He shrugged. “Well, I figured it was either another Saturday at home trying not to kill my parents, or this.”
I gave him a closed-lip smile. “I’m really sorry. You’ll find something, I know it.”
“Thanks.”
We started walking, slowly, toward the house. In the distance, I could see a cluster of white tents, and underneath, tables covered with white tablecloths, all set up beside the pool.
“So,” he said, “how’s, uh, Sarah doing?”
A breeze blew a piece of hair into my face, and it stuck in my lip gloss. “She’s good. She’s in law school.”
“Really? That’s great.” He coughed, looking straight ahead. “So she’s been dating someone? For a while?”
“They’ve been going out for a year or so, I think. She’s actually moving in with him.” I added the last part quickly, because if you did something quickly, it wasn’t supposed to hurt as much. If I was worried about hurting him or me, I wasn’t sure.
“Really? That’s great,” he said again. “Man, this place doesn’t leave very much to the imagination.”
I laughed. That was a good way to describe it. All the family money and power right there on display, in the fountains and lion statue and detached guesthouse. People in white shirts and black vests rushed by us, speaking into bluetooth devices. I looked at Mike as we walked up the front steps. We shared some sort of bond now, the two of us pushed back home due to forces beyond our control. Comrades in arms, like he said.
On the porch, there was an easel that held an artist’s rendering of one of the engagement photos I’d taken of Amber and Peter, the two of them gazing into each other’s eyes in his family’s backyard. Really, they couldn’t have asked me to enlarge one of the photographs? They had to have a painting of it?
“Overkill?” I asked Mike.
He grimaced. “And this is just the shower,” he said.
For what seemed like at least a day and a half, I sat primly on a white silk couch and watched Amber open elaborately packaged toasters and sets of expensive cutlery and serving bowls with Martha Stewart’s face on the box. As the maid-of-honor, Lori sat at the right hand of the bride, taking detailed notes for the thank you cards. Some of the gifts were interesting simply based on their complete irrelevance in any normal human being’s life—would anyone our age actually use a cake pop maker?—but not interesting enough to keep my attention. I started to mentally tally the amount of times someone in the room said the word cute. (I stopped at fifty-eight.) I truly envied the guys, because even though they’d been forced to attend, they’d been allowed to congregate in the massive media room downstairs to play violent video games. By the time we got around to making wedding dresses out of toilet paper, I could’ve found a lot of uses for a virtual machine gun.
Eventually, the games ended and lunch was served. The guys came up for the food, of course, and we were all ushered outside to the tents. I lost Sarah somewhere along the way and ended up making awkward conversation with Amber’s mom. Mrs. Howell had always been nice but distant when we were kids, and now she was hugging me stiffly. “I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, trying to turn her mouth into a smile. She was a naturally very pretty woman with soft, feminine features like Amber but had fallen victim to Stonebury’s plastic surgery assault. Living in the public eye like she did must have been hard. She would have been a beautiful older woman. Instead, it was as if she’d been cut up and put back together. The pieces of her face didn’t look quite right.
“It’s a pleasure to be here.”
“I’ve always said Amber is so lucky to have such nice friends. She’s always been so fond of you.”
I attempted to smile, too. “Thank you.”
She patted me on the shoulder and moved on to thank another guest for coming. Across the grass, I watched as Amber hugged her grandparents. She looked genuinely happy. So she was fond of me? Unless it was a line the politician’s wife said to everybody. It was certainly possible. But now I was wondering if Sarah was right. If I was being too hard on her.
There was assigned seating at the tables. I was put between Mike and Adam Dixon.
They were both already seated, drinking liquor from tumblers. “There she is,” Adam said when I sat, as if they’d been talking about me. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. His mouth left a wet spot that I attempted to casually wipe with the back of my hand. Then I wiped my hand with a napkin.
Thank God Sarah and Derek showed up moments later. She introduced her boyfriend to her ex-boyfriend, and they both smiled at each other politely. Derek wanted to know how the photography business was going.
“It’s not, really. Just some freelance work here and there.”
“Well, some work here and there is some work,” Derek said kindly.
“I actually got the name of a financial advisor in Boston. I’m going to make an appointment and talk about my options.”
“Oh yeah? Who is it?”
I fished the card out of my wallet and read off the name.
Derek nodded right away. “Yep, I’ve heard of him. He’s a good guy.”
Sarah held on to his arm, which was funny because she was no longer a fan of PDA. I guess her relationship with Mike had taught her at least that. “Do you know everyone in Boston?”
“Maybe,” Derek said. He kissed the tip of her nose. Mike flagged down a server and took another drink from a tray. I had no idea if the timing was intentional.
“How’d you get his name?” Derek asked. “Referral?”
“Actually, from a girl we used to go to high school with. I forgot to tell you,” I said to Sarah. “I, uh, ran into Fiona Locke a couple weeks ago. It’s her friend.”
This news caused Adam to laugh loudly. He turned toward me and his knee knocked against mine. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Is she still pulling spit balls out of her hair?”
Derek made a look of disgust. I stayed very, very calm. “No, she’s beautiful, actually. Very successful. And nice.” I added the last part quietly, almost to myself.
“How’d you run into her?” Sarah asked.
“Long story.”
A couple of other people took their seats at our table, introducing themselves as cousins of Amber, and the conversation turned in another direction. Adam turned to me. His eyes were bloodshot. I wondered if they’d been drinking in the game room this whole time, the way they did when they were seventeen. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m okay,” I said politely.
He thought that was funny, too. “Come on. We have to loosen you up. Didn’t you ever party in college? Or did you just study like in high school?”
I gritted my teeth, looking past him at Mike, who was folding and refolding the napkin in his lap. I managed to catch his eye. “How’s your sister doing?”
“Good, she’s in Connecticut, pharmacy school…”
Mike went on, looking as relieved as I felt to have something to talk about. Adam interjected now and then, but I didn’t take my eyes from Mike until someone started clinking a spoon against a glass and the whole yard went silent.
Senator Howell stood at the head of the table where Amber, Peter, Lori, and Peter’s best man were seated. It was like the senator had been untouched by time. He had the same full head of salt and pepper hair, the same strong jaw and healthy glow. He looked this way on TV, too, stately and in control.
“My wife and I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for coming, and especially for being such an important part of our beautiful daughter’s life. And if you’re sitting here today, that’s exactly what you are. When Karen and I got married back in the Dark Ages”—he stopped for the laughter—“all we wanted to do was start a family. We never would’ve expected to be blessed with such an amazing daughter.” Now he stopped for the applause. “And you’re okay, too,” he said to Amber’s little brother who, at twenty, was a mirror image of their father.
With that, he sat down, and on cue, the food was served. Ther
e was fresh spinach salad and clam chowder, shrimp scampi, and whole lobsters. For dessert, crème brûlée and little glasses filled with lemon and strawberry sorbet. I caught Mike’s eye again and he raised an eyebrow as if to say, again, and this is just the shower. I couldn’t imagine how they were going to top this—the food, the venue, even the live band that was playing jazz right now—at the wedding.
We were invited to stick around after dinner and relax by the pool. I had a two-hour car ride ahead of me and the newest issue of Celebrity Weekly waiting for me at home—it was a more preferable way to end my evening. Before I left, though, I needed to talk to Amber.
What her father had said was sticking in the back of my head. I was sitting here; I was important to Amber. We’d known each other since we were in the seventh grade. We’d grown up together. She’d asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. And even if she’d done it because of some sort of weird obligation she’d felt to keeping the four of us together, did it matter? I was going to be standing in a church in five weeks, one of the witnesses to the most important day of her life. She’d asked me. And like me, she was no longer seventeen. I didn’t want to be judged as the person I was back then, but I was doing the same to her. Was it possible that Amber should have been included on my list of apologies?
I found her out on the back porch, drinking champagne with Peter’s sisters. “Can I talk to you for a second? I’m going to be hitting the road in a minute.”
“Yeah, of course.”
We walked across the lawn toward the parking lot. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all. I just—I wanted to thank you.”
She looked at me, surprised. “For what?”
“I don’t think I ever thanked you for asking me to be in the wedding.”
The wind blew and she held her long hair away from her face. “Oh. Well, we always said the four of us would have each other in our weddings.”
She said it without much emotion, as if it was some sort of contract she’d signed so, oh well, she had to go through with it. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure she cared very much if I was standing up there with her or not.
“I know we really haven’t been close the past few years,” I said. “I didn’t do a very good job of staying in touch in college. I guess I kind of felt weird around you.”
“Oh,” she said. She turned around, looking back at the porch that was not much more than a line of white in the distance. “I’m not sure why you’re bringing this up now.”
“I guess I want to…clear the air.”
She crossed her arms. “Say what you want to say, but do it quickly. I have people waiting for me.”
I wished Sarah were here, so she could hear this and know it wasn’t just me. But of course, if Sarah were here, I had a feeling that Amber wouldn’t be talking to me like this. I thought about walking away, but I’d gotten this far. And now I was kind of pissed.
“There were things that went down in high school that I didn’t feel very good about. Still don’t. That’s why I hadn’t kept in touch.”
Amber’s eyes began to narrow. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Okay, I’ll give you an example. Mike and Sarah.”
Amber shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? You don’t remember? Why they broke up? What we said?”
“I’m really not sure what you’re getting at, but you’re acting strange. Bringing up stuff that supposedly happened like, a decade ago?”
“It’s not only me bringing stuff up, it’s Sarah. She’s thinking about it, too. Did you know she had to go see a therapist?”
“Okay, I’m done. This is my bridal shower.” Amber started to walk away, and I didn’t consciously make the decision to grab her arm and yank her back, I just did it. She faltered a little in her high heels but caught herself quickly. “What are you doing?”
“I’m telling her. I’m telling her what we did, that’s what I’m doing.”
She started breathing heavily. In the distance behind her, a couple guests walked to their cars. “If you say anything, I’ll deny it.”
We looked each other in the eye, maybe for the first time in many, many years. I knew she was telling me the truth. She’d deny it until the end. That was the difference between her and me.
I didn’t say anything. She turned on her heel and hurried back across the lawn to where her family and friends were waiting.
I took a couple of minutes to collect myself. Shit. I had not intended for things to go down that way. I was trying to be nice, to fix things. To give her the benefit of the doubt. And it was her bridal shower. Probably not the best timing on my part.
The white tables had been cleared away and replaced with a makeshift dance floor. Sarah and Derek were among the couples slow dancing. I tried to catch her eye to say good-bye, but she had her head on Derek’s shoulder and wasn’t looking my way. It appeared that Mike had already gone. Lori and Kurt were sipping drinks at the pool, but the last thing I wanted to do was fake conversation with the two of them. I grabbed my purse and decided to make a hasty exit. I’d barely made it around the front porch when someone called my name.
“You leaving already?” Adam rounded the corner, and it was just the two of us, standing in front of the Howell estate.
“Yeah. Long drive home.”
“It’s not that long.” He had his hands in the pockets of his pants. He looked at my face, then slowly down the rest of me and back up again. “You’re looking hot these days, Nat.”
If I kicked him in the balls right here, would this count as another scandal for the senator?
“No one calls me that,” I said.
“Come on,” he said when I began to walk away. “Why are you always acting like you’re better than the rest of us?”
I stopped dead and slowly turned around. Every breath I took was calm and steady. “Can I tell you something?” I asked.
He nodded, curling his upper lip in some kind of suggestive gesture, as if he thought I was preparing to admit a sexual fantasy.
Gross.
“You are now, and you always have been, an idiot. Fiona Locke would never in a million years even consider dating you. And, so you know, when someone walks away from a fight with you, it’s not because they’re afraid. It’s because they are the bigger person. And you’re just a bully who will never grow up.”
He stood there, stunned. Had I really said that, exactly what I’d been thinking for all these years? It was mean—exactly the kind of thing I told myself I’d never say again—but if you say mean things to a mean person, did they cancel each other out, like a double negative? It must, because I felt good, lighter. Adrenaline ran through me, making me feel like I could do anything. I walked toward my car, fighting off the urge to laugh. And then, ten seconds later, to my back: “And you’re a bitch!”
“Have a nice life!” I called without turning around. In that moment, I vowed I would never turn around for Adam Dixon or anyone like him again.
Chapter Thirteen
In my cubicle, I spent three and a half hours copyediting articles written on what were perhaps the most boring events that have ever happened in recorded human history. A fire in a Riverdale apartment that was caused by a faulty electrical box. A former city hall official getting a new job at the chamber of commerce. Senator Howell renewing a call for fishing disaster relief.
Stonebury news was never heart-stopping, but it was like I was being punished for our underwhelming interview with Jack Moreland.
Hilary had called Gillian and me into her office. She had her glasses way down on her nose as she read the copy in her hands, and she’d looked at us over the frames and said, “Are you kidding me?”
“What?” Gillian had asked innocently.
“There’s not one exclusive piece of news in this entire exclusive interview.” She put air-quotes around the word “exclusive.”
Gillian squirmed in her seat, glancing at me for help.
> “His manager gave us an entire list of questions we weren’t allowed to ask, and that was on it,” I said.
“Of course he did. That’s his job. And it was your job, as journalists, to get him to tell you the things they don’t want him to say.”
Gillian and I looked at each other again, both of us trying to think of an excuse that sounded good. Hilary sighed. “Oh, who am I kidding? We all know he’ll end up spilling his guts to Celebrity Weekly for a nice chunk of change. We’re just the hometown rag that no one even reads.”
Whoa. It was one thing for me to think this, quite another for my boss to be saying it out loud. Hilary tossed the copy into the blue recycling bin under her desk and turned to her computer, and it was clear we were dismissed.
Now I struggled to stay awake as the words on the screen in front of me began to blur together.
I needed a break. Gillian was out on an interview, so I walked across the street to the coffeehouse alone. While I waited for my latte, I took out my phone. Another missed call from Sarah. I’d been putting off calling her back for the past few days. I was sure Amber must’ve mentioned our little spat and had somehow managed to twist the story so that she came off as the victim. I wasn’t ready to defend myself. And I wasn’t ready to apologize to Sarah. I had to, eventually. I had to tell her the truth. But not yet.
Once I got my drink, I sat in the corner by the window and took the newest copy of Celebrity Weekly out of my bag. I’d already read most of it. This issue was filled with endless pictures of reality stars flaunting cleavage and telling us all about the secret contents of their bags. Why did I care? I didn’t know. But it was like my day was somehow incomplete without this knowledge.
There was an article I’d saved for last, when I had the time to savor the words and pictures. I flipped to the dog-eared page.
what you need to know about the force of nature tour!
The Headliner: Force of Nature, fronted by bad boy with a heart of gold, Alex Stone, has been owning the rock/pop charts ever since their debut “Frat House Rock” dropped in 2010. This is their second tour of the States, and Stone, who married his high school sweetheart last spring and welcomed his son in May, says it will be even bigger this time around. “We’ve got pyrotechnics, jugglers, little people. Totally a Cirque du Soleil type of feel. Although in the end, it is really just about the music.”
The Mean Girl Apologies Page 14
