Girls in White Dresses

by JENNIFER CLOSE

  This was how Cate found herself, against al better judgment, agreeing to have lunch with her. For weeks, Bridget had been leaving messages on her voice mail. “Caitlin, it’s me,” the messages said. “I’m coming to New York and we are meeting up if it’s the last thing we do. It’s been too long.”

  The messages almost sounded like threats. They could, at the very least, be perceived as mild harassment. Cate’s cel phone had a message almost every day, and then somehow Bridget found Cate’s work number and started cal ing her there too.

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Isabel a asked her. Cate was peering at the cal er ID, letting it ring and ring.

  “It’s this girl from col ege,” Cate said. “She won’t leave me alone.”

  “Is she a friend?” Isabel a asked.

  “Not real y,” Cate said. “Sort of, I guess. But no, not real y. I just need to wait until her trip is over and then I’l cal her back.”

  And then one day, the cal er ID said “Unavailable” and Cate picked up. “Gotcha,” Bridget said on the other end. “Caitlin Johnson, you are one hard person to get a hold of. You have got to meet me for lunch!” Cate was so surprised that she just said, “Okay.”

  “I have to meet someone for lunch,” Cate told Isabel a.

  “Snowy is going to kil you,” Isabel a said.

  Cate considered this. Snowy had spent the better part of the morning screaming at Cate. “Three years!” she had yel ed. “Three years you’ve worked here and you don’t know how to do anything!” Yes, Snowy would probably kil her.

  “I have to,” Cate said. “I already promised.”

  “Is this the stalker?” Isabel a asked. She squinted as if trying to understand.

  “Yeah, but I just need to get it over with.”

  “It’s your funeral,” Isabel a said. “We have a meeting at three, don’t forget.”

  “I won’t,” Cate said. She grabbed her bag and headed toward the door. “I’l be back in an hour,” she cal ed over her shoulder.

  Cate met Bridget the first day of col ege, when Bridget knocked on her door during orientation. “Hel o,” she cal ed. “Caitlin or Maya, are you in there?” Cate was alone in her room, unpacking underwear into her dresser. Before she could answer the door, the knob turned and Bridget walked right in. “Hi,” she said. “I’m just going up and down the hal introducing myself to people. Al the names are on the doors, so it’s total y easy. Are you Caitlin or Maya?”

  “Caitlin,” she said. “But everyone cal s me Cate.”

  Bridget jumped on Cate’s bed and sprawled out, leaning against her pil ows and putting her arms above her head. “I love the name Caitlin,” she said. “I’m total y going to cal you Caitlin.”

  Bridget was short, with a big chest and a raspy voice that made it sound like she’d been at a great party the night before. She was bossy and happy. From the start, she was kind of annoying, but Cate was so lonely those first few days that she would have sold her soul for someone to walk to the dining hal with. They were inseparable for the first week of col ege, but as the year went on, they both met other friends, and their paths slowly went separate ways. Bridget was always there, of course. They’d get together every once in a while, and invite each other to parties they were having. Cate always said yes when Bridget invited her somewhere. She felt like she owed her something for her friendship during those first solitary days of col ege.

  And Bridget wasn’t an awful person. Not exactly. She was just, in her own way, exhausting. She never relaxed, never sat back calmly. She was always on the edge of her seat, laughing and cutting in on other people’s stories to tel her own. When you asked Bridget how she was, things were always amazing, wonderful, perfect! When she lost her job, she was thrilled to have the free time to explore other opportunities. When she was in a relationship, she was crazy in love, and when she was dumped she was excited to live the single-girl life and really get to know herself.

  It was infuriating to listen to her spout her happiness, her absolute joy at being herself. At first, you might think that she was putting on an act. But what was even more annoying was when you realized that she believed everything she was saying. In col ege, Bridget always assumed that she was invited everywhere. Overhearing talk of a party meant that she was, of course, going to go. It never occurred to her that people might not want her around. The thought just never crossed her mind.

  When Bridget got back from her semester abroad in London, she developed a strange English affect in her voice. “This lift,” she would say, waiting for the elevator, “is taking forever.” It made you want to punch her.

  But if Cate was being honest, there was a reason she kept in touch with Bridget, and it was this: Her lack of reality was fascinating. Listening to her tel stories was hilarious and horrifying at the same time. When her boyfriend cheated on her, Cate offered sympathy and Bridget just shook her head. “Can you believe,” she said, “that he’s so scared of being in love with me that he cheated?”

  Cate logged these stories in her brain, saving them up to tel friends later. She had a whole catalog of Bridget stories to pul out at parties. They were unbelievable. The girl was a complete loon. It was comforting to Cate that no matter how messed up she was or how many mistakes she made, she wasn’t nearly as crazy as Bridget.

  It was early October when Cate went to meet Bridget. It was one of those warm fal days in New York when everyone walks around without jackets and soaks up the last of the sun. There were no clouds in the sky and everyone seemed happy. As Cate walked among al of these smiling people, she felt anxious. She knew she should have stayed at work, but she told herself that Bridget would just have hounded her until she met her. Better to get it over with, she told herself.

  From down the block, Cate could see Bridget sitting at an outside table at the restaurant, wearing sunglasses and a shawl. Cate could tel that she thought she looked like a movie star. Her face was tilted back toward the sun and she had the happy little smile of someone who is perfectly content. As Cate got closer, she saw that there were two glasses of white wine on the table and immediately she felt relieved. This lunch would be much easier to handle with alcohol.

  Bridget shrieked as soon as she saw her, causing everyone to turn and stare, which embarrassed Cate to no end. “Caiiitliiin! Oh, how are you?”

  Bridget opened her arms wide for a hug, and then kissed both of Cate’s cheeks. This would have been a little pretentious for anyone, but Bridget was from Pittsburgh, which just made the whole thing absurd.

  Bridget pushed her sunglasses up on her head in a theatrical way and leaned back to laugh. “It is just so damn good to see you! I can’t believe it.

  You look wel ! I ordered some wine for us. Now, I know it’s a school day for you, but I thought we needed to celebrate. A little day drinking never hurt anyone, no?”

  As always with Bridget, Cate barely said a word. Bridget rattled on about her job, and revealed that she was working on a memoir in her spare time. “I’ve always been a great writer,” she said. “There’s a lot of people interested to see it when I’m done. So we’l see! Maybe I’l have a fabulous book deal by the end of the year,” she said and then laughed. “So, how are you?” she asked. But before Cate could answer, Bridget started describing how she’d redecorated her apartment, how she seemed to have a gift for choosing color palettes and antique pieces that just seemed to fit.

  They ordered a second glass of wine and Cate drank while Bridget fil ed her in on the cooking class she was taking. Then she told her about the trip to Italy she was planning. “I just feel so lucky,” she said. “To have a job I love that pays me enough that I can do other things that I love. Do you know how rare that is?” she asked.

  “I do,” Cate said.

  Bridget sighed, and took a sip of her wine. “Caitlin,” she said. “There was something else I wanted to tel you.”

  “Real y?” Cate asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “I wanted to tel you that I’m dating Jim.”


  “Jim?”

  “You know, Jim from col ege. Turns out he works near my building in Boston and we ran into each other at a happy hour. And you know, trouble!”

  Bridget raised and lowered her eyebrows and pursed her lips, then laughed out loud.

  “Oh, now, don’t look so shocked! Look, I wanted to tel you because I know you and Jim had that thing in col ege,” Bridget said and took a sip of her wine. Her face suddenly grew serious. “But, I mean, col ege was about a mil ion years ago! And I knew that you wouldn’t real y mind, but I stil wanted to tel you myself. You know how funny girls can be about these things.”

  “Yeah,” Cate said. “I do.”

  “Oh, I knew you wouldn’t mind! I told him that you’d be fine with it. Boys are so sil y, aren’t they?”

  “So, how long have you two been, um, together?”

  “Almost a year. Wel , about nine months. And I wanted to tel you earlier, but we’ve both been so busy that we’ve barely spoken!”

  “I know,” Cate said and raised her hand to the waiter for another glass of wine.

  “Oh, you are so bad,” Bridget giggled.

  “So is it serious?” Cate asked. Her head felt light, and she struggled to keep her voice steady.

  “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

  “But it’s only been nine months, right?”

  “Wel , yes. But he’s already looking at rings.”

  “What?”

  Bridget made a big show of clamping her hands over her mouth and making her eyes wide. “Look at me,” she said. “I can’t keep a secret to save my life! But between you and me? This is it.”

  Cate picked up her glass of water and drank the whole thing down in one swal ow. She was afraid that if she stopped, she would throw the glass on the floor. Jim. Jim? Jim and Bridget? This didn’t make sense. She was making it up in her head. Maybe Bridget was even crazier than Cate had ever known. The waiter brought over a new glass of wine, and Cate picked it up and started drinking it like it was water. She was so thirsty al of a sudden.

  “We’re going to Italy together, and I just know he’s going to do it there,” Bridget said.

  “Real y?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Isn’t that romantic?”

  Jim was the person Cate stil thought about, the person that her mind went to when things got bad. It was stupid and she knew that. It was obvious that they’d never get back together, but stil she liked to think, “What if?” She knew that he would date other people, she’d even thought that maybe he’d be married soon. But to Bridget? No. Not to Bridget.

  “Caitlin,” she said. “Caitlin, does this bother you? Oh, that’s not what I meant to do.”

  Cate shook her head. “No one cal s me Caitlin. Did you know that? Not one other person on this earth cal s me Caitlin.”

  “I know,” she said. “That was always our thing. I love the name Caitlin!”

  Cate left the restaurant in a hurry. Al of a sudden, she needed to get out of there. “I have to get back to work,” she said, throwing some money on the table. “My boss is on the warpath.” Bridget was saying something but Cate wasn’t listening. She stood up and her chair hit the table in back of them. “Sorry,” Cate mumbled. “Sorry, sorry,” as she wove in and out of the tables. She took a left on the street and walked quickly for a few blocks before she realized that she had no idea where the subway was.

  Cate stopped for a second, just outside a little park, and leaned her head against the fence to gather her thoughts. There was a man in there feeding pigeons, and Cate watched him throw the seeds out at the dirty birds. They gathered al around him, pecking at the ground. How gross, she thought. How gross to let those disgusting creatures get close to you.

  And then it happened. Cate hadn’t noticed, but there was a net on the ground, and the man bent down and in one swoop had gathered al of the pigeons inside. He picked up the bag of pigeons, walked to a white van, got in the back, and drove away.

  Cate looked around, waiting for someone else on the street to react so that they could stop this man. What was he doing? He was stealing pigeons! People walked past Cate on the sidewalk, and she tried to catch someone’s eye, but they al kept walking. No one cared. No one had even noticed. “Didn’t any of you see him?” Cate wanted to scream. “There’s a thief in our midst!” But she didn’t. No one would have listened anyway.

  Cate went back to work, sweaty and disoriented. Isabel a looked up as she ran to her desk. “What happened to you?” she asked. Cate shook her head and picked up a bottle of water she’d left on her desk. She unscrewed the top and held up one finger while she chugged most of it.

  “You won’t believe me,” she said when she was done. “But you have to believe me.”

  “Are you drunk?” Isabel a asked.

  “No,” Cate said. “I had some wine. But listen, I have to tel you something. And you have to believe me.”

  “Snowy is going to freak out if you aren’t ready for the meeting. It’s in twenty minutes, you know.”

  “I know, but just listen to me! Listen.” Cate told her about the pigeons. She described the man who’d scooped them up and taken them away.

  Isabel a listened, raising and lowering her eyebrows as the story went on.

  “Why would anyone steal pigeons?” she asked when Cate was done.

  “I don’t know,” Cate said. “It’s crazy, right?”

  “Yes,” Isabel a said. “It’s crazy.”

  “You believe me though, right?”

  “Cate, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m just tel ing you, it was the weirdest thing. He just scooped them up, like it was his job. Like he was sent there to do that.”

  Isabel a shrugged. “Maybe it was,” she said. “Maybe he works for the city.”

  “No,” Cate said. “I thought of that. The van wasn’t marked.”

  Isabel a sighed. “Okay, so it was just some crazy man. Why do you care?”

  “It’s not right,” Cate said. “It’s not right that people can just go stealing pigeons in broad daylight.”

  “They’re disgusting,” Isabel a said. “I say, let anyone who wants to take them go ahead.”

  “But you believe me, right? You know I’m tel ing the truth?”

  “Yes,” Isabel a said. “I believe you. Can we just go over the stuff for the meeting now?”

  “Yeah,” Cate said. “Okay, sure.”

  “Cate, are you sure you’re okay? Did something else happen?” Isabel a asked.

  “No,” she said. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

  Cate started to write an e-mail to her friends about Bridget, but she didn’t get far. How embarrassing was it that her ex-boyfriend was dating Bridget Carlson? She looked at the sentence she’d typed and erased it. It was pretty embarrassing, she decided. She stared at her computer and tried to figure out how long it would be before everyone knew about Bridget and Jim. Knowing Bridget, she was probably posting it on Facebook right then. Her status would probably read, “Bridget Carlson is madly in love with Jim.” Cate wondered if Bridget had a blog. She hadn’t mentioned it, but if anyone was going to fil the world with pointless information about her life, it would be Bridget. This lunch was probably going to be in Bridget’s memoir.

  Isabel a gave Cate suspicious looks al afternoon. Cate tried to ignore her. Once, she started to tel Isabel a what had happened. Isabel a didn’t know Bridget, so she couldn’t possibly know the extent of the awfulness. Cate tried, but she couldn’t get the words out.

  Isabel a had saved Cate in the meeting. She’d talked for the both of them, acting as if Cate was involved in the work she’d done. “Thanks,” Cate said to her when they got back to their desks.

  Isabel a just shrugged and shook her head. “Sure,” she said. “No problem.”

  Isabel a was always so serious. She constantly reminded Cate that she was older, and said things like “When I was your age” and “You’l understand in a few years.” Whenever Cat
e told her to calm down, she said, “I don’t have any time left to fool around.” Isabel a was only three years older than Cate, but she acted like she was a hundred. If Cate told her about Bridget and Jim, there was a good chance she would shake her head and say, “Oh, children these days.”

  Cate’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing the rest of the afternoon, but she refused to answer it. “What is going on?” Isabel a demanded.

  “I’m just trying to avoid a phone cal .”

  “The stalker?” Isabel a asked. “Why don’t you just look at the cal er ID?”

  “No. You don’t know this girl. She could be cal ing from any number.”

  “I guess,” Isabel a said. She chewed on her lip and looked concerned. “You know, I was thinking about the pigeons.”

  “Real y?” Cate asked.

  “Yeah, I mean, you’re right. It could have been just some random man stealing them.”

  “I know,” Cate said. “But why wouldn’t anyone have stopped him?”

  Isabel a shrugged. “Sometimes I think that if you do something with enough confidence in New York, you can get away with anything. If you pretend to have authority, people never question you.”

  “I think you’re right.” Cate swal owed, looked back at her computer, and started typing.

  Cate left work and stood on the corner waiting for the bus. A pigeon bobbed its head and walked toward her. She waited for it to stop and turn around, but it kept coming. Its beak was open, like it was going to bite her. She kicked her shoe at it and backed up, but it just flapped its wings at her. The people across the street watched her, giving her strange looks. The pigeon kept coming closer, and Cate wondered if it was a rabid pigeon. Was there such a thing? She kicked at it again and screamed, “Aughh!” Final y it turned to walk away. “Fuck you,” Cate said to its back.

  She could have sworn it turned around to look at her. “You better watch it,” she said. “There are people out there who can take you.” The man next to her moved two steps away.