11. Sophia #2
Remembering the story on his Wikipedia page about the wild yacht party with the girls’ volleyball team, I feel slightly nauseated. Then I remind myself that was a decade ago while he was in college.
“How long ago was he with your hairdresser?”
“I don’t remember which month, but it was earlier this year. She said she saw in the gossip rags he was linked to a bunch of other women after that, none of them lasting more than a few weeks. She was really sore about it. She felt used.”
My thoughts drift back to last night. Was that look on the hostess’s face at Nobu when she saw us together more than wistfulness? Was it jealousy? Was it hurt?
Did he fuck that girl, toss her aside, then casually offer to have her fired?
The Carter I know wouldn’t be so cruel. But then again, I hardly know him at all.
Two dinners and one orgasm does not a close relationship make.
I moisten my dry mouth with a sip of wine. “Well. If I were single, in my twenties, and had all that money, I’d probably be having a lot of fun too.”
Val and Ev peer at me with identical looks of skepticism. Val says, “Don’t tell me you actually like this guy.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. You’re defending him.”
“I’m merely making the point that he’s not doing anything wrong by enjoying himself.”
They exchange another glance, which gets on my nerves.
“Come on, guys. You’re making too big a deal of this. We went on two dates. We had a little oral. End of story.”
“So you’re not going to see him again?”
“I have no plans to.”
This is technically true, as I still haven’t answered the half dozen texts he sent after he left last night and this morning asking me to let him come over tonight and tongue fuck me again.
Ev pronounces with finality, “Good. Because you went through too much hell with Nick to rebound with some womanizer who goes through girls like pairs of socks.”
I know she’s just being protective, but all this negativity is getting on my nerves. Even if he is a playboy and goes through women like socks, it’s my decision whether or not I see him again.
“Nick and I have been divorced for two years. It’s hardly a rebound. How’s your mom, Val?”
I can tell by her expression that she doesn’t want to let the subject of Carter go, but she decides to have mercy on me and changes the subject.
“We just heard her cancer’s back.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
“My dad’s acting like she has a cold. He’s so dismissive, like she’s making a fuss over nothing.”
“Shutting down is probably just his way of coping with stress. Either that, or he’s in denial because he’s scared.”
She nods, sighing. “Yeah. But that makes it even more stressful for everyone else, feeling like you have to walk around on eggshells. Anyway, both my sisters are with her now. I’m going to fly out to Scottsdale next week to be with her at her first chemo appointment.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. Ev, who lost both parents to cancer within months of each other last year, squeezes her shoulder. Then we drink in silence, each occupied with our own thoughts.
“How’s your mom, Soph?” says Ev.
“Not great. Will says she’s starting to get incontinent, not to mention mean.”
“ More mean? Is that even possible?”
“Apparently. She asked him if he thought she’d go to jail if she smothered him in his sleep.”
Ev chuckles. “She said that to her golden boy, the prince? Wow.”
“That was my reaction. It could be the onset of dementia. I’ve heard people’s personalities can change for the worse. In any case, he wants to put her into assisted living.”
Val says, “And give up the tax benefit he gets for being her primary caretaker? That doesn’t sound like our Will. He’d step over a dying person to pick up the dollar bill on the ground on the other side of them.”
Of course they know about the time he was arrested for stealing when he was a teenager. And the time he forged paperwork to impersonate my father to get a loan. And all the other morally gray things he’s done chasing money that never seem to satisfy his craving for it.
“I think he’s just worn out. I can’t blame him. Five years of caring for Carmelina Bianco would drain the life force out of anyone. So I’ll have to find more money in my budget to share the cost of getting her into a good facility.”
After a moment, Ev says gently, “You know you’re not obligated to do that, right?”
“She’s my mother.”
“It’s not written anywhere that you have to reward bad behavior.”
“No, it’s not. And she’s still my mother.”
Val says, “She treated you like a scullery maid. Cinderella’s evil stepmother was nicer, which is why you worked your ass off to get that scholarship to UCLA. So you could get out of that house of horrors.”
“You make it sound like I grew up with Charles Manson.”
“No. But maybe Cruella de Vil. Do you remember that time she told me I looked like my face had been lit on fire and someone put it out with a shovel?”
I wince at the memory.
My father begged me to come home for Christmas my junior year in college, and I agreed only under the condition a friend could come with me.
I needed the emotional support. But I knew as soon as we arrived that it was a mistake.
I thought my father would run interference like he usually did, deflecting the worst of my mom’s snide remarks and passive aggressive negativity, but she took one look at Val and sharpened her knives.
Val isn’t a classic beauty, but she’s grown from an awkward teenager into a striking woman who’s smart, funny, and strong. Unfortunately, a person’s good inner qualities don’t matter to someone who doesn’t have any of their own.
We didn’t make it to dinner. On the drive back to campus, I apologized to Val so profusely, she finally told me to shut up.
“You can’t choose your parents,” she said, and we never spoke of it again. Until now.
“Yes, I remember. I’m still kicking myself over my stupidity thinking that she’d behave.”
Val waves that off. “Her BS is on her, not you. The important thing is that you turned out halfway decent despite your awful mother.”
“Halfway decent? Stop, I’m getting teary-eyed.”
She smiles and blows me a kiss.
“Speaking of awful, do you want to hear the bombshell Nick casually dropped on me when he came to pick up Harlow?”
“What is it?”
“Brittany’s pregnant.” I glance down at my salad to escape their twin expressions of dismay. “It was bound to happen. I suppose I just wasn’t expecting it so soon, considering they’re not married yet.”
Ev is livid. “Yeah, and because she’s still a baby herself! I didn’t even think this whole wedding business would actually occur, but now they’re pregnant?”
“How are you sitting with that?” asks Val softly. “You okay?”
“It’s not like I have a choice. It is what it is.”
Ev says hotly, “That fucker. You had to have a hysterectomy because your fibroids were so painful, they were debilitating, but he acted like you were faking it to get out of having another child. Then he hooked up with a girl young enough to be his daughter while you were still married and decides to have another baby with her ? Major asshole.”
“We don’t know if it was his decision or not. History is full of women who thought a baby would help keep the relationship together.”
“Oh please. If Nick didn’t want that baby, he’d be out of there so fast, her head would spin. That’s how he is: my way or the highway.”
“She’s right,” agrees Val, nodding. “You know what I think? He’s punishing you.”
“Bingo,” say Ev. “He’s still mad that you left. He thought he could have his cake and eat it too, but he didn’t realize you weren’t playing that game anymore.”
Val sighs. “Men are so disappointing. Sometimes, I think heterosexuality is a curse.”
Ev turns to her, smiling. “Are you trying to tell me you’re in love with me? Because I’ve suspected it for years.”
“Of course you have. You’re the sun in your own little solar system. Honestly, though, I think lesbians have it made. Imagine never having to explain to your partner that period cramps are real.”
Ev nods in agreement. “Or that leaving dirty clothes on the floor next to the laundry basket isn’t the same thing as putting them inside it.”
“Or that caring for your own child isn’t ‘helping out.’”
“Or that saying ‘I love you’ isn’t only for when you’re about to die.”
My phone chimes. I slip it from my purse and look at the screen. It’s a text from Carter.
I’m trying not to worry that you haven’t texted me back all day, but I’m low-key panicking. If I did something wrong, please tell me. I’ll fix it. I’m gaga over you. When can I see you again?
His eagerness unfurls a bud of tenderness beneath my breastbone. I was spot on when I told him he was dangerous, because I only wrestle with myself for seconds before replying.
You didn’t do anything wrong. If you’re free tomorrow night, I’ll cook you dinner. My place. Six.
He answers instantly.
YES FUCK YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES!!!
That’s followed by a gif of SpongeBob SquarePants passing out in a dead faint.
I return the phone to my handbag. When I look up, Val and Ev are still complaining about men.
“Yes,” says Val. “There are great guys out there. The problem is that they’re all gay.”
Before today, I might have agreed with them. Now, I simply sip my wine and think.