She Makes It Look Easy

by Marybeth Whalen

  I hugged her, and she didn’t shrink away. She looked pleased with herself as she led us into the house, where people I barely knew smiled and told me happy birthday. I tried to ignore the fact that I hardly knew anyone at my own birthday party. I would soon enough, I supposed. My eyes scanned the party for Erica, but she, of course, wasn’t there. Down deep I still felt bad for blowing her off at the doctor’s office that day. I accepted a glass of wine from Justine and watched as David drifted toward the deck, where many of the men stood. I smelled cigar smoke when the door opened and wrinkled my nose.

  Justine grinned at me. “I know how you feel. It’s a man thing. Anyway, how was dinner?”

  “It was great. So nice to eat a grown-up meal.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. I’m glad you had a good time.”

  “Justine,” I said. “I can’t believe you’re doing this with everything … else going on. You didn’t have to.”

  Her eyes scanned the room. She looked back at me. “Oh, don’t you go worrying about that.” She appeared uncomfortable talking about Mark losing his job, and I understood that. Sometimes you just want to forget your problems. “So did David give you your gift?” she asked. “He said he had something really special planned.” She scanned my neck, my wrist, my hand, my ears, then wrinkled her brow.

  I tried to brush aside the thought of her and David having a private conversation of any sort. She looked especially beautiful that night. Even my eyes were drawn to her. I pushed aside my insecurities and instead remembered David’s face as I opened his surprise gift. “It was a book from my childhood. The boys let the dog chew it up right after we moved in. I … was really upset about it, and he … found me another copy. Even though it’s out of print.”

  Justine’s brow stayed wrinkled. “Oh. Well, isn’t that … sweet.”

  I didn’t expect her to understand, though I had hoped somehow she would. “It’s a sentimental thing for me,” I said. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find Kristy, wearing a maternity shirt and holding her arms out for a hug. “Kristy!” I squealed, equally as grateful to see a familiar face as I was for that face to be hers.

  She folded me into her arms, and I felt the unmistakable bump of her stomach as I hugged her. “Look at you,” I said, gesturing at her stomach. I looked around the room. “Is Josh here?”

  She nodded and pointed toward the deck. “With the menfolk out there.” She pinched her nose. “Gag.”

  “Yeah, now David’s gonna come home smelling like those foul things.” I rolled my eyes like it bothered me, though nothing could mess up this perfect night. Not even stinky cigars.

  Justine leaned over and extended her hand to Kristy. “I don’t believe we’ve met beyond my quick invitation to this little soiree. I’m Justine Miller.”

  Kristy shook her hand and smiled, her hand falling onto her belly out of habit. “Kristy Duffey.”

  “And how do you know Ariel?”

  “We were neighbors before she moved here,” Kristy said, a wistful expression crossing her face as she did.

  “And you’re pregnant?” Justine asked, even though it was obvious.

  “Yes,” Kristy answered, looking down at her stomach as though she was just noticing it. “About four months along.”

  “This your first?”

  Kristy looked embarrassed. “No. Second.”

  “And your first is a girl? Boy?”

  “A little girl. Kailey. She’s eight months old.” Kristy rolled her eyes, already used to the response of others.

  Justine clapped her on the back. “Girl, don’t you know what causes that? So they’re going to be how many months apart?”

  “Just over a year,” Kristy said, taking a drink of her water and scanning the deck for a glimpse of Josh, I knew. She looked back at me and smiled.

  “Well, better you than me,” Justine said, giggling. Couldn’t she tell that Kristy was self-conscious? I wanted to steer Kristy away from Justine—even if it meant going out to the deck around the cigar smoke. Instead we were interrupted by Tom Dean, who came up to us and leaned into our circle of three.

  “Ladies,” he said, smiling at us. He was handsome, and he knew it. I preferred men who were unaware of their looks. “Happy birthday,” he said to me and smiled.

  “Thank you,” I said. I took a sip of the wine Justine had handed me.

  “Having a good night?” he asked.

  “Very good. Thanks,” I said.

  He sipped from his bottle of beer and surveyed the crowd. I noticed his wife, Betsy, in a group of women, talking away. I wanted to make my way over and talk to her, get to know her better. I leaned over to Kristy. “Tom and his wife, Betsy, moved in about the same time we did,” I said.

  “Yep,” he said, nodding. “Sure did. Moving here was … quite the coincidence.” He looked at Justine.

  “Justine told me she knew you a long time ago,” I said.

  “Well now, it wasn’t that long,” he said with a laugh. He put his arm around Justine briefly, and I swore she moved in closer to him for a fraction of a second before they both pulled away like two magnets with the same pull. I think my eyebrows might have risen slightly. I took another sip of my wine. “Justine and I knew each other at summer camp when we were both counselors.”

  She jabbed him with her elbow. “But I was a junior counselor and you were a senior counselor.”

  “Are you trying to rub it in that I’m older?” he asked. I glanced around to see if Mark was anywhere nearby, if Betsy noticed who her husband was talking to.

  “Well, if the shoe fits …,” she said and grinned, showing him all her beautiful white teeth. They held each other’s glance just a little too long, I thought. Kristy shot me a look. I would explain to her later that it was just harmless flirting, the result of Justine’s efforts at being a good hostess and maybe a bit too much wine. Kristy didn’t know Justine like I did. She hadn’t seen her in front of the women at the mothers’ group, didn’t know that her house wasn’t this clean just for the party. Later I would tell Kristy what a role model Justine was, that everyone needs to cut loose every so often, feel appreciated, admired.

  “Has Justine told you that we dated back then?” Tom asked. My eyes widened, and I looked from him to Justine.

  Shock crossed her face, but she quickly smiled to cover it and placed her hand on Tom’s shoulder. “It’s true,” she said. I watched Kristy eye Justine’s hand, resting there proprietarily.

  “Oh, how cute!” I wanted to be agreeable amid my discomfort. Was anyone else weirded out? “For how long?” I asked.

  Tom smiled at Justine and then looked at me. “Well, we had a few summers together when we were in college.”

  Justine nodded. “I was eighteen, and he was twenty.”

  Tom picked up the story again. “We would go our separate ways after each summer, but we stayed in touch. Back then it was through letters.” He turned back to Justine. “I wonder whatever happened to all those letters?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Goodness, who knows?”

  “Wouldn’t they be fun to read now?” Tom asked her. They looked at each other for another fraction of a second too long.

  Justine waved her hand, dismissing the idea. “Those old things are long gone by now,” she said. She looked at me. “We were just a couple of crazy kids then.” As if that explained everything.

  I looked back at Justine, whose eyes were darting around the room. She spoke again. “Kristy, didn’t you say you had a baby girl?”

  Kristy blinked back at her, not able to make the awkward segue as fast as Justine had. “Umm, yes?”

  “Well, I have a bunch of adorable little dresses my girls have outgrown that I’ve been meaning to give to someone. Would you like to come and look at them? I mean, while you’re here?”

&n
bsp; Kristy looked from Justine to me and back again. “Umm, sure?” she said.

  “Now, Tom, stop boring poor Ariel with that old story,” she said as she walked off with Kristy trailing behind her. Kristy looked back over her shoulder at me as she left. Your new neighbors are kind of strange, her look said.

  Tom took a sip of his beer, and I watched as his eyes followed Justine up the stairs and then scanned the room, resting on his wife. He raised his beer to her, and she nodded, then looked back at the woman she was talking to.

  “Your wife seems very nice,” I said. I wanted to run outside on the deck with David and the stinky cigar smoke. “I’d like to get to know her.”

  “Betsy’s a sweetheart. You won’t meet anyone nicer,” he said. He laughed. “She was the one who broke me and Justine up actually,” he said.

  “Really?” I asked. The admission shocked me. I couldn’t imagine Tom passing up beautiful, confident, striking Justine for demure, sweet Betsy.

  “Yeah, Betsy and I were together all through high school and college. We had planned to get married from the beginning. Our families were friends. You know how it goes. I still remember wondering if I was making the right call. It was so hard to know,” he said. He looked again in the direction of where Justine had gone with Kristy. “It’s just so hard to know.”

  I nodded, trying to discern if he meant then, or now.

  Chapter 21

  Justine

  “You shouldn’t have said so much to Ariel,” I said when Tom and I were pretending to politely chat at the party. “She’s going to suspect something. I haven’t told her about our … past.” To every oblivious person around us, we were just two neighbors making friendly conversation at a party. I wondered how they couldn’t feel the electrical charge in the air. How could they not feel the heat coming off us in waves?

  And yet, all around me, people were moving through life as if Tom and I didn’t matter. It was amazing. Betsy was talking to Michelle, Susie, and Liza, charming them with her cuteness, no doubt. Mark was on the deck smoking cigars, most likely thinking that the worst thing that could happen to him was me insisting he shower before bed tonight. Ariel was talking to that annoying girl from her old neighborhood. When they glanced over at me, I smiled and waved. They waved back.

  “You worry too much,” Tom said.

  Mark often told me the same thing. I thought of the lines between my eyes formed by worry, evidence of this bad habit. At church the pastor said not to worry, to let God take care of everything. Somehow I didn’t think God wanted to take care of this for me. And yet, hadn’t He brought us together? Didn’t we deserve this chance?

  “It’s maddening to be this close to you and not be able to touch you,” he said quietly.

  I nodded, sipped my wine, and looked down into my glass, away from his probing eyes.

  “Can I see you this week?” he asked. “Can you get away?”

  I could always get away. That wasn’t the problem. Staying away with him was becoming more and more what I thought about. “You look really nice tonight,” I told him. He was wearing a golf shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes.

  He smiled with half of his mouth. “You’re not answering my question.”

  “I will meet you somewhere this week. Yes. The usual spot?” We had met in that dark, empty street a few times since our first rendezvous. I remembered the feeling of that first kiss we shared in his car and the many since then. As the memory settled, I looked up and saw Betsy glance over at us. I waved at her, but she turned her attention back to the women she was talking to.

  “Sure. I’ll meet you anywhere, anytime,” he said slyly.

  “Fine. But we can’t keep doing this.”

  “You mean you want to break things off?” he asked. Concern crossed his face.

  “I didn’t say that,” I said. Around me the party was in full swing. I could see the periphery of movement as people talked and gestured, hear the clinks of glasses, the buzz of conversations taking place all around me, the sound of laughter erupting every few minutes. And yet it all receded as I looked directly at him, allowing myself to dive fully into his presence for the first time that evening. I couldn’t afford but a few seconds or I would give myself away. “I mean we’ve got to figure out a way to move … forward.”

  He took a sip of his drink, swallowed, glanced around as if someone might be eavesdropping. “I’ve been having the same thoughts,” he said. “I’d like it if we could be together for an entire night. Do you think that might ever be possible?” He smiled at me and dropped his glance just as quickly. Neither of us said anything.

  He looked up at me as though he was about to say more, but just then Betsy came up and put her arm around me, telling me what a great party it was. I found myself inviting her to do something together the next day. Whether I was trying to deflect any suspicion or make myself feel less guilty, I didn’t know. Tom and I didn’t get a chance to be alone again for the rest of the night. It was probably for the best. The conversation had headed into a dangerous direction I didn’t know if I was ready for. And yet, it seemed headed there no matter what kind of detours we attempted.

  Chapter 22

  Ariel

  That morning I sent David off to work with a smile, not minding the suitcase that was swinging from his hand as he walked away from us. He kissed me so long before he left that the boys made gagging noises and collapsed into a pile of giggles when David dipped me dramatically. “You boys be good for your mom,” he said, rubbing his hand over their heads on his way out the door.

  He paused at the door. “I’ll hurry home,” he said and raised his eyebrows at me.

  “I hope you will,” I said, and he was gone. My eyes filled with tears as he backed out of the garage. I realized this was the first time he had left that I had thought about missing him instead of just being angry that he was gone. Later I would send him a text telling him how much I appreciated him working hard for us.

  I took out the ingredients to make chocolate-chip banana muffins—a recipe so basic a monkey could make it. The boys gathered around to watch, begging to lick the bowl and the beaters, fighting over whose turn it was to stir. I was making the muffins for Justine. I envisioned handing them to her, tucked into a basket with a decorative cloth covering them, giggling with her over the therapeutic benefits of chocolate as she took the first bite with a rapturous look on her face. I imagined her hand on my arm, the earnestness in her eyes as she thanked me for being there for her. She would tell me their plans for Mark to get another job; I would talk to her about how to be a support to him. We would strengthen each other, and in the end, our marriages—our lives—would be better. Someday we would talk about “that time” and we would say things like “We are all the better for it.” I closed the door to the oven and called out to my sons, who had lost interest in the muffins.

  “Boys, why don’t you get dressed for the pool, and we’ll go see if Cameron and Caroline would like to come with us. I think their mommy would like a break,” I said. I was on my way to becoming friend of the year. The boys whooped with delight. They would’ve lived at the pool if I let them.

  An hour later I had warm muffins and barely contained boys making a procession across our yards. They wore matching swim trunks and no shirts, looking the epitome of little boys on summer days. It occurred to me that I hadn’t snapped a photo in weeks. I had phone messages to return from clients anxious to schedule their fall appointments, but I hadn’t carved out a moment to call them back. Justine had been true to her word to send me more business than I could handle.

  When I knocked, Mark came to the door, looking disheveled and confused. His eyes fell to the basket of muffins in my hand and traveled back up.

  “Is Justine here?” I asked. I held up the basket. “I brought muffins,” I said, master of the obvious. “They’re still warm,” I added hopefully
, as though I must say the magic word to get him to open the door the rest of the way and let us in to find Justine.

  “She’s not here,” he said. “She’s meeting someone for lunch,” he said. He shook his head. “Her parents came and got the girls yesterday so it’s just me here. I have no idea when she’ll be back.” A cloud crossed his face, dark like a storm gathering.

  “Oh,” I managed. Like a jealous suitor, I wanted to ask him who she was with but refrained. Who else was she confiding in? I handed him the basket of muffins. “Well, then, you should enjoy these.”

  He looked at me. “I couldn’t,” he said, his hand frozen in midair. I knew he wanted to take them, so I forced them into his hand.

  “It’s the least I can do.” A look passed between us. He understood that I wanted to say more but lacked the right words. The muffins would have to do. He nodded.

  “I’m glad Justine has you,” he said. “I was worried about her, after Laura moved away. Worried how she’d cope. You two seem to have become good friends. I like that you guys go out as much as you do and that she can talk to you as much as she does. It gets her mind off things.”

  Go out? Talk a lot? I stood blinking back at him. “Oh, well, okay. Yes. It’s good,” I stammered. “The party last night was really great, by the way.”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem. Thanks for these.” He held up the muffins and scratched his stubbly cheek with his free hand. “I’ll tell her you came by.”

  “That would be nice,” I said, backing away from the door so he could shut it gently and go back to where he came from.

  What did Mark mean “go out”? Justine and I never went out. And she rarely confided in me. Maybe he was confusing me with another of her many friends. Or maybe he just meant that we saw each other often thanks to proximity. Either way, I couldn’t fault him for his confusion. He was under a lot of stress.

  I was debating leaving the pool that afternoon when Justine arrived with Betsy, Tom’s wife. They were laughing like old friends, and I hated the jealousy I felt as I watched from across the pool. I never imagined her being friends with Tom’s—her former boyfriend’s—wife. It struck me as odd, and I wondered why Betsy would go along with it. Probably for the same reason I wanted to be friends with her. She was pretty and poised and influential and smart. Who wouldn’t want to be in her company? I watched Betsy look at her and knew she was as taken in by her as I was. Perhaps this is who Mark meant when he said he was glad we went out often. Maybe Justine and Betsy were chummier than I knew. How very progressive of them.