She cleared her throat. “Wow. I knew something was up, but a divorce? You? Josh? Have you been brainwashed by a cult? Abducted by an alien and implanted with a microchip or three?”
The laugh I attempted came out like a snort. “Negative on both counts.”
“Then what, Laine? You two are the happiest couple I know.”
But I didn’t want to be a happy couple anymore. I wanted to be a happy family. Except I was afraid to tell Hadley this. Josh had basically been a brother to Hadley since the day I’d brought him home to meet everyone, and Hadley didn’t believe in keeping secrets from the people she loved. If I told her, she would for sure tell Josh.
“Where is this coming from, Laine? Did Josh cheat on you?”
“No.”
“Hurt you?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t think so, but that’s still a relief. So what is it, then? I mean, a separation is one thing. A little time away from each other is totally understandable. But a divorce? That’s like cutting off your nose to spite your face. Josh is a part of our family.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t talk to him again.”
“But he’s not going to come home for Christmas. Or go on vacation with us,” she said, even though we hadn’t traveled together in several years. She continued, “He won’t be a part of our family anymore, Lainey. Not the way he is now.”
I squeezed my lids shut. She was right, of course. What was I even doing? “I know that. And that all sucks. But . . . well, I can’t get into it. I’ll tell you more when I’m ready.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she said, not unkindly. “And when you’re ready to process your emotions, you know I’m happy to help.”
That was a hard pass from me. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do.”
This was often what my sister said right before she told me what to do.
Sure enough: “Why don’t you come to New York for a little bit? Just to clear your head and get some perspective. It’ll give us a chance to sit down together and talk about what we’re going to do about Mom. No pressure, but I could use your help with her, even for a couple of days. The twins are nursing around the clock, and I’ve still got a full client load. And you know Piper’s got her hands full with her kids and all of her shoots.”
Most models fizzled out by their late teens, but Piper had defied the odds. Just the other day, I’d opened a magazine to look for a story I’d written, only to see my little sister staring back at me, draped in more jewelry than a sane person would ever actually wear at one time. Maybe it was because her career had launched her into adulthood early, but she’d gotten a head start on having kids, too. Her eldest, Rocco, was already ten; Jae was eight; and Kaia was five.
“I’m not asking you to move here,” said Hadley. “Just, like, take a week to make sure Mom’s not eating expired food and leaving her front door open for all of New York to pick through her things.”
“A rummage sale isn’t the worst idea. ‘Everything must go!’” I managed to quip. Besides my mother’s actual death, one of the things I dreaded most was having to deal with her belongings. Sure, I was a whiz at organizing. Still, she had so. Much. Stuff.
“Har har. Seriously, come visit! I’ll pay for the plane ticket if you want—Topper and I are happy to cover the fare.” Hadley’s husband, Topper, was a young guy with old money and had a 10 percent stake in the city of Manhattan (only a slight exaggeration). “You don’t have to drive now that . . . well, just let me know.”
There was a new lump in my throat. I didn’t have to drive now that Belle could no longer make the ten-hour trip with me.
“Hey, Laine?”
“Yeah?”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ll feel bad if I don’t.”
“Okay . . .” I waited for her to say something about Josh.
Instead, she said, “Ben’s in town. I ran into him when I went to check on Mom last week. I just thought you should know, since you’re coming to visit.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
I’d describe Ben as my oldest friend, but the truth was, we hadn’t been friends since the winter before I graduated from college. Yet the very mention of his name and what I’d been calling a scar revealed itself as a wound that had never fully healed.
“That’s impossible,” I scoffed. “He’s in Australia. Maybe you saw someone else.” Then my face flushed, because I only would have known he was on the other side of the continent if I was checking up on him on social media. (Which was, of course, exactly what I’d been doing.)
“Nope,” said Hadley. “He’s back. I talked to him for a minute.”
I inhaled sharply, waiting for her to tell me what they’d spoken about.
“I really hope that isn’t a reason for you not to see us.”
“Ridiculous,” I spat.
“Good, then you’ll come,” she said, and just like that, I saw that I’d been outmaneuvered. “I’ll have Topper’s assistant reach out to you about a flight. Can’t wait for you to see how big the twins have gotten. They miss their auntie. And I do, too.”
“Love you,” I said.
“Love you more.”
I sat there staring at the wall for a long time after we got off the phone. And instead of worrying about my mother’s so-called declining mind, or the future of my marriage or the statistical probability that I could carry a baby, all I could think about was Ben and how much I did not want to run into him after sixteen years.
But also, how much I did.
THREE
LAINE
I was six when Ben and his family moved in three doors down from the brownstone my parents owned. It was a hot summer morning, and I was on the stoop, waiting for Hadley and her friends to stop ignoring me and ask me to jump rope with them; Piper, who was still too small to be on her own, was inside with my mother.
Then their moving van pulled up and out climbed Reggie, Ben’s father. Ben’s older brother, Bobby, was trailing behind him. Ben’s mother must have been there, too—she didn’t disappear until a couple of years later—but I don’t remember her now and can’t even recall what she looked like anymore.
Then there was Ben. He was short and skinny, with close-cropped hair and warm brown skin. As Reggie fished keys out of his pocket and began up the stairs of the brownstone where they’d just purchased an apartment, Ben leaned against the wrought-iron fence like he didn’t have a care in the world. When he spotted me, he smiled and waved. I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was waving at someone else, but Hadley and her friends were at the other end of the block and there was no one behind me. So I smiled and waved back.
I think he’s about my age, I thought as he disappeared after Reggie into the brownstone. But he’ll probably want to play with Hadley. Everyone always wanted to play with Hadley, who knew all the games and all the places to hang and all the kids in our neighborhood. But me? While I wasn’t naturally shy, being Hadley’s sister sometimes made me feel that way, and my closest friend, Tracy, had moved away that winter. So I spent most of my time finding ways to entertain myself. That usually meant cleaning up after everyone, since it was the best way to get my mother’s attention without throwing a tantrum.
A few minutes later, Ben emerged from the apartment on his own. He looked around for a moment before ambling over to our stoop.
“Hi,” he said. “My name’s Ben. What’s yours?”
“I’m Laine,” I said. He was smaller than me but seemed more grown-up. Or maybe just self-assured in a way that I wasn’t. “You moving in here?”
“Yep. What’s it like?” I’d later learn that they’d moved from California; Reggie, who was an engineer, had been transferred for work.
“S’okay. I’ve never lived anywhere else.” My mother’s father had purchased a run-down brownstone back when our Brooklyn neighborhood, Carroll Gardens, was a working-class haven rather than the yuppie mecca it’s since become. He’d spent years renovating the brownstone and turning it into a two-family home; my mother had inherited the whole building after her parents moved to Florida. We’d lived on the ground and garden floors, and my parents rented out the floor above us.