To my surprise it’s not Stausey. She has been quieter in the last few minutes than she had been the entire night. “Tuesday,” Todd says. “Stausey is staying here while I go to DC for a conference. I’ll swing back by and get her Tuesday and we will take a late flight back to Washington. We have a benefit that next evening; it’s going to be a busy-ass week.” He smiles, looking a little worried, and it makes me like him more. The idea that “swinging” back by to get his wife from another city is as casual as taking the subway makes me laugh to myself.
Nora looks over at me, but I pinch my lips closed.
“Do you have time to do some baby shopping with me, Soph?” Stausey asks.
It’s weird hearing them call her Sophia, let alone a pet name. What would happen if I called her that? And what is with everyone having double names around here? Nora-Sophia and Todd-Ameen. Should I ask them all to start calling me Matthew? That’s my middle name, and I could easily start asking my close friends to call me only that. I wonder if it would confuse Nora the way her name switch confused me?
Nora nods at her sister and looks genuinely interested in baby shopping. Whatever type of relationship Nora has with her sister, it clearly doesn’t affect Nora’s admiration for the coming baby.
Chapter Twenty-five
ANOTHER HALF HOUR OF SMALL talk passes and the table is cleared. The sisters have disappeared into the kitchen, and I’m sitting on the couch with Todd and an army of decorative pillows. One has small foxes on it, spread out like polka dots. The rest are solid colors. Why are there so many? Does anyone actually use them? I push my elbow into the fox pillow to test how soft it is. My elbow sinks into it, so maybe they are comfortable . . .
“Having fun?” Todd’s Disney-prince smile makes me slightly jealous of this guy. I mean, he has known Nora since she was a girl, and he’s a surgeon and a husband who has a spare apartment in New York City just in case they decide to visit. I share a tiny apartment with my friend and just started to understand how to separate my laundry. Nora is used to being around these kinds of people. People who have their shit together and are old enough to have mortgages and airline miles.
I situate my body and put the fox pillow on my lap and nod.
“She loves her pillows.” Todd points to the one sitting on my lap.
“I think it’s a woman thing. My mom is the same way.” My mom? Really? I’m sitting in an apartment overlooking downtown Manhattan and talking about my mom.
This whole night is totally out of my league. I think about my family’s old house and the way the carpet never looked clean. My mom would rent one of those Rug Doctors from Odd Lots and spend two hours cleaning the carpets, but the years of stains just wouldn’t relent.
How would it be having Nora in my hometown? Would she shine too brightly for the cloudy Midwestern town? I look around the spacious living room and count the number of chandeliers suspended from the high ceiling. Three are in my peripheral vision alone. I look at the decorations lined perfectly on the mantel above the electronic fireplace. A little metal statue, a piece of wood cut into a triangle . . .
“They will probably be in there awhile.” Nora’s brother-in-law rubs his hand over his neck. “I’m just glad they’re talking again.” He sighs and grabs a bottle of liquor from a cart next to the couch. It’s full of different types of alcohol and different mixers. There’s a lime, a lemon, and even little straws. I guess that’s what it’s like to be an adult, you get to have a minibar in your house and your wife gets to buy all the weird pillows she wants.
Should I ask him why they weren’t talking? Or would that look like she doesn’t tell me anything—oh, wait, she doesn’t.
I choose to play it cool. “Yeah, me, too.”
Todd pours himself a drink. He calls it a gimlet; I don’t really understand the language of wealthy people, but I nod along while he tells me the elaborate origin of the gin used in his drink. He offers me one, but I decline.
“Stausey really does love her. I know she can go about it the wrong way and come off a little too strong.” He takes a bigger swig. “But she’s just worried about her little sister. She barely sleeps anymore, and not just because the baby is the size of a fucking watermelon.”
Todd smiles and I find this comparison funny. His wife does look like she’s smuggling a watermelon under her dress.
I continue to bullshit my way through the conversation. The only other option is to tell Todd that I don’t have any freaking idea what’s going on between the sisters.
“I’m sure Nora appreciates her worry. She’s just not that great at taking sympathy from people. You know how she is,” I say, even though I clearly have no clue how she is.
“Yeah, you’re right.” He rests his back against the couch. He looks around the living room like he’s searching for something. I look around, too, staring at a huge print of one of his and Stausey’s wedding photos. Nora is there, in a beautiful pink gown, her hair curled and lying across her shoulders. The guy next to her looks somewhat familiar, and so does the guy next to him. My discomfort is clearly making me imagine things.
“Look, I know we just met and I’m completely overstepping here, but we are all hoping you being around will be good for Nora. You know, she hasn’t brought anyone around us since the