“It’s not the basement.” Marcus pointed to the sliding door that led to an outside patio. “You can walk out to the back.”
“It’s so cold down here.” Lisa began to put her things away. She hadn’t even wanted to come. She hated the cold, and she didn’t like to ski.
The past two years, her family and Aimee’s family had enjoyed a lovely little routine during their winter break. After Aimee returned from a holiday visit to her family’s house outside Baltimore, the two families would spend the days leading up to New Year’s ice-skating in Georgetown and seeing the lights at the National Zoo.
But not this year.
This year Gwen announced they could all join her and Anton and the boys up in Vermont. They could ring in the New Year on the slopes. Aimee had jumped at the chance. What was Lisa supposed to do? Let Aimee go up there without her? Vacations, weekend trips, these were when people bonded. And she could only guess what kind of poison Gwen might pour into Aimee’s ears if she wasn’t around. Imagining the shared jokes, the inside lingo, the memories they would later laugh over sent her heart racing.
“Try to be positive,” Marcus said amiably. “This will be fun. You can learn to ski.”
“Excuse me for noticing that we’re being treated as second-class.”
“Don’t be like that. It’s really nice of them to invite us.” He headed into the bathroom and started putting away his toiletries.
“Whatever,” Lisa hissed. Marcus didn’t see what she saw. And the more she sensed things, the less sensitive he became, as if there were some algebraic equation in their marriage that always had to equal zero.
That evening was painful for Lisa. She should have anticipated that she would be on Gwen’s turf, and that her hostess would lord it over everyone. She tried to connect to Aimee, but Aimee was clearly overwhelmed with tending to the needs of her three kids. Not for the first time did Lisa wonder if Aimee hadn’t made amistake having the twins. During dinner, she plastered a smile on her face while returning to a favorite fantasy—that Aimee had stopped having kids at Noa. That the two of them had bonded over being parents of onlys, and that when Gwen moved in with her boisterous twins, their joint rejection of her became one more tie that bound them together. In this fantasy, Marcus and Scott often watched the two kids while she and Aimee traveled together having adventures.
She crashed back to reality when she heard her name.
“Earth to Lisa!” Scott said. “Hello?”
“What is it?” She looked around the table. The dishes had been cleared.
“Where did you go?” Gwen asked. “We were talking to you, and you were lost in la-la land.”
Lisa’s stomach clenched. She was always embarrassed to be caught out during a daydream. Teachers would humiliate her in class for not paying attention. Her mother used to berate her for being aspace cadet. But in a family of five kids, delving deep in her own imagination was often the only chance she had at privacy. If she had to share her toys, her clothes, even a bedroom—at least she could keep her imagination locked away. No one could access her thoughts.
“Oh, she’s probably just tired. It is a long drive,” Aimee said and smiled at her. Lisa felt her friend’s warm affection bathe her. That kindness was what drew her to Aimee in the first place. Aimee might be the only person she had ever met who made her feel that she was good enough. Her whole body relaxed when she was around Aimee—her pulse steadied, her breathing regulated. How nice this trip would be if it were just the two of them.
Gwen held up a deck of cards. “Pitch?”
Lisa winced. She hated cards, especially this game that Gwen had taught them all with its complicated rules about jacks and trumps. Aimee had never been a card player before, and neitherhad Marcus, but now they all acted like they couldn’t think of a better way to spend their time together.
“Oh, yes!” Aimee said, heading to the living room. “This time you guys are going down!” The other adults took their beverages and gathered around the coffee table in front of the fire while the children headed down to the basement. Lisa hesitated in the kitchen. No one asked her what she thought, what she wanted. She wasn’t sure what an ideal end to the evening might be, but it wasn’t this. “I have a headache. I think I’ll go to bed early.”
“Ohh.” Aimee made a frowny face. “Do you need some Advil?”
“I have some, thanks.” She turned and walked downstairs. She knew it was abrupt, that she sounded curt, that another woman would have kissed her husband goodnight. But she wanted them to know she was displeased. She wanted her disapproval to hang over the evening like the smell of burnt food. Maybe Aimee might even come down and probe her for what was really the matter. Or at least Marcus.
But no one did.
She peeked in on the children, who were involved in a game called Assassin and completely ignored her pleasant inquiries. Even Kai was having fun. Feeling useless and unloved, she got into bed, where she seethed. Occasional peals of laughter wafted downstairs. They were having a good time without her, even her own husband. Traitor.
She hadn’t felt so alone in years. She thought of Ruth, her college roommate. Ruth had been a shy slip of a girl, afraid to go to the dining hall alone the first day. Lisa had accompanied her, watching how her roommate trembled slightly when confronted with the chaos of the cafeteria. Their friendship bloomed almost overnight and soon Ruth had become herfavorite person. Everything about Ruth seemed wonderful to Lisa, from the way she held her hand over her mouth when she laughed because the gap between her front teeth embarrassed her, to how she drenched herself in drugstore body spray that smelled like honeysuckle.
They stuck together that first month, meeting up for all their meals, touching base between classes to tell each other funny little anecdotes, whispering their dreams and hopes to each other as they lay in their dorm beds at night. Lisa had been euphoric. Finally, she had a friend all to herself. It had been a little difficult to keep the other girls on the dorm floor away, but she was able to with a nasty comment or a rude look. People avoided them that first month. They developed a routine on Friday nights. While their floormates would pile on makeup and down shots of cheap liquor before going out, she and Ruth would tuck themselves into a little cocoon on one of the single beds and eat ice cream and watch TV on the tiny television that Ruth had brought from home.
But all that changed in the second month. Ruth started to pull away, to venture out further into the school. She began to make other friends, first a girl from her Spanish class, then a few members of the Film Club. Sometimes Lisa couldn’t find her at lunchtime, and when she did, she’d be sitting with those new friends, halfway through her salad.
The rejection had been unbearable.
In the dark, Lisa flinched at the memory of what she had done in response.
She had been hurting, and like a wounded animal she had lashed out. It wasn’t her fault.
A line from a book that she had read came to her: “Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart.”