you. Did I tell you I tripped over Ashley’s husband climbing all over some teenager? My policy is no drama. No way.”

  “Wait—what?”

  “Ashley? Your friend?”

  “Yes—I know. I meant . . . you saw her husband flirting with a teenager?”

  “No.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Not flirting. Fucking. Pardon the crassness, but there’s really no other way to describe it.”

  Miriam rested her head in her palm. Her skull was suddenly throbbing sharply on one side. “You’re sure? Where? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “At that weird Eyes Wide Shut party she dragged me to. And I didn’t tell you because I don’t want any involvement whatsoever. But it was him.”

  “Oh God. What do I do?” Miriam moaned.

  “Nothing! You do nothing! This has nothing to do with you. She’ll hate you if they get divorced because she’ll be convinced it was somehow your fault, however irrational that is. And she’ll hate you if they stay together because she knows you know this humiliating thing about her. Trust me. The only way to play this one is to pretend you don’t know a goddamn thing.”

  “She’s already worried he’s cheating. She found his email address on the Ashley Madison leak site.”

  “Shocking.”

  “Emily!”

  “Do nothing. Karolina, though, you have to tell. I’ve always felt she doesn’t hate Graham as much as she should in light of what he’s done to her. This will help that. Plus, you’re her lawyer.”

  Miriam’s stomach dropped. Her call waiting rang. “Em?” she said. “It’s Paul. I’ve got to run.”

  “Okay. Let me know how it goes.”

  Miriam clicked over. “Paul? Hey, where are you?”

  “Outside. And I’m double-parked in a no-standing, so can you come out?”

  “I need a second to pack up and everything.”

  “If I’m not here, I’m circling the block and I’ll be right back.” And he hung up.

  Okay, then. He was a half hour early and she still had a list of things to do, but she packed up her laptop and papers and threw out her coffee. He wasn’t outside when she got to the sidewalk, but he pulled up within a minute. In the red Maserati. With the top down despite the chilly day, music blaring. At least a dozen people on both sides of Bleecker turned to look.

  “Can you turn that down?” she asked, trying not to sound as peeved as she felt.

  “It would be criminal to turn down a sound system like this,” Paul said, not noticing her irritation.

  “Everyone’s staring.” She knew this was New York and no one remotely cared what car she and her husband were driving, but she hated feeling so conspicuous.

  “Who cares? Come on, get in before I get a ticket.”

  Miriam tossed her laptop bag in the back—which was about all that could fit—and got into the passenger seat. The leather felt cold but plush, and the music beat in her chest.

  Paul leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi.”

  “Hi. Are you still up for Corner Bistro? I’m dying for a decent burger.”

  “Can’t,” he said. “I have to jump on a call before we go to the conference.” He started weaving around cars and taxis in an aggressive way, in and out of his lane with no turn signals and no regard for right of way.

  “Paul—”

  “What? I’m driving like a New Yorker.”

  They didn’t say another word until they were on the West Side Highway, first passing Chelsea Piers and then the giant lot where the city stored all the towed cars and finally stopping at a red light next to the Intrepid.

  “Can we put the top up? I’m freezing,” Miriam said.

  Paul looked displeased. “Sure.” He punched a button and the convertible instantaneously did its thing.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He glanced over. Looking nervous? Dubious? Or was she imagining it?

  “What do you know about Eric?”

  He squinted almost imperceptibly but kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “In terms of?”

  “Paul.”

  “What? That’s a really vague question. I don’t know him that we
ll at all. He’s made a decent effort to be friendly. He’s called me to come over for poker nights and that kind of thing. You know that.”

  “Yes, but has he told you anything about . . . him and Ashley?”

  Paul smiled. “I’ve told you before, honey. Guys don’t talk like that. We don’t sit around talking about feelings. Or our marriages.”

  “So you don’t know . . . anything?”

  Paul gazed ahead, but Miriam could’ve sworn she saw the briefest flicker. “Anything about what? Whether or not he’s happy with her? No.”

  “Or if he’s cheating on her?”

  Paul shook his head. “He’s just a local guy, I’d barely call him a friend. I’m not saying he is or he isn’t cheating, just that he’s not telling me about it either way. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  “Whatever is going on, don’t get involved. These things never end well.”

  “That’s exactly what Emily said.”

  “Well, then she’s smarter than I give her credit for.”

  Miriam considered Emily’s noninvolvement policy. If Paul were cheating, she would want to know . . . wouldn’t she? Although she could think of a few scenarios in which she actually might not want to know. How could she decide whether Ashley would or wouldn’t want to know? She sighed, which Paul didn’t seem to notice, and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

  • • •

  Later that night, as Miriam was tucking Benjamin into bed, he asked her to get under the covers and snuggle with him. How long had it been since he’d allowed this? she wondered. Six months? Longer? She nuzzled her face into his neck and breathed in his smell. Some days, as a stay-at-home mom, she wanted to slam her head against a wall from the monotony, but she couldn’t deny the comfort from moments like this—moments she rarely had when working eighty-hour weeks.

  When she closed his door behind her, Paul was waiting in the hallway.

  “Twins down?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I’m going to hit my computer for a couple hours. I have some work to catch up on.”

  Miriam was quiet for a second. “What about dinner? I brought home enough rolls from Yama to feed ten people.”

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  Time to trawl your Ashley Madison account? she thought. Forcing herself to act normally, she stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, hoping for a quick make-out, but he wriggled away and murmured something about a call.

  “Even our son lets me kiss him,” she murmured, but he pretended not to hear and walked downstairs. She was standing there, unsure what to do next, when her phone rang.

  “Miriam?” Emily’s voice was breathless, panicked. “You need to come quickly. I’m at Karolina’s house. Now!” The call disconnected. Miriam immediately tried calling both Emily and Karolina and was met with voicemail.

  Christ. Had Karolina swallowed a bottle of pills or something? Should she call the police? No, Emily was capable of dialing 911, this was obviously the kind of emergency that required a friend. She dashed off a text to Paul, grabbed the Yama bag from the fridge, and jumped in her car.

  She barely remembered the drive to Karolina’s. She tore through the front door and saw Karolina in the foyer, looking stricken.

  “Oh, honey. I’m so, so sorry,” Miriam said, hugging her. Karolina stood eerily rigid.

  “What are you doing here?” Karolina asked.

  “Oh, Emily called and said you two needed . . . would like . . . some company.” She held the bag aloft. “I brought city sushi.”

  Karolina scrunched her perfect nose. “Um, okay. The fill-in cleaning lady took pity on me and made some salmon tonight. Did you know the caretaker couple who used to live here moved to Arizona with their daughter full-time? I didn’t want the company, but now that they’re gone, I want them back.”

  Miriam looked at her friend. There were the faintest dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise she looked as gorgeous and chic as usual in a pair of tight joggers, a cropped sweatshirt that exposed her navel and slid off her shoulder, and an adorably messy bun. “Well, you look okay . . . ,” Miriam mumbled.

  “Thanks, I guess?” Karolina said.

  Emily appeared in the doorway behind Karolina and put a finger to her lips.

  Karolina swiveled her head from one friend to the other. “What’s going on?”

  Emily said nothing. Karolina turned to Miriam. “Why are you here? What’s so awful that you two are acting like this?”

  Miriam’s stomach dropped. She could kill Emily. “You bitch!” she said, pointing to Emily.

  Emily shrugged. “This is something she should hear from one of her oldest friends, not some chick she just met.”

  “Oh my God, you two are scaring me! Is Harry okay?”

  “No, no, it’s not about Harry. But why don’t we pour some wine and get this sushi laid out and we can all talk like reasonable people?” Miriam said in her most soothing talking-to-toddlers voice.

  But Karolina wouldn’t budge. “Nobody’s moving until I know what’s so horrible that you both had to come here to tell me.”

  “Graham had a vasectomy five years ago,” Miriam blurted. It seemed to fly out of her mouth against her will.

  A long moment of silence followed.

  “No he didn’t,” Karolina said, sounding less angry than confused.

  “Yes he did,” Emily said.

  Miriam could see Karolina’s eyes fill as she looked her straight in the eye. “It’s true,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry. I spoke with the doctor’s office, trying to reconcile an old bill. They told me the exact date, time, and surgeon who performed it.”

  “That’s impossible,” Karolina said. “He was tested two or three times. And they always said his sperm were fine and that the problem must be . . .”

  There was a brief pause while she appeared to process this, and then, without any warning, Karolina vomited on the floor. Emily must have seen it coming because she jumped backward like a gymnast, but Miriam hadn’t and her sneakers were covered. She slipped them off and peeled off her socks for good measure before taking Karolina’s hand and leading her to the living room. “Here, sit. I’m going to clean that up and get you some water.”

  “I’ll help,” Emily said, and then promptly headed for the pantry to grab some bottled water, leaving Miriam to mop up the puke.

  When they returned, Karolina was perched on the edge of the couch, looking slightly green. She accepted the water but made no move to open it.

  “I tried Clomid and herbs and took my basal temperature and acupuncture and tested my discharge consistency, for God’s sake! Seven IUIs, two egg retrievals, and three rounds of IVF. Four years of my life were spent in doctors’ offices, getting poked and prodded and injected, and so many people stuck their hands inside me that I barely even noticed anymore. All of those people must have known Graham’s sperm was useless, and they lied for him! I saw a fortune-teller for two hundred dollars an hour. A shrink. And the whole time, Graham knew none of it would work?”

  No one moved.

  Miriam patted Karolina’s arm. “Let’s talk it through.”

  “Talk?” Karolina said, looking directly into Miriam’s eyes. “No. I don’t want to talk anymore. I need to go upstairs and start preparing for jail, because I’m going to find a knife and cut the balls off that motherfucker.”

  21

  Munching Xanax Like Gumballs

  Karolina

  Karolina bolted upright in bed. The clock read 2:22 a.m. Make a wish! The thought popped into her head automatically. I wish he dies. Suddenly it didn’t seem hard to understand how regular, law-abiding people became cold-blooded killers. She and Graham had fought before, and Karolina had felt every degree of anger toward him, but this was different. This was hate.

  Shouldn’t two Xanaxes last longer than two hours? She should have been mercifully blacked out until at least five. But it was as if the pills had amped her up instead of knocking her out: her heart was pound
ing arrhythmically, and her entire body was covered by a thin layer of sweat. How on earth was she expected to sleep when that monster had literally ruined her life?

  What happened next wasn’t so much the result of a conscious or even rational decision; Karolina barely remembered showering or pulling on jeans and a sweater, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was even awake as she rooted around in the kitchen, looking for car snacks and bottles of water and stuffing them in a backpack. Which was probably why she almost had a heart attack when the lights blazed on around her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Emily asked, squinting. She was wearing a half-tee and a Hanky Panky thong and had a satin sleep mask pushed up on her forehead.

  Karolina whipped around. “Leave me alone.”

  “Gladly,” Emily said.

  “It’s none of your business.” Karolina took a Diet Coke from the fridge.

  “If I knowingly let you murder him, it’s going to ruin my life too. I’m not sure how, but I’ll definitely get arrested for being an accessory or something. So please, can we back off the psycho routine and cycle it down to regular crazy?”

  Karolina stopped and stared at Emily. “Do you really sleep in a thong?”

  Emily glanced down. “What else would I sleep in?”

  “I bet Regan sleeps in a thong too. No, no, that’s not right. She probably sleeps in one of those Little House on the Prairie nightgowns that make you look like a teenaged virgin. A totally innocent schoolgirl except for the fact that she’s sleeping with my sociopath husband.” Merely saying the word “husband” made her heart beat faster.

  “Seriously, why are you packing a bag at three in the morning?”

  “It’s none of your business.” Karolina tried to slide past Emily and through the doorway, but Emily put her arm against the frame.