Chapter 5 #5
“I can’t believe this is your first time out here,” Graham says. “Lots of pressure on us to get you to love it. And us, I guess.”
It’s getting chillier as the sun sets, the sky changing from pink to lavender, the birdsong quieting.
“Yeah?” Susan says, thinking of the title of Graham’s book, his work on polyamory. Perhaps she’s auditioning to join a throuple. “Is this the part where you seduce me?”
She’s kidding, but it doesn’t come out that way, and no one laughs.
Graham clears his throat.
Eliza taps her nails on the armrest.
“Only joking,” Susan says, as lightly as possible. “Anyone else feel like they’ve forgotten how to socialize, post-lockdown?”
“Absolutely,” Eliza says.
Graham checks his watch. “I made us a dinner reservation, but I can cancel it if you’re too tired,” he says. “The jet lag is no joke.”
“No, let’s go,” Susan says, even though she’s exhausted. She doesn’t want to make any more waves.
When they head out, Graham leaves his pile of olive pits on the table. Susan wonders who, exactly, is expected to clean it up.
The backyard of the restaurant, with heat lamps and potted succulents, feels dreamy in the way Susan always assumed California would.
Even the light looks different. She can’t tell if it’s the jet lag, but it almost feels like they’re on the set of a movie.
They take a table nestled in the corner; Susan sits across from Eliza, Eliza next to Graham.
Like she and Eliza are on a date that he’s crashing.
She tries hard to address them both when she speaks.
She’s not here to cause trouble. Or is she?
“So what brought you guys out here?” Susan asks.
“I’m from here,” Graham says.
“I wanted to be famous,” Eliza says, a little too seriously.
A laugh escapes from Susan before she can hold it back, and Eliza looks embarrassed. “Sorry,” Susan says, taking a sip of water. “Go on.”
Eliza shrugs, and the humor returns to her eyes. “You know, when you’re conventionally attractive, you end up kind of expecting certain things out of your life.”
“Like fame?”
“Like fame.” Eliza nods, now fully laughing at herself, which is a relief to Susan; there’s some self-awareness happening.
“But this city is full of girls who spent their whole lives being told they were beautiful, only to get here and realize you can throw a rock and hit the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen in your life. ”
As if on cue, a group of women with long blond hair and flawless tans is seated at the table next to them. They’re all wearing floral-print prairie dresses, and they’re so pretty Susan has to look away.
“So you wanted to be an actor?” she asks Eliza.
“An actor, a director, a writer, just something.”
“Well, you’re a writer,” Susan says. “Seems like you’re about to be known in the way you’ve wanted.”
“Maybe,” Eliza says. “We’ll see.”
A server who looks like he’d rather be surfing comes over. “Any dietary restrictions?”
“Nope,” Susan says.
“Paleo,” Graham says.
“Raw vegan,” says Eliza.
“So that’s how you’ve stayed skinny,” Susan says, and Eliza laughs, waving her off.
“We’ll have a bottle of wine, too,” Graham says. “Whatever you’ve got that’s red and organic. We like it a little funky.”
“Chilled okay?” the server asks, and Graham nods.
When they’re each two glasses in, Graham says, “So, Susan, are you dating anyone?”
Susan has never had chilled, funky red wine before. It tastes a little bit like rot, but in an appealing way. At the neighboring table, the blond women are sharing pasta, though none of them look like they’ve touched carbs since the ’90s.
She shakes her head. “I haven’t been this single since I was straight.”
Graham rests his hand on Eliza’s knee. Susan notes it with a small pang of longing.
“What happened to the hot nurse?” Eliza asks.
Susan narrows her eyes. “How do you know about Angie?”
“I know how to use Instagram,” Eliza says.
“Oh, that’s right,” Susan says. “Liz Cook follows me.”
“It me,” Eliza says, parroting Susan, which is annoying. “So what happened to Angie?”
“We broke up during the pandemic.”
“I’m sorry,” Graham says.
Eliza rests her head on Graham’s shoulder. It’s the first time Susan has seen her touch him. They look like a married couple. Which they are. Who is she to have feelings about it?
“It’s actually okay,” Susan admits. “She was great, but it just wasn’t right. For either of us.”
“Oh,” Graham says. “Well then, good, I guess?”
Trying to change the subject, and feeling emboldened by the wine, Susan says, “Is this weird for you guys at all?”
Eliza lifts her head off Graham’s shoulder and then they both stare at her, frozen and unblinking.
“Because Eliza and I … have history?”
They’re quiet for a few moments, and Graham says, “I’m going to use the restroom.”
“It’s a little weird,” Eliza says, when Graham is out of earshot. She leans forward, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “But that’s why you’re here. So we can figure out how to make it less weird. And anyway, as I keep reminding myself, we only slept together three times.”
“Four times,” Susan corrects, leaning forward, too, her hushed voice mirroring Eliza’s.
“Three and a half,” Eliza offers.
“Why half?”
“You didn’t get off at Katie’s wedding.”
Susan is stunned that Eliza remembers this level of detail. She wonders what it means. Or if she’s perhaps too drunk and jet-lagged to be the judge of anything.
“That’s true,” she says, sitting back, remembering. “And then you really hurt my feelings.”
“I’m sorry.” Eliza frowns. “I didn’t mean to. I needed to protect myself.”
“I know,” Susan says. “I’m sorry I put you in that position.”
“Do you still talk to Kyle?” Eliza asks.
“Never,” Susan says. “And for what it’s worth, Katie and Jake don’t, either. He became super conservative. He’s really deep into QAnon, too. Also, and this is kind of funny, he plays in an Alkaline Trio cover band at some trashy bar on Jericho Turnpike.”
“I could have called all of that,” Eliza says, and the corners of her mouth tug down.
“I didn’t mean to dredge up the past like that.”
“I know.” Eliza sighs. “It’s okay.” The dark look on Eliza’s face lifts and she smiles. “How many times do you think we should apologize to each other in this conversation?”
“Probably like five to ten more times, just to be safe.”
Graham emerges from the bathroom. As he begins to walk across the restaurant toward their table, Susan, feeling a little reckless and more than a little masochistic, says, “Can I just say one more thing?”
Eliza nods, and Susan says, “It was the best sex of my life.”
Susan almost doesn’t recognize herself, hearing these words come out of her own mouth.
Eliza is still blushing when Graham gets back to the table.
“What did I miss?” he says.
Eliza is speechless.
“Your wife was starting to tell me what I should do while I’m visiting,” Susan lies.
“Oh, my favorite topic!” he says. His chair makes a horrible scraping noise on the concrete as he pulls it out. “Do you like to hike?”
After dinner, as they approach the house, Eliza says, “Do you need me to show you how to use the AC?”
“Sure,” Susan says, though she is pretty sure she could figure it out on her own.
The guesthouse feels even smaller with both of them in it. Eliza locates a remote control on the bookshelf while Susan stands awkwardly by the bed, unsure what to do with her arms.
“Here’s the on button,” Eliza says, handing it to her. “And the temperature control is those arrows.”
“Thanks,” Susan says.
There’s a long pause. Susan pretends to study the remote.
Finally, Eliza says, “For the record, it was that for me, too.”
Susan feels like she’s going to pass out. Instead, she says, “Just to clarify, you’re talking about sex?”
Eliza looks back toward the house guiltily, but then nods. “Yes, Susan. I’m talking about sex. What happened between us meant a lot to me.”
“You’d never know it, from the way you dumped me.”
Eliza frowns. “We were very young.”
“We were,” Susan agrees.
“I should get going,” Eliza says, glancing at the house again. “Good night, Susan. Let me know if you need anything.”
From bed, Susan texts Katie. “You’ll never guess where I am.”
But Katie doesn’t reply. It’s late in New York, anyway, and Katie probably doesn’t want to hear about Susan’s drama at 2 AM ET, even if she’s up with the baby. Susan turns her phone on silent and falls asleep so quickly that, in the morning, she barely remembers turning the lights out.
At Griffith Park the next morning, Susan struggles to keep up with Graham and Eliza, who bound up the dusty trail like gazelles.
“Come on, New York!” Eliza laughs. “Didn’t the subway stairs prepare you for this?”
“I’ve been sedentary for two years,” Susan says, trying to catch her breath.
Her eyes burn with sunscreen. She hates hiking.
The trail is crowded with people in matching athleisure sets and panting dogs fighting to keep up. The views are like nothing Susan has ever seen; sweeping panoramas of the city below and endless brown peaks dotted with green above.
When they get to the observatory at the top, she flops down on the grass. It feels cool and damp, healing against her burning back. Her mouth is dry, lips starting to peel in the relentless sun.
“Drink water,” Eliza says, pressing a sweating bottle into Susan’s hands.
She sits back up to drink it. “Thanks.” She wipes her mouth on her arm.
Around them, children are screaming with glee while their parents chase after them.
“This is nice, right?” Eliza asks Susan. “You’re having a good time with us, yeah?”
Susan wonders why Eliza needs this kind of validation, but she nods. “Yes. This is nice.”
It’s not, really. It’s hard and weird. But damn if she’s going to admit that.
Eliza and Graham are ready to resume before Susan is, but she’s too embarrassed about it to say so. She had no idea everyone was out here exercising and being fit while she was shuffling from her bed to her desk and back again.
“Isn’t it crazy how long we’ve known each other?” Eliza asks Susan on the way down. “Like, what, fifteen, sixteen years?”