Girls in White Dresses

by JENNIFER CLOSE

  She wept along with them as they ran on treadmil s and lifted weights. She cried for their struggle and the goals they wanted to reach. She understood them, after al . Al they wanted was a new beginning. Al they wanted was some hope.

  I sabela and Harrison were going to Boston. Harrison wanted to get on the road early, and set the alarm clock for five a.m. “This isn’t early,” Isabela told him when the alarm clock started buzzing. “It’s the middle of the night.” Al morning, Harrison told Isabel a to hurry, which made her want to get back into bed. Final y, at eight-fifteen, they were in the car and heading out of the city. Isabel a asked if they could stop for coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts and Harrison wrinkled his nose and said, “Dunkin’ Donuts? Real y?” But he pul ed over and went inside to get it for her.

  “Here,” he said, handing her the big Styrofoam cup. He sniffed.

  “You don’t want any?” she asked.

  “I’l wait,” he said.

  They were going to Boston to see Harrison’s friends Brinkley and Coco. Brinkley and Coco had had a baby a few months ago and kept insisting that they come visit. Isabel a had heard the names Brinkley and Coco so much during the past week, she’d thought it was going to push her over the edge. Al of Harrison’s friends had names that reminded her of cartoon animals. These names used to be funny to Isabel a. Now they were just annoying.

  “What’s the baby’s name again?” she asked, even though she knew. “Bitsy?”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Right.”

  Isabel a sipped her coffee and stared out the window. She was excited about going to Boston, even if she didn’t care about seeing these people or meeting their baby. It was October and Isabel a felt like she should be going somewhere. Fal always did that to her. It made her restless, like she was late getting back to school; like she should be registering for classes, and buying pencils and notebooks and folders that matched.

  She’d bought a pink outfit for the child with little polka dots on the feet. She’d shown it to Harrison before she wrapped it. He nodded and said,

  “Nice.” She also bought a little pink bunny to go with it, but at the last moment left it out of the package. It was soft and worried-looking and Isabel a had a feeling that the baby wouldn’t appreciate it. She pictured it lost among a shelf of bigger animals, and so she shoved it into a drawer in her bedside table and continued wrapping the present.

  Harrison had gone to col ege in Boston too, and Isabel a often wondered if they’d ever run into each other on the street or brushed shoulders at a bar. She’d asked him this once when they had just started dating and it seemed romantic to think that they might have been in the same place years ago.

  “Probably not,” he said.

  “No,” she agreed. “Probably not.”

  Harrison had gone to Tufts and was two years older, while she’d been at Boston Col ege, on the other side of the city. It made her sad to think they’d never be back there again, never bounce from bar to bar drinking and dancing just because they could, just because they should. It wasn’t that she wanted to be in col ege again, exactly. No, she just missed it sometimes, the aftermath of those nights out, inexplicable bruises and lost wal ets, phone numbers being requested, make-outs with near strangers in crowded bars.

  Harrison didn’t seem to miss the past at al .

  “But don’t you wish you could go back, just for a week?” she asked.

  “I guess maybe,” he answered. She knew he didn’t mean it.

  Isabel a could spend hours looking at pictures from col ege. She liked to set them next to the more recent pictures from weddings and reunions and compare the two. It wasn’t that they looked old now—they weren’t even thirty! It was just that they looked so young in the col ege pictures, so baby-faced and rubbery. Isabel a studied the different shots of them, dressed up in ridiculous costumes or bundled up for a footbal game. It amazed her, how eager their expressions were, like they couldn’t wait to get to the next party, like there was just so much fun waiting for them.

  Isabel a couldn’t get over the way their skin looked in these pictures. It was dewy and pink and she couldn’t imagine what they’d ever complained about. It looked as though they were smothered in highlighting cream. Now they were dul er and more matte. And she was pretty sure they were going to stay that way.

  Even Harrison’s col ege pictures made her sad—him in a dirty house standing next to a keg, his arms around friends and a half-drunk smile on his face. It made her homesick that she would never know him there. They’d met after they both had jobs, and it broke her heart that she’d never know the col ege Harrison. She studied the pictures of him with his col ege girlfriend, trying to figure out what they were like, jealous that the girl in the picture knew Harrison in a way that she couldn’t.

  The ride to Boston took a while and they listened to NPR for most of the way. Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me! was on, which was Harrison’s favorite show. He laughed at things that Isabel a didn’t find funny. She wanted to ask him what he was laughing at, but knew that the answer would probably be a look that said, You’re not as smart as I am so you don’t get it, and so she stayed quiet.

  Isabel a fel asleep toward the end of the drive, and woke up confused and cranky as they pul ed into the driveway. Her mouth was open and she had drool on her cheek. She wiped it away and looked at Harrison, annoyed.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” she asked.

  “You’re already up,” he said and turned off the ignition.

  Brinkley was outside the house with their golden retriever, and Isabel a watched him wave and wished that they hadn’t come. She wiped her mouth again to make sure she got al the drool off and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Ready?” Harrison asked. She opened the door and got out.

  Brinkley walked over to greet her and kissed her on the cheek. Al of Harrison’s friends had impeccable manners. She resisted her impulse to curtsy.

  “Coco’s inside with the baby,” he said.

  The baby (Isabel a had to admit) was gorgeous. There was none of the ruddy-faced pimply skin newborns sometimes have. This baby was pink and cream, with dark hair and deep blue eyes. Isabel a didn’t want to be in love with her but immediately was.

  Coco was funnier than she remembered, which was maybe due to the fact that she’d gotten a little fat during her pregnancy. She had always been a tiny girl, but now on her short frame was the unmistakable blubber of leftover baby.

  “Al I want now is sausage,” she told Isabel a with wide eyes. “It’s unreal. Red meat and sausage.”

  She offered Isabel a a glass of wine and poured some red into two oversized glasses. “I’m not real y supposed to drink if I’m breast-feeding, but fuck it. I just went nine months without a drink. Plus, I go crazy by the end of the day with just this little blob to keep me company,” she said, smiling at the baby.

  Isabel a liked Fat Coco more than she’d ever liked the other one.

  They drank until dinner and nibbled on cheese and crackers. They passed around the baby and Coco opened the present. Isabel a held Elizabeth and wished that she’d brought her the bunny. By the time they sat down, they were al a little drunk.

  Brinkley put the steaks on everyone’s plates and gave Coco the largest one, which struck Isabel a as incredibly kind. She’d always thought Brinkley would be the kind of husband who wouldn’t want a chubby wife. But he didn’t care! Coco had just had their baby and he was grateful.

  Isabel a felt tears come to her eyes and made a mental note to stop drinking the wine.

  Harrison and Isabel a made a plan to go to Newbury Street to walk around and have lunch, but by the time Isabel a was showered and dressed and got down to the kitchen the next morning, there was another plan al set. Coco was packing a picnic basket for them to bring to Boston Common.

  Who owned a picnic basket? Did everyone have one except for Isabel a?

  Isabel a kept looking at Harrison to catch his eye. This was not the plan. But he didn’
t seem to notice. He poured himself a cup of coffee and talked to Brinkley about some guy they knew who’d been fired for stealing from clients. Isabel a wasn’t sure, but she thought the guy’s name was Mortimer.

  Harrison leaned over his coffee, stuffing his nose right over the top as he inhaled. “Now, this,” he said, looking at Isabel a, “this is real coffee.”

  Isabel a hated him so much she almost spit. His nostrils looked huge when he smel ed the coffee, and she felt nauseous. She smiled and asked for Advil.

  Isabel a hadn’t been on a picnic for as long as she could remember. Maybe even longer. And she knew why. It was uncomfortable to sit outside and awkward to pass around thermoses fil ed with soup, trying not to spil them on clothes, holding on to napkins as they blew away. She was smiling, though, so as not to be rude. Her head hurt from the wine and she wished that she were stil in bed. It was cold when the wind blew—too cold, certainly, to be sitting outside for a meal.

  Boston Common was pretty, especial y with al of the leaves changing colors and the beautiful brownstones in the background. Everyone in Boston looked cleaner and more awake than people in New York. But Boston Common was not Central Park, and it looked smal and eager to Isabel a, like it was trying too hard.

  The baby was bundled up to the point of insanity. Al Isabel a could see was a teeny nose sticking out of a pile of blankets. Coco leaned over and touched her nose to the baby. Isabel a felt something that was certainly jealousy, although she wasn’t sure why. She wished that she wanted to sit closer to Harrison and have his arm wrapped around her, but she didn’t.

  Harrison was explaining how the hedge fund he worked for was adjusting to the economy and how their outlook was changing. Every time he said the word “derivatives,” Isabel a’s temples throbbed. Coco and Brinkley listened intently, and not just to be polite. They were interested in what he was saying.

  He was boring, Isabel a realized. She watched him tel a story about work and it hit her: He was boring, and his friends were boring, and this picnic right now was boring. Harrison probably had a secret desire to get married and move to Boston and get a golden retriever and be boring al the time. She didn’t know him at al .

  And worse, what if he didn’t want to marry her and move to Boston? She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be with him, but she was quite sure that she wanted him to want that. Her brain swirled inside her head, and she closed her eyes and tilted her head back to face the sun.

  Sometimes Harrison seemed like an old man, crooked and worn out. He was cranky at the end of workdays, loosening his tie and watching the evening news. They probably shouldn’t have moved in together so soon, but rent in New York was insane and both of their leases were up and they were spending almost every night together anyway. It seemed like a good idea. Now Isabel a couldn’t imagine how they would ever get out of it even if they wanted to.

  “Do you ever hate Ken?” Isabel a had asked her friend Mary a couple of weeks ago. They were getting manicures on a Wednesday night after work and the question just came out. Ken was Mary’s new boyfriend, a nice guy who made al of their friends comment, “Oh, there he is. That’s what she’s been waiting for,” as if finding your perfect match was a guarantee as long as you were patient enough.

  Mary raised her eyebrows and looked closely at a nail she’d just smudged.

  “Hate him?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Hate him,” Isabel a said. “The other night I looked at Harrison and I just … I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know if I ever hate him,” Mary said. “But he sure bugs the living fuck out of me sometimes.”

  That night they al went to the North End for Italian food. They ate pasta and drank less wine than they had the night before, and Brinkley, Coco, and Harrison al exchanged information about people they’d gone to school with.

  “Cathleen’s pregnant again,” Coco said. “But she’s not real y tel ing anyone yet, so don’t say anything.”

  Coco always knew the best gossip, and almost everything she said was fol owed by a disclaimer that she wasn’t supposed to repeat it. The first time Isabel a had met Coco was at a wedding of Brinkley and Harrison’s friend Tom. Coco spent most of the reception sharing bits of information with Isabel a. The bride had cheated on the groom in col ege with another friend, Dave, who hadn’t been invited to the wedding, and also one of the bridesmaids had been in love with the groom since freshman year!

  Isabel a took these confidences to mean that Coco real y liked her, that she wanted to be friends, and she was flattered by the attention. But after a few more encounters, Isabel a realized there was nothing special about her. Coco just couldn’t keep a secret.

  Back at their house, Coco put out cookies and poured everyone some wine. The baby was wide awake, and lay on the floor on a pink blanket with a mobile of stuffed farm animals above her. She babbled at them like she was tel ing a story.

  “You have a lot to say tonight, don’t you?” Coco asked the baby.

  “Just like her mother,” Harrison said, and they al laughed.

  For some reason this made Isabel a feel left out, like she was crashing a reunion. She sat on the floor next to the baby, pretending to be so interested in Elizabeth that she didn’t care about the conversation around her. The three of them were stil trading information about people from col ege, but they had moved on to peripheral friends, people Isabel a had never even met.

  “Dorothea got laid off!” Coco almost yel ed this one, so happy that she’d remembered it. She tucked her legs underneath her, gearing up to tel the whole story. “She was just about to be promoted too, or that’s what she thought. And she was looking at places to buy in the city when they cal ed her in. Can you believe it?” She took a sip of wine for dramatic effect. “She’s pretty embarrassed about it, so don’t broadcast it or anything.

  She had to move back in with her parents on Long Island. Can you imagine? Ugh,” Coco shuddered.

  Isabel a actual y could imagine it and she wondered if she was the only one. Her life, as it was, felt very thin, very transportable. If she were to lose her job, moving back in with her parents might be exactly what she’d do. She wasn’t married to Harrison, and they didn’t have a child. She could just sel her bed and couch and pack up and move home to her parents’ house, easy as pie.

  This wasn’t normal, she didn’t think. But was Coco more normal? They were almost the same age and Coco had started a whole other life with babies, and golden retrievers, and picnic baskets. It was a life that felt miles away for Isabel a.

  Isabel a sat cross-legged in front of the baby and started tickling her toes. “This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home …,” she began quietly. Elizabeth’s eyes grew very round and she looked serious. “This little piggy ate roast beef, and this little piggy had none.” Elizabeth was almost completely stil , her eyes fixed on Isabel a. “And this little piggy went weee weee weee, al the way home!” Isabel a finished and tickled the baby up her legs onto her stomach. Elizabeth looked frightened for a moment and then started to laugh and snort.

  “You’re so good with her,” Coco said. Isabel a was offended that she sounded surprised.

  “Isabel a has a lot of nieces and nephews,” Harrison said, not unkindly, though it made Isabel a feel like an awkward teenager who they were trying to praise and include. She excused herself shortly after and went upstairs to bed. The three of them stayed up late talking and it felt lonely to listen to their voices from another room.

  Isabel a didn’t sleep wel that night and was up and dressed, sitting by her packed bag, before Harrison was even out of the shower. Coco had bagels and muffins and coffee ready, so they sat down to eat, and Isabel a was sure that this weekend was never going to end. She sipped her coffee, wanting the good-byes and hugs and promises to visit soon to be over already. Harrison was slow to gather his things and lingered at the table. Isabel a thought she might stand up and scream.

  Final y they were on their way. Isabel a wanted to drive by Boston
Col ege, maybe stop in the bookstore to buy a sweatshirt. The car windows were down and the wind blowing in was such perfect fal wind that it made Isabel a happy. She put her hand outside and felt the crispness mixed with leftover summer.

  “Did you have fun?” Harrison asked her, looking sideways and reaching over to put his hand on her thigh. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to do.”

  “Would you ever want to move to Boston?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. He looked over at her again. “Why? Is that something you think you want to do?”

  She felt immediate relief and shook her head no. She smiled at him.

  “It’s a nice place to visit, a great city for col ege, but I can’t picture living here again,” he said. “It’s like a fake city, you know?”

  She laughed a little, thril ed that he’d said just what she was thinking. Isabel a had flipped back and forth on Harrison so many times this weekend that she’d lost track of where she was. What did that mean, exactly? She thought it couldn’t be good.

  She took his hand and kissed it, then held it in her lap. “It was great,” she said. “Real y fun.” He smiled and looked back out at the road.

  “That baby’s pretty cute, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, and took back his hand to turn the wheel.

  As they pul ed up to the campus, Isabel a felt the same way she had when she’d returned each fal . Her stomach dropped with excitement and her throat tingled. She started looking around as though she was going to see someone she knew. Groups of girls were walking to the dining hal in pajama pants and messy ponytails. They were laughing and screaming, and Isabel a wanted to join them and eat bacon and eggs while they talked about the night before. What happened? Isabel a wanted to know. Who made out? Were there any boys there you liked?

  Isabel a and Harrison walked around holding hands, and Isabel a pointed out the dorms she’d lived in and different buildings to Harrison. He was bored, she knew, and she didn’t care.