Claire’s mind drifts to the dozen half-finished sketches of Jackie in said book, and her cheeks burn. “I didn’t think it was worth anyone’s time.”
Jackie sighs. “And who told you something like that?”
The answer is obvious, and goes unspoken.
“Can I ask you something personal?” Jackie says. The car slows to a stop at a red light.
“Of course.”
“Do you regret not going to college?”
Claire stares hard at the traffic light. It burns into her eyes, that glowing red spot—it reminds her of Jackie’s darkroom. She wishes she were there now, where Jackie might not be able to see themore than anythingwritten across her face. “Regrets aren’t very useful, are they? I didn’t go. There’s not much point in wondering what might have been.”
It’s a lie, of course. Claire has thought a thousand times about what it might have been like to accept the offer. She’s never even been to the campus, but she’s seen it on the news before. It’s been a long time since the longing was this acute.
The light turns green. Jackie usually hits the gas with a lead foot at a green light, but this time the car doesn’t move until the Ford behind them honks its horn.
“I’m sorry,” Jackie says. It’s almost lost to the wind. “For what it’s worth, I think you would have thrived.”
It’s only as Jackie drops her off at home that Claire realizes Anita didn’t ask any of the usual questions. She didn’t ask after Pete—she didn’t even reference him by name, only calling himthat boylike she always has. She didn’t ask if or when Claire was planning to start a family. She only asked after Claire. Her art, her life, and a few questions to get to know Jackie.
Just one whole, lovely afternoon with two people who care more about how Claire is doing than about what color the nursery will be.
Chapter 13
It’s not every day that a man lands on the moon.
Walter and Martha host a party to celebrate the grand occasion, of course. Half the neighborhood gathers around their television set, eagerly watching as three men do the impossible. A years-long quest to go where no man has gone before, ending here in Martha’s living room over devilled eggs and Jell-O salad.
Jackie hosts a party, too. She invites Claire, though they both know that there’s not a chance of her being able to go. Claire can see it ramping up across the road as she and Pete head home to bed at dusk—the music is so loud that it can be heard on the street, and there’s splashing and loud conversation coming from Jackie’s pool. Knowing that Jackie is in there somewhere makes Claire ache to be a part of it.
Pete’s day-drinking catches up with him quickly enough that, to Claire’s relief, he collapses into bed as soon as they cross the threshold. Bypassing her vanity, Claire peers out the window into Jackie’s yard. The pool lights are on, and the back door is open—music is still drifting up between the houses. The pool is full to bursting, and Claire is sure the house is the same.
Pete is sound asleep, and Claire is still dressed.
It feels as if someone else is controlling Claire’s body as she descends the stairs, slipping back into her shoes and opening the door as silently as she can. An invisible hand is guiding her to cross the lawns, dart up Jackie’s front step, and enter the party.
It’s different from Jackie’s housewarming in almost every way.
Last time, Claire had known most of the partygoers. Jackie invited the entire neighborhood, including people Claire knew. Nice, normal couples. Those people of course went to Marthaand Walter’s party instead and are now sound asleep in their beds. Claire knows none of the people milling around Jackie’s house this time, scattered all over the space in various states of interlocking lips and bodies. The air is thick and smoky with what Claire can now recognize is marijuana as well as tobacco, and Claire can see someone at the coffee table arranging white powder into neat little lines.
Claire can’t explain it away this time. Jackie is hosting a swinger’s party.
Claire can only imagine what Martha might say. She’d screech about decency, about values and morals. None of that is Claire’s concern. The truth is, Jackie hosting a party like this doesn’t bother Claire so much as it simply confounds her.
Jackie is smart. She’s kind and interesting andwonderful. Why would she feel the need to have these people in her house?
Once again, Claire has a hard time finding Jackie in the crowd at her own party. It’s a sea of people with a common purpose, but the hostess is lost in it. Claire drifts through the kitchen and out to the backyard, fixated on finding just one person, when she’s seized by the shoulders.
Whirling around, she’s somewhat disappointed to find that it’s Theo.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed be here,” Theo says loudly, tapping Claire on the tip of her nose. It’s significantly less charming than when Jackie did it.
“Does Jackie not want me here?” Claire says. A sudden worry grips her, and she steps back from him.
Theo lets go of Claire’s shoulders, which only serves to highlight how inebriated he is—he wavers on his feet, giggling. He’s also wearing makeup, dark eyeliner and bright crimson lipstick, which Claire isn’t sure how to navigate. “No, shedefinitelydoes. But I’m told your husband has certain rules that this is in clear violation of.”
“My husband is sleeping,” Claire says shortly.
