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“When are you getting back to Rochester?” I asked.

“Man, you’re a great maid of honor,” he said. His voice was flat. “You don’t even know when we’re getting back?”

“Man, you’re a great groom. You don’t even know you’re supposed to spend your wedding night with your bride.” I knew I was being nasty and I just didn’t care.

“Van, I- I need us . . . I need- ”

“Have you ever thought about what I need?” I couldn’t believe I’d actually said it. Something opened up in my chest like a rubber band stretching to the breaking point. All of a sudden, I felt like I could breathe deeper. “Have you ever thought about it even once, Pete?”

“Van, I- I can’t have this conversation now, Van.” His voice was low and strained, like he was talking through clenched teeth.

“Whatever.” I missed the old Peter. The one who would call just to tell me how his day went-before he had someone else to tell. That Peter had dinner with me every Friday night and we talked about real things and he was an amazing, supportive friend. This Peter was just my friend’s husband. I wanted this Peter to disappear.

“We’ve got a long layover here, so Sunday morning would work best. Please, Van.” I pictured him with his eyes all squinted up, pacing circles around a row of chairs.

“Sunday? I’m supposed to throw a party for you on Sunday?” I looked at the clock. “It’s Saturday already.” I thought about just hanging up and turning the ringer off. “I have plans.”

“Just call my parents. They’ll invite everyone.”

“For what?”

“Brunch.” He said it like it was easy.

“Brunch? Here?” I said it so loudly that Joe woke up and lifted his head. I patted his pillow and he put his head back down. “Pete, I have plans!”

“You can change them, can’t you?”

I thought about walking hand in hand with Alex, checking Christmas trees for bald spots, drinking hot cider from a stand, and breathing plumes of body heat into the brisk air.

“I don’t want to,” I said, and considered just slamming the phone down. Everyone could show up for the party, but if I just wasn’t there, they couldn’t do anything about it.

“Come on! You’re her best friend!”

“So that means I’m supposed to drop everything?”

“Yeah, Van, it does. That’s exactly what it means.”

I wanted to scream at him, but then I thought about Janie at my mom’s funeral. I pictured her so clearly in my head in that long black dress with her little black ballet flats. I thought she was going to be a mess, and it would be my job to put her back together again, like always. But she was just there for me. She barely even cried. She got me out of bed and dressed and to the service when I didn’t even think I could move. She had a never ending stockpile of clean tissues in her purse, and continually swapped them out for my crumpled, snot-filled ones. She held my hand the whole day, her cold little fingers tapping against mine to calm me when I started sobbing. She made sure I ate. She didn’t leave my side once. I don’t even think she peed the entire day. I leaned against her with all of my weight and she didn’t budge one bit. She loved my mom too, but she stayed strong to take care of me, and now I couldn’t even drop one little date to take care of her. Not to mention the fact that I called her husband on her honeymoon.

“Even if I did change my plans, I don’t know how to throw brunch.” If I was going to cave, at least I could make him work for it.

“Go get some bagels and make a lot of coffee.” His voice softened, but still sounded annoyed.

“Where the hell do you think I’m going to get bagels?”

“Smith’s makes good bagels.”

“They’re upstate bagels. I might as well get a bag of Wonder bread and cut circles in the middle.” I still had the remote in my hand. I turned the TV back on and put it on mute.

“Jane likes that place. We go there all the time.”

“Well, Janie isn’t expecting her parents, is she? I can’t serve Diane upstate bagels. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Just the thought of Diane made me squirm. “If they’re coming, I’m not doing this, Pete. Not with upstate bagels.”

The infomercial on the television was for some skin care system. There were split-screen pictures of people with horrible acne and then perfectly clear skin. The after pictures looked like completely new people. I wished I could peel all my skin off and be a completely new person-one who didn’t know Pete or Janie or Diane anymore. A person who was free to move on without any complications or guilt.

“Of course Diane’s coming. She’s Jane’s mom.”

“You really think they’ll come on such short notice?”

“They drove up yesterday. They’re staying at Woodcliff.”

“Diane and Charles drove up yesterday for a party at my place that I didn’t even know about? God, Pete! Really!”

“I know, Van. I know.” His voice was soft and deflated. “Please. I owe you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Thank you.”

Joe cuddled up closer to me, resting his head on my chest. He let out a big sigh.

“You’re so dramatic,” Pete said, but his voice was lighter. It wasn’t a dig.

“That wasn’t me. It was Joe.”

“Oh.” I could hear the hurt in his voice, and I liked it. “Who’s Joe?”

“Oh, you don’t know him,” I said. “You’ve been gone awhile.”

“I should go,” Peter said, quickly. “Janie should be coming back from duty free any minute.” He took a loud, deep breath. “So we’re good?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” He was waiting for me to hang up first.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you warn me about this before you left?”

“I didn’t know about it. You know how she is.”

“Yeah. Bye.” I hung up the phone. Joe started pawing at me to take him out.

After Joe and I got back inside, I tried to go back to sleep. I kicked my boots off and climbed into bed. Joe jumped onto the bed next to me and dug at the covers for a minute before lying down. His paws left wet marks on the sheets. I closed my eyes. Joe wriggled around, trying to get comfortable. I put my arm around him to try to get him to calm down. His ribs, rippling under layers of fur and skin, raised and lowered my arm with each breath. When he did settle back to sleep, it was with his nose pressed up against my cheek, like warm wet leather. One of his nostrils was channeling his breath right into my ear.

“All right, buddy. This isn’t working.”

I got up. I thought he’d come with me, but he flopped over into the spot I just left and nosed his head onto my pillow. He yawned and stretched his front legs out until his feet shook.

“You’re such a boy,” I said, as I walked out of the room. Joe was already snoring.

I
went downstairs, started a pot of coffee, and sat down at the table to sort through a pile of junk mail. The list of phone numbers Janie gave me before the wedding was at the bottom of the mail pile. I picked up the phone to call Peter’s mom, Scotty, but I didn’t dial. I didn’t want to. I put the phone down. I’ll sort the mail and then I’ll call, I told myself, but then I got wrapped up in an L.L.Bean catalog addressed to Rocco Leonard or Current Resident. I was also the Current Resident recipient of Rocco’s extensive list of lingerie catalogs. It was way too early in the morning to look at fake breasts trapped in fishnet, like unfortunate victims of the tuna industry, so I stuck with L.L.Bean, flipping through pages of monogrammed travel kits and lambskin slippers.

I imagined Alex and me sitting in Adirondack chairs, looking out at the Maine coast in matching fleece jackets, cozying up in front of a campfire under a red wool blanket, Joe stretched out across our feet. I inserted us into every picture, and even let myself flag flannel shirts he might like by folding down the corners of the pages. In the men’s section, there was a picture of a model who looked like Peter, with dark hair and a square jaw. He was standing on a dock wearing a blazer, khakis, and boat shoes, smiling that big fake catalog smile, with a woman who looked like her clothes never wrinkled and her hair never frizzed.

I turned the page on them and looked at fireplace accessories, trying to think about Alex and woodsmoke and Christmas trees instead. I could just go with Alex. I could just ignore them. I didn’t have to do this. I could move on and leave them to pick up the pieces for once.

The phone rang. I let it go to voice mail, but my heart did this awful
thunk, thunk, thud
thing until the phone beeped to tell me I had a new message. I called in to check it.

“Hi, Van!” It was Janie. “I miss you so much! Our flight got delayed, but we’re boarding soon. Just wanted to say hi. Can’t wait to see you and show you all the pictures. And so many magnets! Nat would be proud, but I feel bad for your fridge.” She laughed. “Okay, I think we’re boarding now. Love you! Bye!”

Janie and Diane and my mom and I had this running joke where we bought each other hideous tourist magnets whenever we went anyplace that had a gift shop. Janie and Diane brought back magnets from glamorous places like the Eiffel Tower and London Bridge when Charles took them with him on business trips. And we’d bring them magnets from rest stops or the aquarium in Norwalk. The goal was to find the tackiest magnet ever. When my mom and I stopped at South of the Border on a road trip one summer, we totally won. Diane and Janie had a five- inch-wide fluorescent pink sombrero on their fridge until Charles said he was sick of looking at it and it had to go. Then the sombrero took hitchhiking trips, secretly stuck to the side of a car or slipped in someone’s purse when she wasn’t looking. Eventually, it disappeared. No one was quite sure who had it last. We hadn’t done the magnet thing in years. Even before my mom died, it just kind of faded away. I wondered why Janie was starting it again. Maybe she missed my mom too. Maybe she missed the way things were.

I deleted all three messages from Peter without giving him a chance to say more than, “Hi Van,” “Hey, listen, I- ,” and “It’s me. Call me ba- ”

There was one more message.

“Savannah, hi. It’s Scotty Clarke.” She spoke briskly, like she had better things to do than leave me a message. “Just wanted to give a call with the tally for tomorrow morning. We have eighteen yeses and five maybes, not including Janie, Pete, and you. See you at eleven.”

My pulse quickened. Even Scotty knew about the party before me. I took a gulp of coffee. It was too hot. I swallowed and it burned the back of my throat, making my eyes tear up.

I’d done a good job of avoiding the Clarkes throughout the wedding festivities. It wasn’t hard. It’s not like they were tracking me down to catch up. I’d seen them periodically over the years, always in passing. The only time I’d ever spent any real time with them was the night Peter took me to have dinner at their house after midterms, freshman year.

I’d spent hours trying to find something to wear. I had gotten the base layer down-a black tank top and a long khaki skirt. But none of my sweaters looked right. They stretched too tightly across my boobs. I pulled a blue button-down shirt out of my closet, and was about to try it on, when the buzzer rang. I ran downstairs to open the door. Peter came in with a rush of cold air. I shivered.

“Hello,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down my arm to try to warm me. His hands were freezing, but I didn’t care. It was the first time he’d touched me.

“Hello.”

“You look great.”

I laughed. “I’m not done getting dressed. Come up for a sec?”

“Sure,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” I raised my eyebrows back at him. “None of this is coming off.” I waved my hand up toward my head and then pointed down to my toes like I was showing off a prize on a game show.

I walked up the stairs in front of him with an extra swagger in my step. I knew he was watching me. I resisted the urge to look back at him.

When we got to my room, he walked around and looked at everything.

“No roommate?” he said, pointing at the empty bed across from mine.

“Technically, I have a roommate.” I pulled the blue shirt on and buttoned it. “She stayed here the first night and cried hysterically the whole time.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Her parents live like twenty minutes away,” I said, “so she stays there mostly, and she brought most of her stuff back home. She studies here between classes sometimes.” I pointed to her desk.

Peter walked over and opened the top drawer. A lone pencil rolled forward. “You must be lonely.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” I smiled bravely. “I practically have my own room. As a freshman. It’s pretty cool.” In truth, I was horribly lonely. All the other girls on my floor went to dinner with their roommates, switched outfits, shared shoes. Even the roommates who were terribly mismatched at least had someone to venture out with until they met other people. “So, how does this look?”

Peter stood back from me and put his hand on his chin like he was considering a painting. He swirled his index finger in a circle. I spun around for him.