“I have no friends here,” Van hissed, furious now. “Everyone is your friend, and they haven’t been exactly welcoming, so if I get invited to one Christmas party maybe I might want to go. Even if your ex-girlfriend is going to be there.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Everybody loves you. My parents adore you. And Dennis thinks you’re great.” This wasn’t strictly accurate. Whenever they met for dinner, or drinks, or a casual movie, the conversation was cool and impersonal unless Dennis decided that Van needed to be flirted up, in which case all burners went on high. In other social situations Van was effortlessly positive and poised, presenting herself confidently as the working wife of a young doctor in Cincinnati. But that’s pretty much where things had leveled off. Kyle told himself it was just a matter of time till everyone got to know each other but even his parents seemed to have settled into a kind of withholding formality. Susan was still trying too hard publicly and not giving anything privately. For all her charms, Van had not been let in, and he did not know why. The sudden recognition of the pain and loneliness that this exclusion must be causing her softened the irrationality of his mood.
“Look. We should go,” he said. “Really. It’s not the only Christmas party. And if it isn’t going to be fun, I don’t see any point in staying.” He meant it as a kindness, but Van’s eyes flickered at this, settling themselves into some sort of sullen, disappointed rage. Why? He was saying, I can see that this is no fun for you, let’s get out of here. Why would that piss her off?
Whether he knew why or not, it most certainly had. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” she replied. “Besides, if we walk out within instants of your little tête-à-tête with your old girlfriend, people will be gossiping for weeks.”
“I can’t imagine that people find us that fascinating, Van.”
“You can count on it, Kyle,” she informed him. And with that she plastered on a lovely, bright smile, and waved her hideous glass of dead club soda at Dennis, who was in fact watching them with a shred too much interest from across the room. “Help! Help!” she called with her bubbling laugh. “He’s failed me utterly!”
She was so pretty and impermeable. She said things which were clearly meant to express something about her interior life but he simply couldn’t understand what she meant, or even what the words meant. It was like talking to a puppet. It was less coherent than talking to a puppet. With a puppet, you could take things at face value, and interpret backward, to what the hidden meaning might be when you worked what you knew about the identity of the puppet master into the equation. But there was no puppet, no puppet master, only words that indicated emotions in a way which revealed nothing, words which simply mystified the workings of the heart even further. If his head was made of glass, then hers was iron, or stone.
“His interview with the great actress was more impressive than mine,” Van informed Dennis, who had joined them behind the pillar. “At least it went on long enough for my club soda to lose all its fizz.”
“Well, that’s a metaphor if I’ve ever heard one,” Dennis noted.
“You told me she wasn’t coming, Dennis,” Kyle reminded him.
Dennis smirked. “You needed to get that over with,” he informed his friend. He took the weakened scotch out of Kyle’s hand and leaned through the people cluttering the end of the bartop to return the empty plastic tumblers to the bartender. “Two Macallans, and we would appreciate a heavy pour.”
“I’m driving.”
“Van’s only drinking club soda, she can drive. Besides, you’ve earned it. That was hard, seeing Alison, and you both got through it. Well done, Kyle. Well done, Van.” Van lifted her chin with the slightest edge of appreciation at this and Kyle recognized that once again Dennis had managed to soothe her agitation with a minimum of effort. How did he do it? What did it matter. He took another hit and let his glance float over the crowd. Alison was nowhere to be seen.
eight