“Dance?” Derek said to Megan.
“Not right now, thanks.”
“Come on, that’s what we’re here for.”
“I’m sorry, but I have a boyfriend.”
“Really?” He looked around. “But he’s not here?”
“Don’t let her fool you, Derek,” Allie said. “She’s currently unattached. And she loves to dance.” She smiled innocently at Megan.
“Derek, have you met my best friend, Allie?”
A confused Derek nodded to Allie. Then he turned back to Megan. “So, do you want to dance?”
“Go,” Allie put her hand on Megan’s back and gave her a nudge.
Megan threw up her hands. “Thanks a lot,” she mouthed over her shoulder at Allie as she followed Derek out onto the dance floor. The band started a poor, and painfully slow, interpretation of “Unforgettable.”
Allie dropped down onto a chair next to Zoe.
“You do realize that you just sent my date off into hell,” Zoe said, referring to Megan.
“I didn’t know the band was going to switch into romantic mode. But you can cut in if you want to.”
“I’m not sure this crowd is ready for two women dancing together. But you just keep your merry matchmaking hands off of me.” Zoe’s chortle was cut short when Gavin and Tess floated onto the dance floor. She said in a low voice, “There’s no one here I’m interested in.”
“How are you doing?” Allie leaned in.
“I’m okay.” She smiled at Allie’s furrowed brow. “Really. It’s not like I haven’t had years to get ready for this day, right?” She sighed. “I’m just thankful for two things right now. That I’m not wearing that bridesmaid dress,” she smirked at Allie, “and that there’s an open bar.”
Allie laughed.
Zoe continued, “Actually the only thing I’m worried about is that Megan’s not strong enough to carry me home tonight.” She drank from her wine. “What about you? Why aren’t you out on the dance floor kicking up your heels?”
“Well, I am glad to be wearing heels, but I don’t think they’ve got a lot of kick in them. I’m pretty much running on empty right now.”
Zoe peered at Allie.
“Matthew was up all night with croup,” Allie said.
Zoe nodded and drained her wine glass.
“He and I camped out in the bathroom. I think I have tile marks on my butt.”
“And where was Dana during this little adventure?”
“He offered to take a shift or two, but I let him sleep. He’s been working so hard… ”
Zoe poured herself another glass of wine.
“I wouldn’t have slept anyway,” Allie said.
“How is the little man?”
“Better.” Allie checked her watch. “I should call the sitter. This is the first time Dana and I have been out for longer than an hour or so.”
“In 10 months?” Zoe’s mouth fell open.
Allie lifted her chin. “Sometimes we grab a quick dinner, but it’s hard to find a good sitter, and I have to pump if we go out for too long.” She could feel her breasts grow heavy at the thought of her little boy in his blue sleeper.
“That’s a visual I’m going to stay away from.” Zoe smiled. “But a sitter’s a sitter, right? All she has to do is plunk him in his crib.”
Allie felt a surge of anxiety. What if Matthew was crying for her? What if… She scoured the room for Dana, and saw him over at the bar, laughing in a group. She felt a pang in her heart.
“Basically. But she has to give him a bottle, read to him, rock him to sleep, and he might get upset… ” She watched Zoe’s eyes casually scan the crowd. Zoe would never understand. It was like trying to describe childbirth to the girls; they were somewhere else, back in the city, mulling over their inboxes, and Allie’s words failed her, deflated on her tongue, the intense experience becoming just a jumble of syllables strung together. She knew that there was no way she could describe her love for Matthew, how it had taken over her life to such a degree that she wasn’t even sure it was hers anymore, and that that was okay. How she could feel suffocated by his needs and moods but that the moment she had space to breathe she ached to touch him; how she dreaded his growing up and yet clapped and danced with his every achievement—first smile, first cheerio, first crawl; how in the shadow of her feelings for him she was tiny and vulnerable. Her heart, her soft underbelly was now Matthew, out of her body and so conspicuously exposed. How could Zoe understand that in her head she knew that even if Matthew cried for her, he’d be fine; that in the big picture, it didn’t matter. But in her heart it did. It mattered more than she could say.
Allie looked at her watch, and then across the room again at Dana. His back was to her.
Megan arrived back at the table with Derek close on her heels. She rolled her eyes at her two friends and sat down, her back to Derek, who stood for a moment behind her and then meandered off.
Zoe raised her eyebrows at Megan.
“What?” Megan giggled. “I said thank you. And anyway, what was that all about?” She eyeballed Allie.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t resist.” Allie smiled. “Hey, not 20 minutes ago you said you needed to date other guys so you could figure out your feelings for Jared. Derek can be your first guinea pig. And he’s cute.”
“He is cute.” She sighed. “You’re right, this is what I wanted. But now I feel like I’m betraying Jared every time I smile at someone. What’s the matter with me?”
“I don’t know, but I’m pregnant and nauseous, draped in a tent of red velvet, drinking seltzer with a limp lime. I’m hoping to live vicariously through you guys, so get to work. Have some fun!” Allie said.
“I hate to tell you this, but your yardstick for fun has deteriorated drastically,” Megan said.
“Tell me about it,” Allie said. “I feel warped. And old. And this dress isn’t doing me any favors.” She took stock of her long red velvet bridesmaid dress. “Three months pregnant is a fashion nightmare. I’ve got just enough of a belly so that my clothes don’t fit, but I’m not big enough to be obviously pregnant. I just look fat.”
“No, not your best look,” Zoe said.
Megan kicked Zoe under the table as she said, “But not mine either. And I don’t have the pregnant excuse.” Megan glanced down at her own red velvet dress.
Allie ran her hand over the velvet. “Gorgeous in theory, heinous in reality.”
“I’m not even sure it was gorgeous in theory,” Zoe said.
“Didn’t I read somewhere that the bridesmaids are sacrificial? We’re supposed to be unattractive, better for the bride’s glow,” Megan said.
“And who best for the job but the bride’s closest friends?” Allie said.
“If Jared and I ever get married, please shoot me if I’m excited about a cookie-cutter bridesmaid dress or red velvet anything.”
“That’s a deal I’m happy to make, as I could be wearing one of those scary dresses,” Zoe said.
“Should I point out that you’re still contemplating marrying Jared, yet you broke up with him?” Allie said.
“Only to underscore that I have no idea what I’m doing.” Megan pretended to pull her hair out. “Here’s this great guy, he loves me, I love him, we’re comfortable; but because I can’t tell if I’m in love with him, I’ve cast him away.”
“First of all, you haven’t cast him away,” Allie said. “You guys are just taking a breath, and like you said, Jared loves you. He’ll wait. And second of all, you guys had some issues. Not just theoretical issues, but real ones, like the fact that you worked together. That was real.”
“But it never really was about the job.” Megan held her hand up like a stop sign. “I know, that’s what I said, that was the billboard I hung on it so that I could slow it down until I had the moment of knowing. Isn’t that a thing, the
moment of knowing? But really, the job was just the most top of mind excuse I could grab onto. It was convenient.”
“But authentic,” Zoe said.
“And easily surmountable, as Jared has so aptly proven,” Megan said.
“He’s very resourceful, our Jared. Nothing’s going to stand in his way,” Zoe said.
“What’s wrong with comfortable anyway?” Allie’s eyes flicked to Dana. “Last time I checked, comfortable was a good thing. A comfortable couch, a comfortable bed; and in our house growing up, we had fistfights over the comfortable chair.”
“Except in relationships, comfortable is the kiss of death,” Megan said. “Like nice. He’s nice. We’re comfortable.”
“Some people search their whole lives to find comfortable,” Allie said.
“But that’s just it. We’re like a 50-year-old couple. We’ve arrived at a place on the spectrum of coupledom without going through the fire and angst to get there.”
They all watched Gavin and Tess click glasses. “What’s so great about angst?” Zoe said.
“What I mean, I guess, is spark.” Megan turned to Allie. “The you-and-Dana spark, the Rhett-and-Scarlet spark. You know, the can’t-live-without-him, have-to-get-naked-right-now-or-I-just-might-explode spark.”
“I think those are two separate things,” Zoe said. “And the last time we talked, getting naked wasn’t a problem with you and Jared.”
“Our sex life is good, it is. But it’s not, I don’t know, urgent.”
Allie giggled, “Like having to pee urgent?”
Megan laughed. “You know what I mean.”
Allie was about to say that urgent wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and that even if there was urgency, it could easily get buried under the landslide of other, more basic emergencies, like groceries and changing diapers. “And the can’t-live-without-him?” she asked instead.
“I guess that’s what I’m trying to find out.”
The band switched back to lively and the girls watched guests jump out of their seats, arms and legs already flapping as they made their way to the wooden dance floor.
“And where, may I ask, is your date?” Megan asked Allie.
“I’ve released him to the bar with all the non-hormonal, skinny people. He was sweet, chaining himself to me earlier, but honestly, it felt good to let him go.” She leaned back. She and Dana had both been looking forward to this wedding as a chance to unwind, a chance to refill their depleted buckets with new energy and some time together without Matthew. She wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that they were across the room from each other, laughing at different jokes, sharing this event—and conversations about their lives—with other people. “I think we’ve passed comfortable and moved on to exhausted.”
“Why don’t we go find a couch to sink into for a while? I’d love to hide from Derek, who thanks to you, now thinks he’s getting lucky tonight.”
Allie held out her hand to Megan. “If you can pull me out of this uncomfortable chair.”
Zoe asked Allie, “Can I sneak you a glass of wine?”
“Oh, that sounds good. One won’t hurt, right?”
“You’re asking me?” Zoe asked.
Allie laughed. “I’d love a glass.”
Allie found a couch and Zoe brought back three glasses of lukewarm chardonnay. Megan disappeared for a moment and returned with three pieces of white frosted wedding cake.
“Things must be bad if you’re eating cake,” Zoe said to Megan as she accepted a piece.
“I went to a killer aerobics class this morning, so I’m covered. Oh, guess who I saw there? Jane Powell.”
“Was she high-kicking people in the back?” Zoe said.
Allie looked from Megan to Zoe.
Megan laughed. “No, but she tripped me on the way to the locker room.”
Zoe’s eyes widened.
“Just kidding. I steered clear of her, I’m not sure she even saw me.”
“Who’s Jane Powell?” Allie said, hating that she needed background on the hair-trigger conversation.
“A bimbo who was backstabbing Megan at work,” Zoe said. “We stabbed her back, though. We got her believing that her boss is into her. So now she pretty much makes a fool of herself every day.”
Megan held both hands up in the air. “It was Zoe’s idea.”
Zoe rubbed her hands together. “I am slowly initiating Megan into my Machiavellian ways.”
Allie forced a chuckle and moved her wrist so she could spy her watch. She had to call the sitter.
“Hi ladies,” Dana stepped into the conversation. He put his hand on Allie’s shoulder. “How’re you doing? Do you guys need anything?”
“Actually yes, but nothing you can help with.” Zoe grinned.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Dana smiled and turned to Megan. “I ran into Jared the other day.”
“You did?” Megan sat up straight.
You did? Allie’s shoulders sagged. You never told me.
“We ended up having a beer together. I didn’t realize you’d broken up,” Dana glanced at Allie, “but he filled me in.”
Allie watched Dana talking and tried to remember the last time they had chatted about anything other than the nuts and bolts of their growing family. They were both working so hard; in the evenings they usually just sagged onto the couch together, clicked on the TV, and self-edited stories or feelings about their days down to the barest of details, down to scraps that would fit into the hole of a 60-second commercial.
“How was he?” Megan said.
Dana sat down. “Sad. I mean, he wasn’t weeping or anything, but he said he was sad. He misses you.”
“He said he was sad?”
“Unapologetically.”
Megan finished the wine in her glass.
“That’s a good thing right?” Dana asked as he surveyed the women’s faces.
“It hurts to think he’s hurting.” Megan picked at her cuticle. “But I guess I wouldn’t want to hear that he was popping champagne and hooking up with other girls either.”
She sighed, her eyes shuffling between Allie and Dana. “You guys don’t know how lucky you are. You’re through all this jockeying for relationship clarification. Now you’re just sailing along.”
Allie and Dana caught eyes for a moment; then with a blink, their connection was broken.
Allie was glad that she had cake in her mouth and couldn’t reply that they may be sailing along, but it often felt like they were on different ships.
————
Only a few miles away from Megan’s grungy commute, the snow in the suburbs dressed the shivering trees in white velvet and sequins. Matthew’s first snowfall! Allie jumped out of bed into the chill of the morning and rushed to the window. The last fat flakes were drifting in the breeze, floating down onto a yard that had become white frosting overnight. She pulled on a sweater and thick socks, and flew down the stairs to see what Dana thought of the snow. “Dana!”
The note on the table was her answer; he had left for work early because of it. She laid her hand over the words for a moment, then slid the note into the garbage. She clicked on the TV and flooded the kitchen with the gang from the Today show.
At Matthew’s cry, she sprinted up the stairs and burst into his room. “Good morning handsome.” He grinned and held up his arms. She gathered him up, held him close, breathed in his sleepy smell. “Okay, okay.” She smiled as he fumbled with her shirt. She settled onto the chair in his room with his head in the crook of her arm and Matthew drank from her breasts hungrily, his eyes twinkling at her while he sucked. This was one of her favorite times of day, just the two of them connected in a quiet hush. For a few precious minutes, she didn’t rush to fill the world with music, TV; she didn’t panic in the silence, she reveled in it.
“I have a surprise
for you,” she said as she bundled him up in his blue snowsuit. “See the snow out there? No, keep your mittens on,” she said as he started to pull them off. She laughed as he pulled at his hat. “Your hat too.” She smoothed it back down on his head and kissed his nose.
“Ready?” She wedged his Michelin-man bulk into the backpack and they set out into the whispering white grandeur.
It was slow going; even on the semi-plowed street her boots sunk to mid-calf. The crunch, crunch of the snow and her soft monologue with Matthew were the only variance in the snowy hush; the world had bowed to nature and was holding its breath, one long exhale on the weekday chaos. As she chatted with her son, a thick mist swirled in and around her voice—“See the bird? Look at the smoke snaking out of that chimney!” She imagined aloud for Matthew the scene in each of the houses they passed: fires crackling, pancakes flipping, kids burrowing into their down comforters, grateful for the unexpected day off. Occasionally Matthew answered her with a sweet gurgle or a brush of his wool mitten on her cheek.
Back home, she flipped on the music—a little Bach before she switched into top-40 pop—and opened the fridge to a cornucopia of homemade baby food. She warmed pureed pears for Matthew and percolated coffee for herself. Then she let him loose in the playroom to pull himself up and “cruise” the edges of the wooden side tables and oak bookcases lined with child development advice and award-winning children’s books. She trailed him closely, alternately warning “careful” and thrusting out her hands, and cheering his attempts to steady himself.
Finally, when both of them were tired, she read him a story and put him down for his first nap of the day. She jumped into the shower, and as she closed her eyes and rubbed shampoo into her hair, remembered that she hadn’t had breakfast yet.
————
Zoe reclined in a salon chair at Cashmere, her knee-high black boots still glistening with wet snow. Her head was jammed into a white porcelain sink and the painful crick in her neck shrieked over any relaxation that the shampoo girl was trying to massage into her scalp. She wasn’t sure if relaxation was something she could attain anyway, as she was still smarting from the slap of Gavin’s wedding a few days ago. The whole miserable event looped endlessly through her thoughts, like a bad song on the morning alarm clock that becomes mental muzak for the rest of the day. She craved a cocktail, but as she was on her lunch hour and due back in the office, she had settled on a haircut and blow-dry instead. The cocktail was going to have to wait a few hours. But just a few.
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