by Jane Green
“That’s totally freaky,” she says. “But I get it. My dad has this thing about California. He’s convinced that the whole state’s going to fall into a fault line and disappear in some ginormous earthquake or tsunami or something. He was there during an earthquake once, and he said it was terrifying and he won’t risk his family, even though he’s also been there a ton. But if your parents are freaked out about New York, you could always stay with me in Connecticut. I’m about forty-five minutes outside of New York. Maybe he’d be okay with Connecticut.”
Eve shrugs. “I think our safest bet is for him to know nothing.”
“I so hope you come out here. By the way, my brother Chris saw some of your Facebook pictures, and he thinks you’re totally hot.”
Claudia nudges Eve. “I hate you!” she teases. “Her brother’s so hot!”
Eve blushes. “Really?”
“Really. He’d definitely be happy if you came and stayed out in Connecticut. He’s going to be around later, if you want to iChat with him.…” She winks.
Eve laughs before groaning. “If my mom says no to this weekend, I think I might kill myself.”
“She’s not going to say no,” Claudia says firmly. “My mom won’t let her.”
* * *
Downstairs, Angie looks at Sylvie. “So. What are you thinking?”
Sylvie sighs deeply. “I can’t not tell Mark. I just couldn’t be that dishonest.”
“What if you asked forgiveness rather than permission?” Angie says. “We have more damned air miles than I know what to do with, so I’ll book the flight with miles.”
“I can’t take your money.” Sylvie, aghast, shakes her head.
“First of all, you’re not taking money. It’s air miles. Second of all, you’re my best friend, so yes, you can. Sylvie, there is no reason why Eve shouldn’t go. She and Claudia are the most sensible girls in the grade, and they’re best friends. Very soon, the pair of them are going to be leaving, then that’s it. You want her coming back, and you want her memories of home to be good. We all know this is one of Mark’s crazy things, and as long as you tell him when she’s en route, there’s nothing he can do. So he might get angry. So what? He’ll get over it.”
“I know you’re right.” Sylvie sighs again. “It just feels … deceitful.”
“Sylvie!” Angie berates, growing exasperated. “It isn’t deceitful. It’s fine. They need to go off and learn what it is to be a little bit independent, for God’s sake. We’ve got girls who have no idea how to raise a little hell. The least we can do is send them away and pray someone forces drugs on them.”
“Angie!” Sylvie admonishes, but she’s laughing.
“You know I’m right, don’t you?”
“No. But I think you might have persuaded me to pretend.” Sylvie smiles, instantly feeling better. “I’ll call Mark and ask him. If I can reach him, fine. If I can’t, then I’ll make the decision on my own.”
“Good girl,” Angie says, Sylvie instantly feeling better.
* * *
Angie is the kind of woman other women ought to hate. At first glance, they are inevitably threatened by her looks, her body, her height, but as soon as they meet her, they are enveloped in her warm exuberance, her boisterous humor, her loyalty and kindness.
She is a study in contrasts, the reason, Simon always says, for the success of their marriage.
“She’s like Sybil,” he’ll sigh, rolling his eyes but casting an affectionate glance at his wife. “You never know which Angie you’re going to get.”
Sylvie is fascinated by Angie’s self-confidence, her comfort in her skin, her ability to set boundaries. At parties Angie is the life and soul, but should anyone make the mistake of overstepping the mark, or flirting just a touch too dangerously with the tall gorgeous redhead, she will politely and firmly shut them down.
She doesn’t need to undergo an attempt at a pickup in order to feel beautiful. She doesn’t need a stranger to tell her she’s gorgeous in order to feel validated. She has been told those things all her life. It means nothing.
What matters to Angie is her family. Her friends. Loyalty. Trust. Having fun, and knowing when to draw the line. It is precisely the reason why Sylvie loves her so much.
18
Eve
Eve and Claudia, shuffling through JFK, giggling with the excitement of their prospective weekend, falter only when they step into the arrivals hall.
Members of the multicolored melting pot—hordes of people chattering in every language imaginable—lean over the barriers, in places five deep, waving and shrieking as they spy their long-lost relatives. Glum-looking drivers stand dispiritedly, holding boards or white pieces of paper on which are scribbled names, halfheartedly attempting to make a connection with every newly arrived passenger.
“Oh shit.” Claudia grinds to a halt, the smile sliding off her face. “How are we supposed to find her in all these people? She’s not answering her texts. Let’s walk out and see if we can find her.”
Eve’s excitement is replaced with a familiar anxiety. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. Of late, she hasn’t been good at dealing with change, particularly last-minute change. She likes things to be planned, likes to know what is expected, and any untoward circumstances bring up a sense of panic that can be hard to control.
“Are you okay?” Claudia looks at her friend, noting that something appears to be wrong. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m okay,” Eve lies, although she’s not.
“Eve? This is going to be fine.”
Eve hears Claudia’s reassurance, but she can’t be reassured, not once she has set off down this path.
She loves Claudia; Claudia is her best friend in the world, but Claudia doesn’t understand anymore what it’s like to be Eve. How could Claudia understand when she has never lost anyone close to her, when she doesn’t have to worry about her weight, even though she says she does, when her life runs so smoothly, even though she thinks it doesn’t.
Eve can feel them drifting apart, and she wants things to be as they were, but they can’t be when there are so many secrets Claudia doesn’t know: the lies about food, the secret eating, and now the shame of purging, the mixed shame and relief, the numbness that comes with getting rid of everything inside.
“I just need to go to the bathroom,” Eve says as Claudia frowns. “My stomach’s still a bit upset. I’ll be right back. You call and find out what’s going on.”
She turns to go, rustling in her handbag once she is out of sight, dropping the empty laxative packet into the first empty trash can she passes.
* * *
“Oh my God!” Olivia’s voice comes ringing down the phone. “I can’t believe you’re here! When did you get in?”
“About an hour ago,” Claudia says. “We can’t find your mom. Can you text her and tell her we’re here? I’m really worried she left already.”
There is a sharp intake of breath. “I’m so sorry. My mom had a last-minute meeting. I thought she was telling your mom you should get a cab.”
“Er, no.” Claudia attempts a laugh. “As far as I know, she just told my mom she’d be picking us up from the airport. What do we do now?”
“Just jump in a cab and come over. You know the address, right? It’s on Park, but they’re renovating the lobby, so come to the side on Sixty-ninth. I’m so excited! I can’t believe you’re here! We’re going to have so much fun, and guess what?”
“What?”
“Remember Jackson? You thought he was cute when he was here a couple of weeks ago? On iChat? He’s coming over later and he can’t wait to meet you! He thought you were adorable!”
“Oh my God! He was so hot!” Claudia squeals as Eve laughs. “And what about Eve? Any other cute boys?”
“Just you wait,” laughs Olivia. “We are going to have a seriously good time. Get here as quickly as you can!” She rings off, leaving Eve and Claudia looking at each other blankly.
“Cabs?” Claudia asks.
Eve looks around, finally grabbing Claudia’s arm and leading her purposefully toward the TAXI sign.
19
Eve
Eve, so outgoing and confident in so many situations, finds herself overawed by the opulence of this world. She has never thought of herself as insecure, has never had the experience of feeling intimidated, but the world from which she comes is small, and familiar, and comfortable.
This—this quiet elegance, uniformed doorman holding doors open for tiny women in fur coats, their faces taut and shiny, their lips large and glossy, the only sign of their advanced age being their stoop and slow, unsteady walk—is as alien to her as another planet.
This mahogany foyer with its glistening crystal chandeliers, vases of heady lilac, crinkly tulips, springy curly willow on every polished tabletop—this is nothing Eve has ever experienced.
The doorman rings Olivia for approval as the girls stand, wide-eyed, before him.
“John!” barks a muffled voice behind them. “John! Get the door!” Another plastic old lady, her sour expression mostly hidden by huge black sunglasses despite the sun having set hours before, bangs on the glass with her clutch as three miniature dachshunds scratch at the door.
The doorman drops the phone, running to the door, taking the woman’s shopping bags and holding the door as she sails past without a thank-you.
“Take the dogs upstairs,” she barks, holding out the leash as she unbuttons her coat.
Claudia bends down and holds a hand out for the dogs to sniff. “Aw. They’re so cute!” she coos, looking up at the woman. “How old are they?”
The woman says nothing, just continues unbuttoning her coat as Claudia catches Eve’s eye. Did she not hear?
“Um? I asked how old your dogs are?” Claudia tries again as the woman stops, looks directly at Claudia, appraisingly, almost opens her mouth as if she is about to say something, then pulls the leash saying, “Come!” before disappearing slowly round the corner.
“Did that just happen?” Claudia, beet red, turns to Eve. “Did I say something wrong?”
The doorman makes a face, then leans over, dropping his voice to a whisper. “She’s one of the meanest people in the building. Don’t take it personally. She’s horrible to everyone. I’m sorry. Let me get back to phoning Miss Forsyth now.”
Seconds later, they are being shown to the elevator, the doorman drawing two packets of M&M’s out of his pocket and pressing them into their hands with a wink as the elevator doors slide silently closed.
Claudia looks at Eve, her mouth dropping open. “Is this for real?”
“No.” Eve shakes her head firmly. “It’s not. We were joking about it being like Gossip Girl, but it is! Except it’s kind of awful. I have no idea how we got here, but I’m pretty sure I want to get out. Claudia? Did you not realize that Olivia must be shockingly rich?”
Claudia looks puzzled before explaining that you couldn’t tell anything about anyone at camp. They all wore uniforms, no jewelry was allowed, and they spent their time going out in canoes and putting on plays.
“But surely you could tell?” Eve asked.
“Eve, we were so young. And it wasn’t a rich-kid camp, that was the whole thing. There are other camps that are like country clubs, but you’ve seen the pictures. This was as basic as it gets. We didn’t even have electricity!”
“I guess I just didn’t expect you to be this surprised.”
“I guess I didn’t expect her to be so rich.”
“Maybe the apartment’s normal?” Eve says doubtfully. “Maybe all the money went into the lobby.”
“Right.” Claudia nods sarcastically as Eve shoves her, just as the elevator whispers to a halt, the doors sliding open, not into a corridor or hallway, but directly into a private foyer.
“Very normal,” Eve whispers, taking in the faded Persian rug over rich parquet floors; books and orchids anchoring a round walnut table in the center of the room; brass picture lights illuminating vast abstracts, including, recognizably, some of the greats.
Determining to take it in stride, Eve nonetheless can’t help but move closer to a beautiful study of a group of women. Stepping closer, she is not surprised to see Picasso’s signature in the far right corner, her respectful appreciation broken suddenly by a shout of excitement as a whir of white comes barreling into the foyer.
“Clauds!” Olivia, blond hair flying, wrapped in white cashmere, flings her arms around Claudia, both of them spinning round and jumping up and down.
Other girls follow, two of them doing the same thing; the others, Eve included, standing back awkwardly as the four girls squeal excitedly, stopping only to talk at the same time, everyone stopping and laughing, Olivia finally blinking and wiping a tear from her eye.
“You made me cry!” she laughs. “I’m so happy, I’m crying! Girls?” She turns to the two girls standing apart. “This is Clauds! I can’t believe we’re all together again! Oh my God! I’m so rude! Eve! You’re even prettier in real life! And you’re so skinny! I’m so jealous!” And with no awkwardness whatsoever, Olivia gives Eve a big hug, setting all her anxieties to rest.
By the time the introductions have been made all round, Eve thinks she’s going to be absolutely fine.
* * *
“Where is your mom?” Eve pauses in the doorway of the den as the others squeeze past her, collapsing back on the huge sectional, The Notebook playing on the giant flat-screen TV above the fireplace, bowls of popcorn and candy wrappers littering the antique Indian coffee table. “We should go say hi to her, shouldn’t we?”
“We might see her later,” Olivia says. “I think she’s out. She had some meeting earlier, but I don’t know if she got home yet. Don’t worry about it. She’s cool.”
“Eve, right?” A tall blond girl appears in the doorway, Grace, the girl from iChat the other night. She is even more gorgeous in the flesh—freckles dusted over her nose in a perfect sprinkle, the perfect touch of sexy huskiness to her voice, bronzed athletic legs that go on forever, but there is an openness and friendliness to her that is instantly appealing. “I’m so happy you came!” She throws her arms around Eve in a hug.
Eve blushes and grins, knowing she and Grace will be friends.
“I am so happy you made it,” Grace says again, stepping back.
“As long as my dad doesn’t find out, we’re good. My mom’s cool with pretty much everything.”
Grace groans. “Mine is the opposite. She had to phone Olivia’s mom last week and set out her expectations. I was so embarrassed.”
Olivia barks with laughter. “My mom was convincing, right? Did she do her Betty Crocker impersonation on the phone?” She sighs as Grace nods. “The one thing my mom’s really good at is pretending. For years, I thought she was actually interested in us, but no! She was just pretending!” The others laugh, but Eve sees a glimmer of pain in Olivia’s eyes, and keeps quiet.
* * *
Hours later, the girls are drinking, getting stoned, texting, with a stream of horror movies playing on the giant TV screen. Grace and Eve are the only two who have quietly abstained, at one point taking themselves into the kitchen to make brownies for the other girls, just to get away from the smoke-filled room.
When they come back, bringing a tray of fresh brownies, the rest of the girls jump up with a loud cheer and fling their arms around them, digging their fingers into the still hot cake.
“How do you guys even know how to do this?” Olivia giggles. “I will love you forever for this. I can’t believe we even had brownie mix here. My mom’s on a constant diet—we’re never allowed any of that shit here.”
“You didn’t,” Eve laughs. “I made it from scratch.”
“Oh. My. God!” The girls all shriek. “How?”
Eve and Grace look at each other with a disdainful shake of their heads. “New York City girls,” they say. “They’re all the same,” and then they laugh.
“So what have we missed?” Grace sits on the sofa, relieved that
the smoke has cleared somewhat.
“We were just discussing Allegra’s blow job technique.” One of the other girls smiles. “We were going to get a lesson from her.”
“No way!” shrieks Allegra, mock-embarrassed.
“Oh, come on!” says Olivia. “You can’t give six in a night, win the title, and not pass on your techniques. That’s just not fair.”
“You gave six blow jobs?” Grace is the only one able to verbalize her shock. “To different guys? In one night?”
“It was a dare,” Allegra smirks. “I had to. Come on. I blew it out of the water.”
* * *
Eve had heard of other girls doing this, but up until now had thought it was one of those apocryphal myths.
“O-kay.” Grace covers up a fleeting look of disgust with a shake of her head. “I guess I just don’t get it.” She turns to Claudia and Eve with a shrug. “I’ve been with my boyfriend for almost two years. I just don’t get why anyone would give multiple blow jobs. I’m not saying it’s bad,” she says quickly, “it’s just, what’s in it for you? I mean, yes, I get that you’re getting a power kick, but you’re not getting pleasure out of it, right? And aren’t you worried about getting a reputation?”
Allegra flicks her long black hair over to the other shoulder with an insouciant shrug. “It’s just a blow job. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like we’re doing anything intimate.”
“It’s. Oral. Sex.” Grace persists, speaking slowly. “It is intimate. It should mean something.”
“Grace, it is different for you,” Olivia quickly intervenes, “because you’re in a long-term relationship. The rest of us are just having fun, and this was a dare. She’s not a slut or anything.”
“Right,” says one of the others. “The boys were judging who gave the best blow job. It wasn’t just Allegra.”
“Did you do it?” Claudia turns to her as she looks embarrassed and shakes her head.