Chapter 13
Stacia’s son was turning three, and Cherry was invited to the party.
This was when Cherry saw the adults in her life now, when their kids had parties. Between her nieces and nephews and all of
her friends’ kids, she could eat cake almost every weekend if she wanted.
A three-year-old’s birthday party was still mostly for the parents. There were more adults than kids at this one. Stacia and
her husband, Jim, were serving wine spritzers.
They’d rented a ball pit with a slide and set it up in their family room. (The family room was huge. The whole main floor was open plan.) Jim and a few other dads were standing over the pit like lifeguards.
Cherry was sitting at the bar in the kitchen, eating spinach dip and grain-free tortilla chips. Stacia and Jim didn’t do gluten.
The party had been spritzing for a couple hours already.
Stacia came to lean on the other side of the counter. She sighed. She was wearing white pants and a cropped white sweatshirt.
All her jewelry was gold. “Sorry I haven’t said hello.”
“You said hello,” Cherry said.
Stacia glanced around them. “I wasn’t expecting all these people—I don’t know why Jim invited his sand volleyball team.”
Cherry smiled. She liked Jim. “It seems like the perfect amount of people. Everyone’s having a good time.”
Stacia was still looking around. “You know what, I should introduce you to some of these volleyball players . . . A few of
them are single.”
This was something that Stacia had started in the last couple months—and something she used to do before Tom. She’d make a fuss about how she was going to fix Cherry up. As if anyone in Stacia’s circle would date a fat person.
Stacia had grown up beautiful with money, and then married someone beautiful with money. Her kids went to expensive schools,
and she worked out at an expensive gym. Her clothes all looked like something Meghan Markle would wear on casual Friday. And
most of her friends had a similar vibe.
Cherry had always been the outlier. Cherry had been a scholarship kid at Creighton. She was poor and fat and artsy. She and
Stacia might never have become friends if they hadn’t been thrown together as roommates freshman year. They lived together
all through college.
After Cherry graduated and got a corporate job—and several promotions—her world had moved closer to Stacia’s. Cherry worked
almost exclusively with Stacia types now, on the top floor of the Western Alliance building, but she still never quite felt
like she belonged.
Stacia’s other friends had stayed skinny even as they got older and had kids. Actually, none of them seemed to be getting older. According to Stacia, they were all on semaglutide and testosterone—so they were skinnier and hornier than ever.
This checked out; Cherry was the only one eating the spinach dip.
Stacia herself was naturally lean and worked hard to stay that way. Her husband frowned on prescription drugs, so there was
no Mounjaro in her life. (Stacia wasn’t even vaccinated for Covid.)
Cherry got through Stacia’s parties the same way she’d gotten through college surrounded by upper-middle-class, thin people—by
keeping her chin up and being a good hang. People generally liked Cherry.
But there was no amount of good humor, or wine spritzers, that would make anyone at this party romantically interested in
her.
“I’m serious,” Stacia said. “You should think about it.”
“About dating a sand volleyball player?”
“About dating someone. It’s been almost a year.”
“Well.” Cherry tipped her head and stuck a chip in the spinach dip. “Sort of.”
Tom had left a year ago, but they’d only been separated for six months.
“I know you’re not ready”—Stacia grabbed a handful of chips—“but you might never be ready. You don’t want to wallow away your youth.”
In Stacia’s mind, the worst thing Tom had done was waste Cherry’s fertile years. (Cherry’s sisters would agree.)
“I’m not wallowing,” Cherry said.
“The last time I asked about your weekend, you told me you were making curtains.”
“I’ve always made curtains. I’m crafty.”
“Yeah, but it was different when you were married. Single women shouldn’t be making curtains on weekends. It’s getting you
nowhere.”
“Where I am supposed to be going?”
“Forward,” Stacia said. “Into the future.”
“I’m not defying the rules of time and space by making curtains. The future will still happen.”
Stacia dug into the spinach dip, frowning. “Cherry, you know what I mean. You’re treading water.”
“You’re supposed to be happy that I didn’t drown.”
“I am.” Stacia sighed and repeated herself in a nicer voice, looking in Cherry’s eyes. “I am. But I don’t want you to end up like”—her
voice dropped—“Elaine.”
Jim’s mother had never gotten over her husband cheating on her with his receptionist. (He was a chiropractor, too.) She’d
never remarried or even dated, and now she was too much a part of Jim and Stacia’s life. Elaine was never happy. She was sitting
in the family room now, probably sighing.
“You’ve got to get back out there,” Stacia said. “Before you’re ready.”
Cherry had already decided not to tell Stacia about Russ. Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Whatever was happening with Russ Sutton might not even turn into anything real. Cherry had seen him four times so far—including
the night they hooked up—and they hadn’t had sex again. She wasn’t exactly sure why not. Maybe Russ had taken her seriously
when she’d said that she didn’t usually rush into sex. Or maybe he felt like they’d rushed in.
Maybe Russ was trying to figure out whether he actually wanted Cherry. In a regular, ongoing way. During daylight.
She couldn’t hold that against him. That was just dating, right?
“I just don’t want you to waste any more young, hot years on Tom,” Stacia was saying. “You gave him plenty.”
“Look,” Cherry said. “I’m not wallowing. I promise.”
“Cherry—”
“I’m seeing someone.” It came out before Cherry could stop herself. “I mean, I have seen someone. A few times.”
Stacia’s eyes got huge. Her mouth dropped open, full of spinach dip. “What?” She leaned over the counter to grab Cherry’s arm. (Still with that long torso.) “Who?!”
“It’s so new,” Cherry said. “There’s nothing to talk about yet.”
Stacia pinched Cherry’s arm. “Who!”
“Ow. Stacia!”
Stacia let go. “Cherry, you can’t not talk to me about this. I’m your oldest friend.”
Cherry wrinkled her nose. “Are you? I’ve known Jena since grade school . . .”
“You never even talk to Jena. She was a bitch to you at your wedding.”
Cherry took a breath. “I . . . um . . . Okay—”
“Wait,” Stacia said, like she’d just thought of something. “Is it a guy?”
“Yes.” Cherry goggled her eyes. “Why would you even ask that?”
“I don’t know . . .” Stacia shrugged. “You have a lot of LBGTQIA friends.”
“Do you even know what all those letters stand for?”
“Yes. I did a seminar at the clinic—so, suck it. Now, tell me where you met this guy. Did you join the apps?” She stuck out her bottom lip. “You told me that you’d let me take pictures for your profile when you joined the apps.”
“I didn’t join the apps. It was someone I already knew—”
“Oh god, it’s that married guy who always flirts with you during meetings! This is a terrible idea, Cherry.”
“Stacia, no. Stop guessing. It’s—” Cherry made a face like she was about to drop a drinking glass on a tile floor. “It’s Russ.”
Stacia didn’t react. “Russ who?”
Cherry sighed. “Russ. Russ Sutton.”
Stacia pulled her chin into her neck. “My Russ?”
Cherry nodded.
“Oh my god.” Stacia’s eyes were big again. “Really? He works in the mayor’s office now.”
“I know.”
“Did you call him?” She seemed shocked.
“No. We just ran into each other, like, two weeks ago.”
“Cherry, are you sleeping with Russ Sutton?”
“No.” Cherry grimaced. “I mean, yes. Yes, but not much.”
“Oh my god,” Stacia said again, looking over Cherry’s head. “Wow. Wow, wow, wow.”
“Stacia, I’m sorry.”
Her eyes snapped back to Cherry. “Don’t be sorry. It’s been fifteen years.”
“Yeah, but there’s a code . . . I think. For these things. Hoes before, I don’t know—men.”
“Wow.” Stacia picked up another chip and pointed it at Cherry. “You know what? This isn’t surprising.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.” Stacia dipped the chip and put it in her mouth. “I mean . . .” She chewed. She looked thoughtful. “Yes, a little. But
you guys always got along. I could tell he liked you.”
“You thought Russ liked me?”
“Well . . .” Stacia bobbled her head back and forth. “Not like that. But I knew you were friends. I knew that you liked him.”
Cherry cringed. “You did?”
Stacia shrugged again. “Yeah, sort of. I mean . . .” She nodded. “Yeah.”
Cherry felt so guilty. And so embarrassed. She couldn’t even deny it—she had liked Russ. “Did it bother you?”
“No.” Stacia reached across the counter again to touch Cherry’s shoulder, reassuring. “No, no. He was cute. I knew you wouldn’t,
like, make a pass at him. And I didn’t think he’d cheat on me.”
“He didn’t. I mean—not with me. There was never anything there.”
Stacia raised her eyebrows and smiled at Cherry. “Or maybe there was . . .”
“No. Stacia. He really liked you. He didn’t even talk to me after you dumped him.”
“No, I know that he liked me . . .” Stacia sighed, like she was remembering something nice. “That was a good year. I thought
I was going to marry Russ Sutton.”
“Oh god. I’m so sorry.”
“Cherry, it’s okay—I dumped him. I met someone else.”
Cherry was still grimacing. “I know, but . . .”
“How did this even happen? Where did you run into him?”
“At a concert.”
“And . . . ?”
“We just . . . hit it off. It was good to see him. He’s divorced. We caught up.”
“And he asked you out? Did you ask him out?”
“No. We—We left together.”
Stacia gasped. (Only mostly for effect.) “Cherry. This is very unlike you.”
“It seemed like a good idea in the moment.”
“Was it? Have you seen him since then?”
“A few times. Yeah.” Cherry nodded. “It’s good.” She shook her head. “I think it’s good.”
Stacia smiled. It was a genuine smile.
Cherry felt relief wash through her. “I like him so much, Stace.”
Stacia laughed. She slapped Cherry’s arm. “Wow! Russ Sutton! I mean, why not?” She looked thoughtful again. “I don’t think
there’s anything wrong with him . . . At least there wasn’t in college—he never asked me to do anything weird. He was actually
really sweet. His parents were stuck-up. But they’ll probably like you—you’re an intellectual.”
“I am not.”
“You read . . .”
“He has a kid,” Cherry said.
“Have you met the kid?”
“We’re nowhere near that.”
Stacia looked far away for a second. “He was so cute . . . Is he still cute?”
Cherry nodded. Guiltily.
“Cherry,” Stacia said. “We’re good. You didn’t break any code.”
“I think I probably did . . .”
“Now, if Jim and I get divorced, he is off limits.”
Cherry held up her hands. “I would never go near Jim.”
Stacia looked hurt. “Don’t say it like that! Besides, I know you like Jim . . .”
“I like him a normal amount.”
“You guys love to play cards. Always with the spades.”
“I like Jim the way you like your oldest friend’s husband. Also, for the record, Jim would never come near me.”
Stacia got another chip and crunched into it, frowning at Cherry. “Hmmmm.”
Cherry stayed at the party until all the skinny ladies and sand volleyball players and toddlers had gone home. Until it was just Stacia and Jim and Jim’s mom and Cherry. The four of them played spades and ate the rest of the gluten-free party food while the kids watched Bluey.
When Cherry couldn’t stop yawning, Stacia walked her to the door.
“Oh my god,” Cherry said, putting on her coat. “I forgot to tell you—Tom’s movie trailer came out.”
Stacia made a sad face. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“Did you watch it?”
Stacia still looked sad. “Yeah.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t mention it. Nobody mentioned it to me all day.”
“I told them not to—I figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it.”
Cherry put her hand over her heart, feeling touched. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Stacia nodded sympathetically.
“You’re a really good friend,” Cherry said.
“I try.”
Cherry gave her a hug, then walked out onto the sidewalk.
“Tell Russ I said hi!” Stacia called after her.
Cherry looked back, grimacing.
“Or maybe don’t,” Stacia said.
“I don’t think I will,” Cherry agreed.
Stacia seemed delighted. “This is going to be so awkward . . .”
“Good night!”