“Don’t tell me you never did anything dumb when you were twenty-two.”
“I loved you so much.” Liz didn’t raise her voice; she felt more sad than outraged. “From the time we met—I would have done anything for you. I thought you were so smart and cute and funny, and I was so flattered that you respected me and wanted to be friends. But how could you have strung me along all these years? If my excuse is a misguided crush, what’s yours?”
“Nin—” Jasper said, and his pained tone was a reminder that, however he had transgressed, he hadn’t done so entirely callously. His affection for her was not fake; it just was partial. Or perhaps it was fake, he was faking emotion now, and he had a personality disorder; but between these possibilities, she preferred to see him as inadequate rather than clinically diagnosable. “I’m going to do better,” he said. “Starting now, I’m getting my act together. Don’t give up on me.”
“Oh, Jasper,” Liz said. “I already have.”
SHE HAD BEEN asleep for less than an hour when her cellphone rang again, and the sound of it in the dark, in a hotel room, late at night, was sufficiently unsettling that she answered before even looking at the caller ID to make sure it wasn’t Jasper again.
“I woke you up,” said a female voice. “Sorry. I’ll call back tomorrow.”
It wasn’t Jane; that was the fact Liz was certain of first, but several additional seconds passed before her brain determined who it was.
“Charlotte,” she said. “Hi. It’s fine. I’m awake.”
And then Charlotte Lucas began to sob, and between gulps, she said, “You told me so. You told me, but I moved here anyway, like an idiot.”
“Hold on,” Liz said. “Slow down. Where are you?”
“I’m at the house. His house.”
“You’re not—he isn’t, like, abusive, is he?”
Charlotte sniffled lavishly. “No, he’s not abusive. Willie’s a sweet, self-centered dork.”
“Is he with you right now?”
“He’s at work, where he always is.” Liz could hear Charlotte swallow, and she sounded slightly calmer when she next spoke. “I’m so dumb.”
“Did something happen?”
“I moved to a state where I don’t know anyone,” Charlotte said. “Including my own boyfriend. That’s what happened.”
“But did something specific happen? Have you been feeling this way all along?”
“I got a job offer,” Charlotte said, and Liz said, “That’s great!”
“You’d think. It’s a good job, too, with a data analytics company that expects to triple in size in the next year. I’d had a bunch of interviews, but nothing panned out until I got the offer this afternoon. And somehow it made it all real. I’ve been taking it easy, like going to the gym for an hour and a half in the middle of the day and cooking fancy recipes that we eat at ten o’clock at night. But if I take this job, it means I’m no longer playing house, impersonating a good little 1950s homemaker. I’ll really live out here, long-term, with Willie.”
“Do you not want that?”
“I don’t know what I want!” Charlotte wailed. “Maybe instead of taking the job, I should get pregnant now, and that way, even if Willie and I break up, I’ll still be a mom.”
“I can see how this feels overwhelming,” Liz said, “but I think you’re conflating separate issues.”
“Have I mentioned that Willie snores like a freight train? And I lie there, thinking, Okay, if I’d dated him for two years before we moved in together, like normal people do—or even for six months—I’d have gotten used to this. Or I’d be deeply in love with him and be like, Oh, the endearing foibles of my darling boyfriend. Instead, I feel like I’m a mail-order bride, and he’s an annoying stranger robbing me of sleep.”
“Nobody thinks snoring is endearing,” Liz said. “Does he know he does it?”
“I have no idea!”
“Ask him. If he doesn’t know, he should see a doctor in case he has breathing problems. And aren’t there special pillows you can buy? But the bigger question is whether you want to make it work. If you’d rather get on a plane and go back to Cincinnati, you’re allowed to. I’ll bet Procter would hire you again in a heartbeat.”
“If I pay for your ticket, will you come out here and tell me what to do with my life?”
“Now?”
“Do you have plans for Labor Day weekend? You’re still in Cincinnati, right?”
“I’m in Houston. I interviewed Kathy de Bourgh, who was giving a speech here today, and I was planning to go back to New York in the morning.”
“Kathy de Bourgh—oh my God! Was she awesome?”
“Yes,” Liz said. “She actually was.”
“I know I’m asking a lot,” Charlotte said. “But I just need someone else’s perspective, someone who knows me well. We have a guest room.”
The thought of staying in Willie’s house after their last interaction was not enticing to Liz. But she said, “I’ll look at flights after we get off the phone, but promise me one thing: Go to a drugstore right now and get earplugs. Or sleep in a different room tonight.”
“Earplugs aren’t a bad idea,” Charlotte said.