The Smart One

Chapter 19





Claire had broken even. Which was a miracle of sorts, really. She had barely any money in the bank, but her credit cards were paid off. And she felt rich. Now, when she signed on to her bank accounts, she felt like she could breathe, like her chest was open again. It hadn’t even taken as long as she’d thought it would. Apparently having someone else give you a place to live and pay your bills was a great way to get rid of credit card debt. Moving home had been the right thing to do.

It was good to remind herself of that, to remember that living at home had saved her. Because at the moment, the house was so crowded it felt like hell.

How had they all lived there at the same time? Sure, there wasn’t a pregnant Cleo living with them when they were growing up, but still. Claire didn’t remember it being like this. It seemed like every time she went down the stairs, she ran into someone. She’d go to the kitchen to get a glass of water and find that there were no clean glasses. Bowls of cereal were left out, balled-up napkins were all over the counter, and there were always crumbs—on the floor, on the counter, in the sink. Everywhere. It made Lainie’s house seem tidy and calm.

The bathrooms were a whole other story. The Coffey house was old, and some of the plumbing issues had never quite been resolved. If the dishwasher or washing machine was running while someone took a shower, there were bound to be shocks of cold water that spurted out. And if someone flushed a toilet while someone else was in the shower, the water turned scalding for about five to seven seconds. They’d all lived with this before, coming out of the bathroom looking to accuse whoever was rude enough to flush the toilet while they were in there, but they hadn’t had to deal with it in a while, and now it just seemed absurd and impossible.

“I’m sorry,” Claire heard Weezy saying to Will one morning, “but there is too much laundry to do, and if I wait until everyone is showered, it will never get done. Maybe if the people in this house learned how to use a washing machine instead of throwing their laundry down the chute for me to handle, we wouldn’t have this problem.” Will grumbled something and walked away.

Trying to explain the water rules to Cleo proved harder than they thought. Over dinner one night—after Cleo had started the dishwasher while Weezy was in the shower and was faced with a screaming Weezy running down the stairs a few minutes later—Max tried to explain the situation.

“So if I flush the toilet, it will make the shower cold?” Cleo asked.

“No, it makes a spray of hot water come out,” Max said. “So you can do it, but you have to warn the person.”

“So what you’re saying is that you want me to knock on the bathroom door and tell whoever is in the shower that I have to use the bathroom somewhere else in the house?”

“Exactly,” Max said. He sat back and looked pleased.

“Maybe I just won’t use anything if anyone’s in the shower. Does that work?”

“You could do that too,” Claire said. She smiled at her and reached across the table to pat Cleo on the arm. She couldn’t believe that her brother was asking his girlfriend to interrupt showers at his family’s house. How stupid could boys be?

AT THE END OF MARCH, Amanda decided not to come back to Proof Perfect. Claire wasn’t surprised one bit. As soon as Amanda had taken the extra three months, Claire could have guessed that she’d never be back. Who could blame her? The thought of returning from maternity leave to face crazy Leslie and all of the strange people here was pretty horrible. Leslie called Claire into her office to tell her the situation.

“What’s unfortunate is that we’ve paid for her health care for the past three months. We believed her when she said she was coming back,” Leslie said.

“I’m sure a lot of people change their minds once they’re home with the baby,” Claire said. But Leslie shook her head.

“The good news is that we’ve discussed it and we’ve decided to offer you the job full time.”

“Oh, Leslie, that’s so nice, but I can’t take it.”

Leslie wrinkled her eyebrows and tilted her head, like she couldn’t possibly understand what Claire was saying.

“It’s just … I don’t plan to stay here long term.”

“Well, we all know that the best-laid plans always blow up in your face.”

Was that a saying? Claire really didn’t think so.

“I think I’m pretty set on moving back to New York,” Claire said. “But thank you for the offer and for the opportunity.”

“Why don’t you sit with it for a while? We’re not in any rush to find someone new. You can keep the job as a temporary situation and think about it for a month or two.”

Claire agreed, but her heart was pounding when she left her office. She felt like there was a chance she’d just end up trapped there. She tried to talk herself down, tell herself that it was a ridiculous thing to think. But she still felt a slight panic and she knew that sooner rather than later, she’d have to get out of there. June, she decided, was her limit.

LAINIE AND CLEO HAD TAKEN TO going for long walks together after dinner. “You should come,” Lainie said, but Claire declined. She watched from her window as the two pregnant ladies walked down the sidewalk, their heads turned toward each other, Cleo laughing at something that Lainie said, while she gestured and shook her head. Lainie had invited Cleo over for lunch one day, and ever since then the two of them had been spending a lot of time together.

“She just needs someone to talk to,” Lainie said. “She’s scared out of her mind, and there’s no one she can really ask about this stuff.”

“That’s nice of you,” Claire said. She didn’t really mean it.

The first time Cleo and Lainie had met, a couple of years ago now, they seemed to like each other immediately. They’d smiled at each other right away, and spent the night talking, bonding over (Claire could only assume) both being really, really pretty. And now, here they were, waddling off into the sunset together, talking about pregnancy and hormones and placentas. It reminded Claire of seeing Lainie talk to Margie Schuller in the bathroom that day, knowing that she was on the other side of something and that there was nothing she could do to join them. It felt a little lonely.

Her friend Katherine was calling her more often, asking her when she was coming back to New York. “I don’t think you should stay there any longer,” she said. “You really need to come back.”

When Claire thought about going back to New York, she felt calm. Was it wrong that part of it was because she knew that there were so many other women there her age who had jobs and were unattached and weren’t even close to having babies? Was it such a bad thing to want to be surrounded by your own kind? People had been doing it for years, really. Look at the ethnic neighborhoods that popped up all over. There were Little Italys and Chinatowns in every city. And weren’t there even midget colonies somewhere? She’d heard that once and it made so much sense to her, to want to be somewhere where everyone and everything was your size, where things were within your reach and you weren’t struggling all the time to fit in a world that wasn’t built for you.

That was all she wanted. To be back somewhere where no one looked at her strangely, where she fit in. And she knew that place was New York. Sometimes the thought of going back there overwhelmed her—she’d have to find a job, look for an apartment, and be shocked and disgusted at how much she was going to pay for a tiny place. But she could figure it out. She knew where she was supposed to be.

ON THE DAY THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE her wedding day, no one said anything to her. She wouldn’t have forgotten anyway, but all of the places that she and Doug had registered sent her congratulatory e-mails. She had never bothered to take the registries down, or take her e-mail address off the list.

She wondered if Doug had gotten the same e-mails. It was so strange to think that Doug knew nothing about what was happening in her life, and she knew nothing about his. She’d e-mailed him when she left New York, because it had seemed like the right thing to do, to let your former fiancé know that you were going to be living in a different city. He’d written back and wished her luck, but they hadn’t been in contact since.

She wondered what he’d think if he knew that she was living at home still, what he’d say about Max and Cleo having a baby, and about Martha’s trying to get her to go to therapy. She couldn’t imagine what he’d say if he knew that she was acting like a whole different person, smoking cigarettes pretty often, hanging out with Fran, sometimes smoking pot on weeknights just for fun. She would bet he wouldn’t believe it.

When they’d split up their stuff in the apartment, they had both wanted the expensive ceramic Dutch oven that they’d gotten as an engagement gift. It was bright orange and cheerful, and Claire loved it. When they registered, Doug had wanted a blue one, but she fought for the orange. She pointed out that he would eventually be with someone else, and that girl wasn’t going to want something that his ex-fiancée had chosen. He’d looked hurt when she said it, but nodded and let her have it. And she wondered now if he was with someone else, if he also was acting totally different than he had with her. Maybe he was engaged again. He could be married already with a baby on the way. (Okay, sure, it wasn’t likely, but Max and Cleo were proof that things sometimes happened much faster than intended.) She thought about e-mailing him, just to see. But in the end she left it alone. He wasn’t hers to know anymore.

AT THE END OF MAY, they’d all trekked out to a yoga retreat in Ohio for Cathy and Ruth’s wedding. The place was called Bear Den Cottages and they spent the weekend sleeping in cabins, doing Downward Facing Dog, and drinking green tea. She’d told Fran that it was family only, which wasn’t true, but she didn’t want to invite him and anyway, she didn’t think he’d even want to go.

Claire had been dreading this weekend, but surprisingly it wasn’t awful. Even pregnant Cleo seemed to enjoy her sun salutations. And while they all agreed that a lot of it was “hippie nonsense,” as Maureen whispered to them, it was all in all a pretty pleasant trip. And when Claire stood up front with Martha and Cathy, wearing her Driftwood bridesmaid dress that Martha had freaked out over, all she thought was that Cathy and Ruth seemed really happy. And when she realized that this made her feel happy, she was relieved, because she figured that meant she wasn’t a horrible, jealous person after all. And that made her even happier.

HER THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY WAS AT THE BEGINNING of June, and she really meant it when she said she wanted to ignore it. But that wasn’t an option. Lainie insisted on throwing her a party. “We’ll have a barbecue,” she said. “It will be fun.”

“I really don’t feel like having a party,” Claire said.

“Don’t tell me you’re freaking out about turning thirty. Come on. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Fine,” Claire agreed. It seemed easier than trying to fight it. “Fine.”

For three days out of the year, Claire and Martha were the same age. When she was younger, Claire loved this. She used to torture Martha with it, telling her that she was just as old as she was. Now it didn’t seem that fun.

Martha was concerned that turning thirty would send Claire into a tailspin, and she talked to her often about it. “It seems worse than it is,” she said. “The idea of thirty can be scary but once it happens, you’re totally fine.”

“I’m fine,” Claire repeated over and over again.

Martha thought Claire’s birthday was even more reason to go to therapy with her. Sometimes Claire thought she should just agree to go to shut her up about it.

“You’re probably stressed about things you don’t even know that you’re stressed about. That’s the best part of therapy,” Martha said.

“Martha, I’m going to tell you for the last time. I am not going to therapy with you.” Claire couldn’t help but yell it. That was another reason she had to get out of this house. Each day made her act more and more like a teenager.

“You are being really closed-minded,” Martha said. She yelled a little too.

“Good,” Claire said. She didn’t care if she wasn’t making sense. The two of them left the room and slammed their respective doors. Anytime Weezy looked at them, she just shook her head.

LAINIE TIED BALLOONS TO THE CHAIRS in the backyard and hung an old silver banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Claire hugged her when she arrived. “This is a big birthday,” Lainie told her. “You should enjoy it.”

Lainie’s boys were all dressed alike, in khaki shorts and light blue polo shirts. When she got there, Jack ran right up to her. “Remember when I was five and you babysat me?” he said. She nodded and he smiled. “That was fun.” He had made her a birthday card and helped her blow out her candles. He seemed to have changed his mind about her. Apparently, they were now the best of friends.

Lainie invited a couple of her sisters, Claire’s whole family, a couple of friends from high school, and Fran, of course. When she brought Claire’s cake out, which was a yellow sheet cake with chocolate frosting she’d made from a box, she said, “I just want to wish my best friend a happy thirtieth birthday. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

It was a funny speech, considering Claire had always thought that Lainie would be just fine without her. She was the one that needed Lainie more. But maybe that was how all friendships were—one person was the littlest bit needier than the other one. And maybe sometimes it switched. Not often, but sometimes.

Fran had shown up at the barbecue wearing a collared shirt and no hat. It looked like he’d made an effort to look nice, and seeing him stand there and talk to her family dressed like that hurt Claire’s heart a little for reasons she couldn’t totally identify.

After Claire blew out her candles, Lainie brought out a cupcake with another candle in it and lit it for Martha. “It’s a few days early,” she said, “but we can’t forget the other birthday girl.”

Martha was pleased, Claire could tell. And Weezy was too. Even Claire felt good about it, and she realized that in every relationship, Martha was the needier one. And she knew that would never change.

MARTHA WAS CLOSING ON A CONDO, which took up a lot of the discussion at the dinner table. Cleo always looked happy to talk about it, since it took the attention away from her and the baby, and actually everyone else also seemed relieved to have another topic to discuss.

“It would make sense to rent out the other bedroom, but it would also be great to have it as a guest room. Cathy was saying that she and Ruth would love to come stay for a few days soon, and I’d love that too. I just have to decide what to do.” Martha sighed, like she’d just been faced with deciding whether or not she should euthanize a puppy.

“I’m starting to apply for jobs in New York,” Claire said. It seemed as good a time as any to let everyone know.

“Already?” Weezy asked.

“I’ve been here for almost a year,” Claire said.

“What sorts of things are you looking for?” Will asked. He took a bite of peas.

“I think the same sort of thing I was doing before … nonprofit stuff.”

“But we’ll miss you,” Cleo said. Claire smiled at her. She really did feel bad leaving her and Max, but at least they’d all be happier for the space.

“It might be a good idea to wait,” Weezy said. “Until your money situation is more stable.”

“I’m fine,” Claire said.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to give yourself a cushion is all I’m saying. Just have a good amount socked away. You could stay for a few more months, get yourself in a better position,” Weezy said.

“I don’t think so,” Claire said.

“Well now, don’t dismiss the idea before you even think about it. You don’t want to find yourself right back in the same situation.” Weezy shook her head just a little.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I’m ready to go and I’m fine. You can’t have all your children living with you for the rest of your life, you know.”

“Claire.” Will gave her a look.

“Who will be our babysitter?” Max asked. He tried to laugh.

Weezy sniffed. “I’m just saying you should think about it, that’s all.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Martha said. “When you look at how much I’ve saved, how easy this buying process has been. It’s worked out great.”

“So, we should have all lived at home for all of our twenties? Sounds like a great plan,” Claire said.

“Don’t be nasty,” Weezy said.

“This is ridiculous.” Claire got up from the table. Cleo was looking down at her plate, like she wanted to disappear, like she’d been dropped in the middle of a loony bin and had no way to escape. Which, really, wasn’t too far from the truth.

Claire grabbed her bag and walked outside, although she didn’t really know where she was going. She hated the way she acted here. As soon as she stepped on the sidewalk, she felt guilty. What a brat she was. They’d let her come back and stay with them, and she couldn’t even stand to listen to their suggestions. Why was she like this? The worst part was she couldn’t help it. The anger seemed to come out of her before she even knew what was happening.

She wandered around for a while, pretending that she didn’t know where she was going to go, before she finally called Fran. “Come over,” he said. That’s what he always said. She loved that.

He had a beer waiting for her on the coffee table. He was just in his boxers, even though the basement stayed pretty cool. “Here,” he said, handing her the beer. “You sounded like you could use one.”

Claire tried to tell him about the fight, about why she felt so bad. He listened, but she knew he didn’t really understand. Fran wasn’t one to feel guilty for being mean to his parents. It made sense, really, since they didn’t seem to think about him so much.

“I just can’t stand being there anymore,” Claire said. “I feel like this horrible person, because I’m annoyed at them all the time. And they’re just trying to help, I know that. But it’s so smothering.” Fran made a noise like he agreed with what she was saying, but she knew he didn’t. She put her feet in his lap and they fell silent, watching TV.

They were lying on the couch a few hours later, when she told him. She was wearing just her bra and underwear, and all she could think about was how scratchy the couch material was on her hip. Fran was lying on his back, and she was on her side, her head on his chest. He was holding a chunk of her hair in his hand, twisting it and then letting it unravel on his fingers. She knew he would fall asleep soon if she didn’t say anything.

“I think I’m moving back to New York,” she said.

“You think?” He held his hand still, and she could imagine her gob of hair in his hand, raised above her head, like it was waiting for something.

“I mean, I know,” she said. She lifted her head to look at him. “I’m moving. Soon, I think. I just need to figure it all out.”

Fran didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He dropped her hair and put his hands behind his head. “I’m not surprised,” he finally said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, last week you said you were going to kill someone if you had to live in your house much longer.”

“No, I didn’t,” Claire said.

“Yes, you did,” Fran said. “So, before it comes to murder, it’s probably best if you get out of there.”

“I just think it’s time,” Claire said. “It just feels like everything is going on without me. Like I took a break, but no one else did and now if I stay here I’ll just fall further behind. Does that make sense?”

“Not really,” Fran said.

“Oh.”

“But I mean, I get it. You’re not happy here.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

“There’s not that much room in between, you know.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“It’s probably a good idea.” Fran picked up her hair again and started twirling it.

“I just wanted to tell you. Because I don’t know what we’re doing, exactly, but I’ve liked it. I really have. You were one of the only good things here.”

“That’s nice,” Fran said.

“I mean it.” Claire sat all the way up and moved her hair away from his hands. “I might have been unhappy, that’s true. But I wasn’t unhappy when I was with you.” She got a feeling that she was going to start crying, so she looked at the far wall until it started to go away.

Fran pulled her back down and kissed the top of her head. “Look,” he said. “We had fun, right? It’s okay, I swear. We’re good, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Claire, really. We’re good. Both of us. We needed time to get over those f*ckers, and we did. And you can’t feel bad about that.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re such a liar. I mean it. Stop feeling bad. You feel guilty all the time, about everything. And you shouldn’t.”

Claire didn’t say anything. She was impressed that he had been so observant. It didn’t seem like he noticed. “You should move out too,” she said.

Fran laughed. “You mean to tell me a thirty-year-old living in his parents’ basement isn’t that attractive? Point taken.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Nah, you’re right. It’s time. Soon.”

“I like this basement,” Claire said. She felt even worse now for saying that to him.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I bet you’ll be happy to get back to New York. I have to say, I never really got it. I could never live there.”

“You could visit,” Claire said.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll come see the elephants when they come to town,” Fran said. Claire didn’t even remember telling him that story, but she must have. Had she left Doug out of the story when she told him or not? She couldn’t remember.

“You should,” she said. “It really is something to see.”

“Okay,” Fran said. “Maybe we’ll do that. Maybe I’ll come and we’ll see the elephants.”

They were both lying. They knew he’d never come to visit her in New York, that he would never see the elephants. But just then, she really wished he would, so he could see how weird, how unreal, the whole thing looked; how magical it was to watch these huge animals marching down the streets of Manhattan. Just thinking about it now made her homesick and a little sad. The way it felt like a dream, how even after you saw it with your own eyes, you never really believed it had happened.