It was the same now. She hadn't become a good person. She still didn't feel pleasure at the thought of helping her friend achieve her deepest desire. In truth she still felt the same overwhelming aversion as when they'd first asked her to donate her eggs, but the difference was that now she relished her aversion. She wanted the doctors to cut her open. She wanted them to remove a piece of herself and hand it over to Erika. Here you go. Let's balance the scales.
She turned out her lamp and rolled over to the middle of the bed and tried to think about anything, anything at all, other than that day. That so-called 'ordinary day'.
chapter twenty-two
The day of the barbeque
Erika watched Clementine try to rescue the Moet that was foaming and frothing from the bottle, while Vid stood in the middle of his gigantic kitchen, the champagne held aloft in both hands, grinning idiotically like a Formula One winner posing for a photo.
Clementine laughed as if it were all a great hoot, as if it didn't matter that expensive champagne was being wasted. She shouldn't have spent that much. It wasn't necessary to turn up to a backyard barbeque with French champagne. She and Sam always lived beyond their means. The mortgage on their damp little trendy place! Erika and Oliver couldn't believe it when they heard how much they'd borrowed, and then they'd taken the little girls off for a holiday in Italy last year! Fiscal madness. They'd put the trip on their credit card even though the children would have been just as happy with a one-hour drive to the Central Coast, but only Tuscany would do for Sam and Clementine.
That's why Clementine really needed to get the full-time orchestra job. She always got herself worked up over auditions, suddenly doubting herself. Erika couldn't imagine having a job where you doubted your ability to perform it. In Erika's world you were either qualified for a job or you weren't.
Perhaps Erika had misinterpreted the expression on Clementine's face. It wasn't that she didn't want to help them by donating her eggs; it was just that she had so much on her mind at the moment. They should have waited until after the audition to ask her. But that was months away. If she got it, she'd be starting a new job. If she didn't get it, she'd be devastated. It was now or never.
Maybe it was never.
Was that tablet she'd taken affecting her balance? No, of course it wasn't. She was fine.
'Here you go!' Clementine handed Erika a glass, not quite meeting her eyes.
'I'll have one of those too,' said Oliver. His disappointment with the way their 'meeting' had turned out tugged at the corners of his mouth, so he looked like a sad clown. He'd been so hopeful about today. 'Do you think she'll say yes?' he'd said suddenly last night as they watched TV, and Erika could hardly bear the yearning in his voice, and her fear made her snap, 'How would I know?'
'Yeah, I'll have a drink too,' said Sam. It was like everyone was dying of thirst. Erika had served sparkling mineral water at her place, with lemon. She took a big mouthful of champagne. She wasn't that fond of it. Did everyone just pretend to like champagne?
'Well, I know it's not very classy of me, but I'm
having a beer.' Tiffany went to the giant stainless-steel refrigerator and stood with her hip jutted at an angle. She wore denim jeans faded to almost white with rips at the knees (they were plausible rips; Erika could almost forgive her for them) and a plain white T-shirt, and her long blonde hair had that just-off-the-beach look that movie stars favoured. Just looking at Tiffany made Erika think about sex, so God knew what she was doing to the men, although when she looked at her own husband she saw that Oliver was looking out the window, staring at nothing, dreaming of babies. The perfect husband. Just in need of a perfect wife.
'Actually, I'll have a beer,' Sam put down his champagne glass on the island bench, 'if one is going.'
'I've got some struklji in the oven, just five more minutes,' said Vid. He opened the oven and peered in. 'It's a savoury cheese strudel, very good, Slovenian, an old family recipe, no, not really, I got it from the internet!' He roared with laughter. 'My auntie used to make it, and I asked my mother for the recipe, and she said, "How would I know!" My mother, she's no cook. Me, I'm a great cook.'
'He is a great cook. Very humble too.' Tiffany tipped back her head and took a long swig of her beer, her back arched, her chest thrust out, like a girl on a sexist football commercial. Erika couldn't look away. Did she do it on purpose? It was extraordinary. Erika caught Clementine's eye, and Clementine raised one eyebrow back at her, and Erika tried not to laugh, and everything Erika cherished about their friendship was encapsulated in that secret, just-for-her raised eyebrow.
'I'd love a husband who cooked,' said Clementine to Tiffany. 'Where did you pick him up?'
'That would be telling,' said Tiffany sparkily.
See, this was the sort of conversation Erika didn't get. Wasn't that kind of inappropriate? Flirtatious? And Clementine and Tiffany were being so familiar with each other, as if Erika were the outsider and Clementine and Tiffany were the old friends.
'Hey, I cook!' Sam flicked Clementine's shoulder.
'Ow,' said Clementine. She said to Tiffany and Vid, 'The truth is, we share the cooking but neither of us is very good at it.'
'What?' said Sam with mock outrage. 'What about my signature dish?'
'Your shepherd's pie. It's amazing. Exquisite. You follow the instructions on that packet mix to the letter.' Clementine put her arm around his waist.
And also this. She didn't get this. How could they be teasing each other so fondly after all the tension at Erika's place? Tension caused by Erika, but really, Clementine and Sam should have been on the same page about something as significant as whether or not they were going to have a third child. It should have been clarified, discussed. Clementine should not have been going around telling people she'd rather poke her eyes out so that people thought they could rely on that information, thank you very much.
Was all this lovable banter for the benefit of Vid and Tiffany? She and Oliver didn't do married couple banter. Oliver spoke fondly but politely to Erika in public, as if she were a beloved aunt, perhaps, not his wife. People probably thought they had a terrible marriage.
'Let me top you up there,' said Tiffany to Erika, holding up the champagne bottle.
'Oh, gosh, that went down fast.' Erika looked at her empty glass, mystified.
'I wonder if I should go and check on the kids,' said Sam. He looked up at the ceiling. 'It sounds suspiciously quiet up there.'