Page 69 of Since She's Been Gone

“Wanna bite?” Sarah asked me, moving her piece of cake in front of me.

I wanted a bite. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to believe I could be who she needed me to be at that moment, but I was too scared, too overwhelmed.

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s your slice. You should eat it.”

“Why don’t you get a piece?” she asked me.

“I’m full from lunch,” I lied.

A few months later, I lied again at another one of her school functions when she offered me some of her food. My fears about whether I’d measure up as a mom hadn’t dissipated. They’d only intensified.

But there was something else brewing underneath the fear. Something deeper. Something I struggled to get my arms around at the time—a feeling of worthlessness. I didn’t deserve to beanyone’smother. Not after my ED-related miscarriage.

“Are you coming over for dinner?” Sarah asks me over the phone, pulling me out of my memory.

I guess Eddie didn’t tell her that I left for New York. Maybe he didn’t want to have to lie about why I’m here.

“I can’t tonight,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” she says, sounding disappointed.

“But I promise I will again soon,” I tell her, wishing I could reach through the phone and hug her.

“Okay,” she says. “Bye.”

“Bye,” I say.

Eddie gets back on the phone. “Paul just texted me that he’s still waiting for you to eat lunch. It’s almost two o’clock in New York.”

“I’ve been immersed,” I explain.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“I can’t get into it right now,” I say.

“Are you okay?” he says, now sounding worried.

“I’m fine, but I’m about to meet my mom’s old roommate from New York,” I say, standing in the lobby of an art deco-style building on the Upper West Side. Esther Hermes’s building, which I Googled after leaving Alexander Valentine’s gallery in Chelsea.

“Her college roommate?” Eddie asks.

“They lived together off campus …” I hedge, leaving out how they really met. “I’ll call you when I get to Paul’s.”

“Okay, I’m waiting, and so is he,” he says. “One other thing …”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say. “Both of you.”

After we hang up, I think about how I’d give anything to be at his place—going over Sarah’s spelling words with her, all of us eating dinner together, instead of where I am right now.

“Excuse me,” a doorman dressed in a navy blue uniform with gold buttons says. He points to a Cell Phone Free Zone sign on his desk.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m off now. Will you please ring the Hermes residence?”

“And you are?” he asks.

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