The corner of Talisha’s mouth quirked.
“I like Sonnet!” Hal protested. “And Barnabas isn’t the worst name I’ve ever heard. Anyway, I don’t think it’s terrible to let her think she’s helping. It makes Mom happy to feel like she’s participating in the whole thing.”
“‘The whole thing,’ meaning the fetus insidemybody,” Talisha said wryly.
As important as Sadie was to Anne, she could readily admit that Sadie wasn’t exactly an ideal mother-in-law. “I’ll get her to back off.”
Talisha sighed. “Good luck. Anyway, she’s stopped bringing it up in the last couple weeks. I guess she’s had other things on her mind lately. You know, that job.”
A few days earlier, Sadie had reacted so strangely when Anne mentioned UCLA. Maybe Talisha and Hal knew more. “What about Sadie’s job?”
“The one she might take at Barnard College,” Hal said. “In New York?”
Every molecule of Anne’s skin seemed to tighten instantly. Her vision tunneled rapidly, blackening at the edges until all she could see was the oval of Hal’s unperturbed face.
“New York,” she repeated. The syllables felt thick and clumsy in her mouth. Oh God, hadn’t Sadie said something vague a few days ago about an upcoming trip to Manhattan? For the few seconds Anne had thought about it, she’d assumed Sadie was visiting her brother. “Barnard? Barnard. In—New York City?”
“Oh shit.” Hal glanced at Talisha. “Mom hasn’t told you yet? Shit. I’m sorry.”
“We don’t really know how it all works,” Talisha added, looking a little embarrassed, “but Sadie told us yesterday thatthey reached out—something about a failed search—and asked her to apply. Invited her for apro formacampus interview. Apparently they want…”
Anne couldn’t look at Talisha, couldn’t move. Talisha’s voice began to jumble in Anne’s ears, words tumbling over themselves until they detached from meaning and became pure noise. New York. Sadie had applied to a job in New York. Sadie was going to interview in New York. Sadie might move to New York.
Sadie might leave her.
“Is she planning to accept?” Anne’s voice cracked on the only question that mattered. “Does she want to take the job?”
Talisha set her fork down on her plate. “I don’t think she knows what she wants to do yet. The campus visit isn’t for a couple of weeks anyway.”
That sent a few more pumps of oxygen back into Anne’s lungs. But it wasn’t a reprieve, just a possible stay of execution. “What about—”Me. What about me?“You two? The baby? She wouldn’t leave California right before the birth of her first grandchild?”
“Apparently, it’s a really big deal,” Hal said quietly. “An endowed position at a prestigious liberal arts college, which means a lot more money and a lot more time to write than she has now. I really don’t—Anne, you should talk to her yourself. I just assumed she’d folded you in on this. I mean, you’re Mom’s best friend. This impacts you, too, obviously.”
Obviously.
The strangest thing was beginning to happen. Anne, motionless in her chair, could feel the room slipping away, as if the furniture beneath and around her had become runny paint.
Sadie sat across the table from Anne, at the far end, but Anne couldn’t look in her direction.
“I’ll talk to her,” she managed.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur. Someone else spoke through Anne’s mouth, someone who wasn’t Anne. Through her haze of shock, Anne could feel a small pinch of gratitude for this calm voice that took over.
Plates were cleared—by whom, Anne didn’t see. The lights were dimmed—by whom, Anne didn’t know. And when a cake with blazing candles was set down in front of her and the room filled with singing, Anne forced her mouth to lift in a counterfeit smile.
On her shoulders, she felt the hands of the person who’d set down the cake in front of her. Sadie’s hands. Warm, strong. They were ink-stained, Anne knew. Sadie had tried as hard as she could to scrub them before the party, but the marks wouldn’t come off. They never came off.
When the singing stopped, Anne let her lungs fill with air, then extinguished the candles. Soft clapping rose around her. For a dazed moment, Anne wondered why anyone would ever want to applaud when the light had just gone out.
Sadie squeezed her shoulders.I’m here, that squeeze said.
When she was a girl, maybe eight or nine and in unrequited love with the future, Anne, always hovering during her mother’s nightly cold cream ritual, had received permission to look through the jewelry case on the dressing table. “One piece, five minutes, then put it back,” Mother had said, not looking, and Anne had traced the edges of her favorite brooch, a cluster of Tahitian pearls nearly the size of her small palm. Tried to memorize the feeling of it in her hand, its contours, the quiet pleasure of guarding something this precious. Tried not to think:Just three more minutes left before I have to give this back. Two more minutes. One.
Chapter 4
Anne had to talk to Sadie. No doubt about it. Sit her down on Anne’s cream-colored overstuffed couch and say, in a very normal tone of voice,This job in New York. Why didn’t you tell me? Are you going to take it?Are you going to leave?Ask her questions like there weren’t potential answers shaped like scalpels.
Anne just had to talk to Sadie.