“I can’t believe they still live there,” Claire said. She looked out at the house, a normal two-story brick house with yellow awnings. It looked dark and quiet.
“It’s their home,” Weezy said. “They shouldn’t feel like they have to run away.”
“I would. I would leave the town, leave the whole state, probably go all the way across the country. I’d go somewhere where people didn’t recognize my name and my face. Wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“It has to be so miserable there. To stay in that house with all of those memories.”
“Maybe they remember the good things that happened there.”
“Would that really be what you remember?”
“Some people don’t have the tools to start over when something like that happens,” Weezy said. “Some people could, but other people—they just stop, and stay where they are and that’s that.”
“Sarah was always weird,” Claire said. It was the first thing that she and Martha had agreed on after the strange and tragic day happened. “She was always a little off,” Martha had said. Sarah had been a year ahead of Martha in school, and Hilary was a year younger than Claire. There was one picture of the four girls playing in the backyard one summer, all in bathing suits, laughing and running through the sprinkler. Claire couldn’t remember it.
“It was the drugs,” Weezy said. “She got mixed up with the wrong people.” They’d had this exact conversation dozens of times since the whole thing had happened, but somehow it never got old.
“I guess,” Claire said. “Poor Hilary.” She imagined the girl grocery shopping, lugging bags over to the house that her parents didn’t leave. How creepy.
Sarah had once stolen a toy of Claire’s, a little plastic Care Bear that had been a Valentine’s Day present. Claire had asked Weezy if she could take it to school to show her friends, and Weezy said no, so Claire snuck it in her backpack in the morning. That night, when she realized that she’d forgotten it in her desk, she started to cry.
The next morning, Weezy walked into the classroom with her, assuring her that it would still be there, but it wasn’t. That day, on the playground, Sarah Connors had a little blue bear in her hand.
“That’s mine,” Claire yelled. She told the teachers, but no one could prove that Sarah had walked through the classroom and stolen the bear. She told Weezy that night, but there was nothing to be done.
“I told you not to take it to school,” Weezy said, as Claire cried. She was firm on this point, although when Claire woke up that Saturday, there was a new little blue bear on her nightstand.
But it wasn’t the same. Claire wanted the original bear, the one that had been taken. She hated the thought of it’s being at the Connors house, which was dirty and smelled like mothballs. “Your sister stole my bear,” she said to Hilary once. Hilary just shrugged and looked embarrassed. You couldn’t blame her, Claire knew. She couldn’t pick who her sister was.
CLAIRE PUT ON THE SAME OUTFIT that she’d worn to the temp interview and drove to the office of Proof Perfect, where she was set to meet the woman she’d be filling in for and a few others.
Amanda Liebman met her at the elevator, looking like she was about to give birth right there in the front lobby. She had both of her hands on her back, and was red in the face. “Claire?” she asked. Claire nodded and Amanda puffed a little as she turned and motioned for Claire to follow.
Amanda sat at a desk at the front of the office. Behind her, on the wall, hung letters that spelled out PROOF PERFECT. There was a hallway to the right and left, but all the offices that Claire saw had their doors closed. Once they were seated at her desk, Amanda seemed a little calmer. “I’m carrying around so much extra weight at this point that even standing feels impossible.”
Claire nodded again. “When are you due?”
“In two weeks, but I want to keep working up until the very end so that I can take all of my time with the baby. I’ve already saved up all my vacation and personal and sick days, which wasn’t easy, so I don’t want to waste it now just lying around and waiting.”
“Right.”
“So, my title is Office Manager and Senior Executive Assistant. Basically, that means that I answer the phones, and then do whatever the account managers want me to do, or don’t want to do for themselves. It’s a lot of Xeroxing and other random stuff. All the higher-up people have their own assistants, so you don’t have to worry about them.”
“Okay.”
“Some of the managers are a pain in the ass, but it’s not rocket science, so you’ll be fine.”
Amanda went on to show her the phones.
“So, will they let me know if I get the job?”
“Oh, you got it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Everyone else that comes in here wants a permanent job. They’re hoping to get placed here after this job is done. You’re the only one that wants it for what it is. So, congratulations, it’s yours.”
“Great,” Claire said. She wasn’t sure that it was.
Amanda started to get up to walk her to the elevator, but Claire told her she could get there on her own. She was just walking out into the lobby when Amanda called her name.
“One more thing,” she said. She stuck out her foot from behind the desk. “The dress code says no sandals, but my feet are too fat to wear any of my shoes right now, so fuck it. But if you come in wearing sandals, they’ll go ape shit.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
CLAIRE WENT OVER TO LAINIE’S that night to drink wine. It was still pretty warm out, even at the end of September, and the two of them sat on chairs on the porch, a bottle of wine between them. Brian was inside on the couch, asleep with his mouth open and the TV on.
She couldn’t get over the fact that Lainie lived with her husband and three children in a house that was down the street from where Claire grew up. How had this happened? Lainie became more adult every day, and Claire was back sleeping in her childhood bedroom.
“So you got a job already,” Lainie said. “That’s good news.” She held up her glass and Claire clinked it, then the two of them drank.
“I guess so. The thing is I don’t start until this lady has her baby. It could be tomorrow or it could be in three weeks, which sort of sucks.”
“Then just relax. You’ve been not working for like a week. You should sleep in and enjoy yourself.”
“I can’t. At least not in that house. I just feel like I should be doing something, not sitting around all day with my parents and Martha. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Really? It sounds amazing. You can do whatever you want.” Lainie had grown up in the middle of five sisters, who shared everything from underwear to makeup. She’d never had her own room, and Claire was pretty sure she’d never want to.
“It’s not. It’s just really boring. All I want is to not stay there all day.”
Lainie looked sideways at her. “Do you want to babysit?”
“For you?”
“Yeah, for me. Our nanny’s mom is sick and she’s going home for a couple of weeks. I was going to ask Kristen to do it, and then get my mom and Brian’s mom to fill in, but if you’re really looking for something to do, that would be awesome. It’s just for the mornings, mostly, and some early afternoons.”
“Sure,” Claire said. “Why not?” She hadn’t babysat in years.
“Great,” Lainie said. She smiled and sat back like she’d figured everything out. “Plus I’ll give you free classes at the studio.”
“You already do that.”
“Yeah, but now you’ll really earn it.”
CLAIRE HAD FORGOTTEN HOW BORING babysitting actually was. She’d blocked out the way that when a four-year-old is building a tower out of blocks, sometimes all you can do is keep looking at the clock, sure it’s standing still or maybe even going backward. Babysitting could be so quiet, so devoid of conversation, and just when she thought she’d go crazy, it became loud, a fever pitch of whines and scre
ams and toys hitting the floor.
Claire remembered babysitting for Bobby Foley once, the summer he was obsessed with Pokemon, and they’d been sitting on the floor in his bedroom playing. He started showing her all the Pokemon cards that he had, explaining to her the difference between the characters, how some could fly and some could run fast, and she’d been nodding and then just lay down on the floor while he went on, seriously, ranking his favorites, telling her what who would win in a fight.
She’d murmured, “Mmm-hmm” every once in a while, closed her eyes for just a second, and then woke up twenty minutes later when the door downstairs slammed shut. Bobby was still next to her, babbling on, and she didn’t even think he noticed that she’d been sleeping. Claire had shot straight up and wiped the drool off her face, her heart pounding as she tried to look awake before Mrs. Foley came in the room.
She’d been horrified after that, felt like the world’s most irresponsible babysitter. And now she was babysitting again, spending her days with three little boys, who seemed just as bored with her as she was with them, glancing at her every once in a while to see if she was still there. Tucker screamed every time Lainie left, and then spent the rest of the time wandering his pudgy baby body around the house, picking up anything that wasn’t nailed down—shoes, the remote control, cell phones, coasters—and rearranging all of it. Every once in a while he’d stop to stare at Claire, trying to figure out if she was responsible for the absence of his mother.
Jack didn’t seem to be taking to the situation any better. He was a judgmental child and always had been. When he was a baby, he’d look around the room at everyone, his mouth turned down, his dark eyes taking everything in. Lainie had taken Jack everywhere with her, to bars or friends’ houses, where they would put him to sleep in a bed, with jackets stuffed on either side of him so he wouldn’t roll off. He’d stare at them while they drank wine, his little baby lips pursing and un-pursing as he listened to them talk. Now, when Claire arrived, he gave her the same look, as though he couldn’t quite figure out what she was doing at his house. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t know what she was doing there either.
Each morning when Claire arrived, the boys were half-naked—sometimes in just a diaper, sometimes wearing a shirt, or one sock, or a pair of pants. Lainie was always rushing around no matter what time it was, pausing to put an item of clothing on one of the boys, or stopping to smell their butts to see if they needed a new diaper. Claire would stand in the corner and watch as Lainie raced around and finally ran out the door. It made her tired just to watch.
The third morning she was there, Claire poured Jack some cereal and leaned against the counter to watch him eat. Jack took a bite and then looked up at her. “This milk tastes spicy,” he said.
“It tastes spicy?” Claire asked and Jack nodded. Claire picked up the carton and sniffed it, and a thick, sour smell hit her nose right away. She gagged twice and ran over to the sink, sure she was going to throw up.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.
“Nothing,” Claire said. “Don’t eat that, okay? The milk is bad.” She took the bowl from him and poured it down the sink, holding her breath as she washed the little O-shaped pieces of cereal down the disposal. She went to the refrigerator and looked at the options. “Do you want some toast?”
“Are you having a baby?” Jack asked.
“What? No.”
Jack shrugged. “That’s what my mom does when she’s having a baby,” he said.
“Right,” Claire said. “It was just that the milk made me feel sick.”
“Milk is good for you,” Jack said.
“You’re right, it is.”
“Do you have any babies?”
“Nope. No babies.”
“Who is your mom?”
“My mom is Weezy. You know her, she lives down the street. And you know my dad, Will, and my sister, Martha. And you’ve even met my brother, Max.”
“Weezy is your mom?” Jack asked. He looked like he didn’t believe her for a second.
“Yep.”
“Do you live with her?”
“I do now. I was living somewhere else, but I moved back.”
“I’m never leaving my mom,” Jack said.
“Okay,” Claire said.
“I don’t think Weezy is your mom,” Jack said. “Because we see her when we go to the playground sometimes.”
“Okay,” Claire said. “Whatever you say.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Claire was exhausted by these conversations. Exhausted from sitting around and watching Jack and Tucker play. The one thing she did like about babysitting was holding Matthew. He was at a great age—small enough that he was nothing but a bundle of baby, but big enough that she wasn’t afraid she was going to break him.
She liked holding him while the other two boys napped, feeling his solid little weight in her arms. He was totally relaxed, his mouth slightly open, and every once in a while his chin would quiver, and he’d sigh. Claire was jealous of him while he slept, and hoped that if she held that warm little body, some of his calmness would rub off on her.
SOMETIMES AFTER LAINIE WOULD GET HOME, Claire would just end up staying at the house for a little while. It was so much easier to be there than to be at her own house. She’d watch as Lainie and Brian came back from work and still never stopped moving, making the boys dinner and getting them ready for bed. Claire at least liked the feeling of being able to sit and watch, knowing she wasn’t responsible for any of it.
It also amazed her how easily Lainie had become a mother. When she was first pregnant with Jack, Claire couldn’t believe it. But then Lainie had the baby, and she walked around with Jack popped out on her hip, like he’d always been there. Then she had the next two, and she was a mother of three. There was no adjustment period, she just did it. How had it been so easy for her? Claire had barely gotten to the first step of creating that life and it had all fallen apart.
“We’re going to have a party,” Lainie said one night. She was walking around the room, gathering all of the toys and shoes and socks that had been thrown around during the day. She picked it all up in her arms and then dumped it in the bin in the corner of the room.
Lainie loved having parties and used any excuse to do so. Claire suspected that she loved having everyone come to her, but no one minded because Lainie always threw a good party.
“Yeah, doesn’t that seem like a good idea?” Brian asked Claire. “Lainie just put a banana peel into the toy box and she wants to have a hundred people over here this weekend.”
“I didn’t put a—oh, wait. Yes, I did,” Lainie said as she pulled a banana peel out from the toys. “Why didn’t you tell me? Anyway, it’s not going to be a hundred people.” She turned to roll her eyes and shake her head at Brian. “Just a party for fall, one last time to barbecue before it’s too cold. Plus, Claire’s back, so we should celebrate that. We have to have a party.”
“Sounds like fun,” Claire said. It was her last day babysitting for the boys. The nanny had returned earlier in the week and was coming back to work. (“Thank God,” Brian had said. “I had this feeling she was never coming back to the country.”) Claire would be starting work soon anyway. Amanda had called to tell her that if she didn’t go into labor this week, they’d be inducing her on Monday.
“Do you want to come take a class tomorrow?” Lainie asked. She was always trying to get Claire to the studio, trying to convert her to the world of Pilates. But Claire was hesitant—the machines frightened her. Still, she agreed since she had nothing else to do.
AT THE PILATES STUDIO, LAINIE WAS treated like a celebrity. She introduced all the women to Claire as though they were her close friends. “This is Barbara and this is Joanie. I’m so glad you are getting a chance to meet!” She acted like these middle-aged women with fallen stomachs and wiggly arms were the same age she was, just a bunch of gal pals getting ready to work out together.
Lainie had starte
d taking Pilates right after Jack was born, and the teacher was so impressed with her that she suggested she do the teacher training. “But you’ve been going to the classes for like two months,” Claire remembered saying to her.
“I know, it’s crazy,” was Lainie’s response.
And it was crazy, how Lainie stumbled onto this career. She’d never done well in school, which Claire thought was mostly because she never wanted to sit down long enough to study or do homework. She rushed through everything, scribbling down answers to tests, knowing that they were probably wrong. It was like she was just trying to get on to the next thing. She was never bothered by her grades; she’d just look at her B’s and C’s and nod, like Yep, that’s about what I expected.
But at the studio, Lainie excelled. She quickly became one of the most popular teachers there. Her classes were always full, and they kept adding more to her schedule. One day, a student of hers approached her and asked if she’d ever thought about starting her own studio. “I’d back you,” the woman said. “I’ll be an investor. I know you’d be wildly successful.”
And she had been. Lainie always called that woman her Fairy Godmother, which seemed perfect to Claire, because at least then Lainie was acknowledging that she was living in a fairy tale. Two years later, a large portion of the studio’s mortgage had been paid off, Lainie had hired three other teachers, and the place was thriving.
Claire was always amazed when she went to the studio. Amazed at the way these women flocked there, not for Pilates, but for Lainie. They seemed to think that if they remained devoted, they would one day turn into her. There were loads of women in their thirties who had just had children and believed that Lainie could save them, could get them back to the body they used to have. They’d look at her and think, Well, she’s had three children, and look at her. All I need to do is some Pilates! They were Lainie’s disciples, her faithful following. They believed.
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