by Deanna Kizis
“Hi,” I said, standing above them.
“Oh. Hi,” she said, and they both started laughing again like I was the punch line for some in-joke.
I turned to the guy: “And who are you?”
“Jeff.”
Jeff? I looked at Audrey.
“Jeff was in that Gap commercial,” she said, looking supremely satisfied.
I said, “Ah.”
“Something from the bar?” Jeff asked, standing up. She nodded, and he made his way past me—without asking if I wanted anything, by the way—and sauntered off with a smirk. From the looks of things, she’d had at least another margarita, if not two, since the last time I saw her.
“Audrey?” I said. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
She looked up at me, stuck her chin out. “What the fuck is with your tone?”
I was surprised she’d said the F-word. She never used the F-word.
Not to be outdone, I said, “What the fuck is with hanging all over some guy who screamed ‘Mambo!’ on TV?”
She stood up. “What the fuck is with you asking what I’m fucking up with when you’re the one who’s so fucking fabulous all the time and can’t let anyone else have fun?” And then she flopped back into the lounge chair.
“Have another drink, Audrey.”
She waved me off. “Ben, I’m having a good time. Is that okay?”
Oh, so that’s how it was going to be. I told her that if she wanted to have “fun” with some complete stranger/cheeseball, it was fine with me. “Go ahead—flirt with the Mambo guy,” I said. “And when you’ve come to your senses? Maybe I’ll still be nice enough to drive you home.”
I turned on my heel and stalked off, determined to find someone besides her to talk to. Before I passed through the sliding-glass doors, I saw Audrey downing yet another drink and putting her head on Jeff’s chest because she was laughing so hard.
I grabbed another whiskey margarita and sat down in the bar to pout. I couldn’t believe I’d thoughtfully cleaned my apartment just so Aud could come down and take over my party. Besides, I thought, she’s supposed to be my wingman while I flirt with new boys. I looked back over my shoulder and—what the hell was this?—she was now kissing the Mambo guy. It was really unbelievable.
No, I decided. This is too much. I was going back over there, and I was going to knock some sense into her. I was the crazy sister who dated younger men and slept around with MTV employees. She would have to play the stable sister getting married—with the big fat ring that she waved in my face all the time to prove it. I grabbed the sticky glass and started to cross the lobby—again—when two things happened simultaneously.
One, I saw Jamie walking toward the pool in a powder blue Polo shirt, head swiveling from side to side like a lighthouse. It instantly dawned on me that Miss Party in Her Pants must have told him we were coming here to see if he’d want to meet up. Clearly she’d forgotten. We needed to spend some sister time together. As if.
Two, Max. Walking right toward me.
I stopped dead in my tracks, not sure what to do. Break right, and save Audrey’s irritating marriage? Or stay put, and talk to Max for the first time in months? It was a toss-up. I looked back toward the pool—wait, Audrey was gone. Jamie was gone. Even the Mambo guy, gone.
Mmmm … Perhaps disaster had been averted without my help. Or they were all fighting in the bushes. Either way, I decided I could spare a minute. Just a superquick minute before I went to check on my sister. Yes. Max hadn’t seen me yet, the party was crowded, but he was about to. He looked … really good. His hair was getting long—kind of John Lennon after the Beatles split up. I brushed my hair from my eyes and stood still while trying not to look like I was just cooling my heels waiting for him.
And he got closer.
And closer.
He was going to see me any minute now.
His eyes flicked in my direction.
I thought, This is it, and tried to think of my opening line—maybe something charming/casual/funny—and then
he walked
right
by.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”
“Sorry?” I was stunned into complete paralysis. Max was heading out the double doors onto the street.
“DUDE CHANDRA MCINERNEY JUST WENT APESHIT IN THERE THIS IS AMAZING EVERYONE WILL PICK UP THESE PICTURES DO YOU THINK THAT MAYBE I’LL GET INTERVIEWED FOR PEOPLE OR INSTYLE OH MY GOD I’LL BE THE NEXT LIZZIE GRUBMAN BUT THIS TIME THE MOVIE STAR IS THE ONE WHO GOES POSTAL AND I’M THE HEROIC PUBLICIST WHO SAVES THE DAY!”
It was Steph, beside herself with glee. Chandra’s public detonation at her party was a true coup. But I was too busy gawking over her shoulder to revel. I watched Max give his ticket to the valet and then, when his car came, get in. He paused for a moment and I had the irrational thought that maybe he was having second thoughts and was about to run back inside to find me. But then he started the engine and peeled out. From what I could tell, he didn’t look back. Not once. But I knew he’d seen me. I saw him see me.
“Steph, I’m sorry but I have to find a bathroom.”
I walked/ran to the nearest facilities and locked myself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat and hugging my knees. It was as though I’d been physically hit. I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to hold back any weird sobby noises I was about to make. There were two girls at the sinks talking loudly and fixing their makeup and I wanted to have my meltdown in peace.
“Did you see—I mean it was so …” one said.
“Amazing. Totally fucking amazing …” the other said.
“She took out the waitress and two busboys.”
“She’s so street …”
“Legit …”
“Love her movies …”
“Me too!”
Finally I heard them singing Chandra’s praises as they walked down the marble hall back toward the lobby, hoping they’d get another glimpse of her. I was sure Krantz had whisked her off by now and at that moment was probably in the back of some limo actually telling Chandra the waitress deserved it.
I held my breath. I wanted to make sure there was nobody else in the bathroom. When ten more seconds passed without a sound, I sniffled. Then I blew my nose. And I sniffled again.
But then I thought I heard a sniffle.
I sniffled.
Sniffle.
Was that my sniffle echoing, I thought, or someone else’s sniffle?
I sniffled.
Sniffle.
“Who’s there?” I said.
No answer.
So I waited, completely silent, dying to sniffle but not letting myself, and then, Sniffle.
“Who is that?”
A little voice: “Nobody.”
Unbelievable.
“Audrey, is that you?”
“No.”
Great. I looked at the ceiling and sighed. She had to be here for this, right?
“Audrey, it’s Ben.”
Sniffle, sniffle. From the sound of it, she was about three or four stalls down.
“Oh,” she said. “Great.”
“Wait, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
The booming echo of a blowing nose resonated through the empty room.
“He found you, didn’t he?” I said.
There was silence. I read bathroom graffiti to pass the time. Right in front of my face someone had written the words, YOU ARE AWFUL. The room was amplifying everything, and I could hear Audrey breathing so I knew she was still there. The air was sharp with disinfectant and air-conditioning. My head hurt. After a minute, her voice bounced gently off the tiles.
“He’s probably already driving back to San Francisco,” she said.
“Oh, Audrey. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I just … I was having fun. For once.”
“Come on. You have fun all the time.”
“Yeah right.” She blew her nose again. “Not like you. With your fabul
ous job. Your fabulous friends …” She laughed a little. “They obviously hate what I’m wearing. Even I hate what I’m wearing … Oh fuck it. Maybe marriage is just something to do.”
“Are you joking?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “My friends are psychos.”
“They are not.”
“Yes they are. Nina’s slept with half the staff at Whole Foods. Chandra is violent, she’s a complete hypochondriac, and she thinks her assistant has put a contract on her head. That Collin guy is a professional ass kisser. And on top of it all I just saw Max outside and he totally snubbed me. Didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Trust me, you don’t want my life.”
“Maybe,” she said. I exhaled. But then she said, “Maybe I do.”
Suddenly, inexplicably, I found myself rushing to defend her traditional choices, her commando fiancé … “Audrey, you’re crazy!” I said. “Jamie loves you. He gave you a ring. He can make a commitment. Do you have any idea how HARD IT IS TO FIND A HALF-DECENT GUY WHO WILL MAKE A COMMITMENT?”
I begged her to tell him I’d gotten her drunk. To say that I’d left her alone to get harassed by some hideously drunken commercial actor. “Blame it on me,” I said. “Everyone will believe it if you blame it on me.”
“Ben, calm down,” she interrupted. “It’s not like it’s happening to you.” Then she said, “Do you think you and I have nothing in common anymore?”
I thought about this for a second, fiddling with the toilet paper roll. “Well, we’re both in the bathroom crying at the same time over our completely destroyed relationships,” I said.
“Good point.”
“And we probably both need a drink right about now.”
“True. But can we go somewhere that has white wine? I like white wine.”
“Sure.”
“And Ben?”
“What?”
“Can I borrow your lip gloss?”
“The one I’m wearing?”
“I like it.”
I said of course.
When Audrey was little, she used to break into my room and go through all my makeup, try on all my clothes, scratch my favorite records. I hated it. Begged my mom to have locks installed on my door. She refused, so I hung a sign outside my room that said, NO ENTRY PERMITTED WITHOUT EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE MANAGEMENT! While I rummaged through my purse looking for the lip gloss, it dawned on me that maybe it wasn’t the sign that made Audrey stop breaking in, but the fact that I’d hung it up at all.
I took a tissue and smeared it under each eye, checking to see if it came away black with mascara, and stood up, straightening my skirt. Aud came out of the stall doing the same. I handed her the tube of lip stuff. It was almost empty, but probably enough for one more coat.
“Know what, Audrey?” I said, putting my arm around her. “This’ll probably look really good on you.”
“Are you completely insane?”
It turned out Audrey didn’t have to blame me. That had happened all on its own, and the Mother had been yelling since she’d called at 9 A.M., way before my scheduled wake-up time.
“But it’s not my fault!” I said when she came up for air. “She wanted to talk to the Mambo guy. She wanted to drink drinks with the Mambo guy. And then she decided to kiss the Mambo guy. I tried to talk her out of it. I was like, ‘Now, Audrey, you can’t just go around …’ ”
She cut me off. “I guess your sister will just have to figure it out the hard way. She’ll have to learn, just like I did, that you can party through your twenties, but you can never get back the years you wasted on men, and booze, and cheap sex.”
“Yeah, well, those don’t really sound like wasted years to me, Mom. And you used to agree with me on that.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then why did you call me?”
“I can’t remember.”
She hung up.
Even my dad, Mr. Free to Be You and Me, was less than thrilled. He sent an e-mail from Costa Rica that was four words long: “Nice work. Aloha, Dad.”
Audrey had been causing one to-do after another since the party. First she flew back to San Francisco and told Jamie she needed time to think. Then she packed her bags and took off to stay with a college friend who lived in New York and apparently had some great job doing product research for Urban Outfitters. Her wedding, which Audrey hadn’t exactly said was on and hadn’t exactly said was off, was exactly six weeks away. Not much time to reunite the happy couple. Not to mention the fact that if they didn’t get back together within the next two weeks, the Mother was going to lose her deposit on the church. She was threatening to sue me for the expenses, plus emotional distress. I told myself she was just kidding.
The phone had been ringing off the hook all morning—so much so I didn’t even have a chance to change out of my pajamas. The next call came from Audrey, and I braced myself for another tirade—she was probably regretting what she’d done by now and looking for a scapegoat. Except, surprisingly, she sounded like she was having a fantastic time.
“Can you believe I’m in Manhattan!” she gushed. “I’ve never gone anywhere alone before. Sharon lives in this great loft in Chelson—”
“Chelsea.”
“Whatever! And she says she’s going to introduce me to lots of cute guys who I can flirt with as much as I want!”
I made a last-ditch attempt. “And what will Jamie be doing while you’re slutting it up in Chelson?”
“I’m not slutting it up. I’m doing what you would do and I like it.” I heard a clink.
“Are you drinking?” I asked. It was only twelve-thirty in the afternoon in New York.
“Kiwi martinis, why?” she said. “Look, I want to hang out a little bit, do my own thing, not think about consequences. You should understand.”
I lit a cigarette. Thanks to years of hanging out, the only constant in my life was my nicotine habit. And now I’d created this monster.
“So what happened with Max?” Audrey asked. It was probably the first question she’d asked me in years that didn’t seem vaguely hostile.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. I almost started to gloss it over, but then I decided to just let the facts speak for themselves. “I’m positive he saw me at that party, but he hasn’t called to explain why he acted like that.”
“You’re disappointed.”
“Yes, I guess I am.”
“You thought he’d change his mind.”
“I thought he’d realize that deep down I wanted the same things he did.” I sighed. “I mean, I was happy. I didn’t need a superserious relationship, I just needed to know where I stood.”
Audrey paused. Then she said, “You know, I never said anything before, because I didn’t know how you would take it, but sometimes to get what you really want, you first have to admit to yourself what it is.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I think you should have just skipped all the maneuvering and said out loud that you wanted a commitment from Max. That you wanted to be his girlfriend, that you wanted his love and devotion—the whole enchilada—and if he said he didn’t want those things, too, at least you would have been able to just go on with your life.”
“Well.” I was taken aback by this sudden insight—especially from Audrey, of all people. I didn’t know what to say. So I finally laughed and said, “Thank you very much, Mrs. Future Republicans of America.”
She laughed too and said she had to go—she was meeting “friends” for drinks later at Bungalow 8 and wanted to go shopping in SoHo for something fabulous to wear.
On top of it all there was Finn, who’d been calling several times a day for the last week and leaving horrible messages that went something like, “Be-e-en! Come to Scotland with me! I leave in four days—still time to pack! The entire country awaits you! Say you will Be-e-en …”
In fact, that was probably him calling again. I still didn’t know if I wanted to go—I changed my mind about every five m
inutes. If I did go, I had to get in some pitch ideas to Kiki first. Lately trying to think of a story was harder than a home bikini wax. Sure, I could have pitched “What to Do When You’ve Inadvertently Ruined Your Sister’s Life.” Or maybe “Go or Stay: You’ve Been Invited for a Thrilling Weekend Away with a Needy Maniac, Now What?” But those didn’t seem quite right.
“Jesus Christ,” I said to the ringing phone. “I’m coming.”
I hopscotched over my latest shopping purchases—which were strewn around the room, still in their bags—and trod on Freak, who was sleeping on the floor in a patch of sun. He bit my ankle. Hard.
“Finn,” I said, picking up, “if you keep calling me I’m never going to get any work done and then there’s no way I’ll be able to come with you.”
“Who’s Finn?”
“Hello?”
My breath. It was gone.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he said. Then, “How are you?”
I couldn’t talk.
“B, are you there?”
“I’m here.” I tried to put some casualness in my voice. Max and I hadn’t spoken in so long, I felt like I should at least sound okay. Even if I had no idea if I actually was okay.
“Well, how’ve you been?”
“I’m doing good,” I said. “Doing really good, actually. Everything is just … good. How are you?”
“Good.”
“That’s good.”
Enough with the goods already. I waited for him to say something else. He didn’t. And just like every other time, I couldn’t let the space be. I had to fill it. I opened my mouth to fill the void.
I said, “I thought I saw you at a party the other night.”
“Really? Where?”
“The Standard.”
“Oh. I didn’t see you.”
“You walked right by me.”
“Huh.” I heard his lighter click, and then he exhaled. “I didn’t see you.”
Okay, I wanted to say, then what do you want? Instead I waited for him to take the lead. But again, he didn’t say anything.