Chapter 7
I t was Saturday again, the night that the manager was due back from the beach.
But instead of going to the cinema as planned, Drake dragged Ellie to their friends’ house deep in the suburbs for Scrabble.
Hours had passed since they’d first sat on the corduroy sectional set Jen found at a furniture warehouse.
“It’s affordable,” she’d gushed, “and comfy, too.” The knot forming in Ellie’s back was proof that only the first part was true.
“ Vex ,” Marc announced at the start of the game. He’d laid down his tiles almost instantly, but that was classic Marc—quick to show his cards or his feelings. He’d been that way in all the years Ellie had known him.
The last ten years . It was hard for Ellie to believe that Jen and Marc had been together that long.
She could still remember the night they met at the tiki bar—layers of dark rum, frozen pineapple whirling inside blenders, and chatty mechanical parrots swinging overhead.
Jen had bumped right into Marc while he carried a fishbowl drink to his friends.
He’d spilled only a little, but she insisted on buying him a new one.
Marc told her, within minutes, that he’d never met anyone like her.
That brief encounter had led to this: Jen and Marc having a home together and a baby on the way.
It always amazed Ellie how one tiny choice, one tiki drink, could change a life.
Jen tossed a cozy wrap over her maternity yoga set and kicked her platform indoor slippers up onto the matching ottoman.
The slippers were one of the many free samples she was given as the marketing director of an eco-friendly footwear line.
They were silly-looking, she admitted earlier that night, but it wouldn’t be very eco-friendly to throw away a free sample.
Jen leaned closer to the board to inspect Marc’s word. “ Vex ?” she asked. Her right eye twitched. It was always the sweet ones who treated board games like Olympic Qualifiers. “Seriously?”
Yes , vex, Ellie thought to herself. To cause distress .
Vex, what Drake was doing to her now, putting up obstacles to avoid the thing Ellie needed most. She’d even scrawled the cinema visit on the calendar of cats floating through space that held his schedule.
That morning, Ellie noticed Drake had made one of his own additions beneath a Ragdoll cat cartwheeling through the Big Dipper.
Game Night!
Ellie wanted to press the issue. But with Drake’s resistance, she needed to be strategic. She had to wait for her moment.
“ Vex is a real word,” Ellie said, directly to Drake. He missed the barb.
“Well, wine is a word, too.” Jen chimed in. She borrowed the first e from Ellie’s ephemeral to spell out w-i-n-e , then pushed herself to stand, fighting against the wobbles of the third trimester. “Speaking of, let’s pour some. I’m going to drink vicariously through all of you.”
“I’d love a glass,” Drake said, sinking deeper into the couch. He was so carefree here, in the land of layered rugs and a fourwick Harvest Apple candle. “I could use a little liquid inspiration for this next round.”
“I’ll come with you,” Ellie told Jen. She could sense the conversation heading toward another question-and-answer session between Marc and Drake about plumbing or backsplash tile.
Drake was an expert in the finishes of these types of homes, despite his total aversion to working for a planned community.
“I feel like I’m going to fly away,” Jen said.
She steadied herself on Ellie’s arm. “Like a hot-air balloon.” Jen swung the door to the kitchen open.
Everything still had the new-house smell that clung to Drake’s clothes after a day at work.
Ellie missed when Jen and Marc lived a short drive away in a two-bedroom apartment with a rooftop pool and a neighbor who was always barbecuing something that shouldn’t be barbecued in the common area.
When Jen brought Ellie here for the first time and chauffeured her around the pristine suburban streets with a borrowed golf cart, it was hard to accept that this was her friend’s new life.
“I can’t believe I forgot vex ,” Jen confided behind the kitchen counter. “Of course, vex . Like, Marc vexed me by forgetting to pick up snacks. He drove past the grocery store without grabbing guac. I swear, things were getting Shakespearian before you came over.”
The clock on the kitchen oven was screaming at Ellie. 10:50 , it bellowed. They could still make it to the cinema in time. Therein lay the beauty of a midnight movie.
“It’s late,” Ellie said as three wineglasses clicked onto the granite kitchen island.
She offered an exaggerated yawn to drive home her point.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to go?” Ellie hoped that her best friend would kick her out of her house.
Her best friend. These were her friends—Drake’s friends now, too, of course—but Ellie had known them first. She was being petty.
The house, the Scrabble, the vexing. She loved Jen and normally wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Tonight was the exception.
“Oh heck, no,” Jen said. “I slept all day. I’m—well we’re— ready to party.”
Ellie nodded and tried to get comfortable on a leather farmhouse stool that kept chiropractors in business.
There was that critical voice again. The cinema was making her desperate, moody.
Jen reached for a baguette and a butter dish engraved with two bears holding hands.
“I guess we’ll have bread. There aren’t any snacks, so this is the next best thing.
I’m the one who has to carry a baby. How hard is it to procure carbohydrates?
It seems not that hard. Anyway, I’m blabbering, Ellie.
I am blabbering because I have no updates.
” She was playing with her hair too much, a tell that she was working something out.
“All people want to know about lately is if I’m having ginger chews. ”
“Ginger chews?” Ellie asked.
“They’re supposed to help with all the stomach stuff in pregnancy.”
“Do they?”
“Shit, no.” Jen put her hand on her stomach. “Sorry,” she whispered. The apology was for the baby. “Also, everybody asks how are you all the time. Just how are you , in text form. I’ve run out of things to share. I love talking about baby stuff. I do. I just miss having actual stories to tell.”
Ellie fished around for a response. All the baby talk made her pour more wine in her glass before she was even a few sips in.
Drake wanted kids; he always stopped to talk to babies at restaurants.
He’d make an amazing dad, Ellie knew. She was worried about herself.
Kids were a great idea for someday, but the longer she waited, that someday became imminent.
Someday was a frightening knock on the door, a pest control person with a special onetime offer or one of those high school kids wrapped up in a magazine scam.
Ellie was terrified to answer the knock.
Was she capable, after everything that had happened, of being responsible? Of being someone’s mom?
“Please tell me something good,” Jen begged. “Tell me about dancing on bar tops.”
“Which bar top?”
“Any of them, dude. We used to be wild.”
“Used to,” Ellie said. “Life’s different now.”
“Yeah.” Jen sighed. “I miss it. Our antics. Your myriad of suitors. That’s a good Scrabble word, isn’t it? Myriad .”
“There weren’t that many suitors.”
“Oh please. You collected suitors like I collected Dooney & Bourke knockoffs.”
Ellie glanced at the time. It was 10:55 .
They were thirty minutes away from the bottom of the alley, which meant Ellie needed to start wrapping things up and get Drake out the door.
Because, if not tonight, when? Because who knew how long a magical theater would stand for?
Because what if Ellie somehow missed the exact thing she was desperate to see? “Do you ever just …”
“What?” Jen leaned forward, ready to nosh on any gossip or secret served up.
“Do you ever wish you could relive your past? Not just talk about it, but actually go back in time and witness the person you were?”
Jen bit her lip. “You seem kind of serious tonight. Is something going on, Ellie?”
Ellie considered shading in the rest of her thoughts.
She shared everything with Jen, but she knew she couldn’t admit where her head was at that moment.
There’s this magical theater , she would begin.
Even for someone whose bedroom bookshelf was lined with smoldering adult fairy tales, there was only so far that a person’s imagination could carry them.
Jen would have to see the cinema to believe it.
Suddenly, an idea struck Ellie. What if Jen did see it?
Drake would be furious. But having their friends come along would give them even more backup.
Marc and Drake could parse through facts together.
Maybe the extra company would make Drake feel more secure.
The four of them could connect over this for the rest of their lives, beyond Connect 4. Conversations would always cut deeper.
Ellie tore off a bite of the bread. She spent forever chewing, then grabbed her wine to wash it down, wine she could quickly feel coming back up her nose.
“What is so funny?” Jen asked.
“The bread … It’s so hard.” Ellie laughed. “I think I broke a tooth.”
Jen grabbed a piece and crunched down. “This is terrible.” She rubbed the side of her jaw. “We’ve got seriously stale bread. We’ve got bad games. I think I hate Scrabble.”
“Me, too,” Ellie agreed. “And I’m the target audience.”
Jen spun the bear butter holder around. “Right now, I would give just about anything to do something different.” She was begging for an adventure.
There might be consequences, Ellie knew.
Marc, practical as he was, might further convince Drake that the whole thing was dangerous.
Jen might actually inflate and blow away out of pure shock.
But the good that could come was bigger, she decided.
Jen needed an adventure almost as much as Ellie needed the truth.
“Let’s go out,” she heard herself saying.
“Tonight?” Jen asked. She snapped her fingers and pointed them in Ellie’s direction. “Hmmm … I don’t know. I’ve got Dateline to catch up on.”
“What happened to your need for a good story?”
Jen cracked a smile. She fanned her hands out under her face in mock mischief. “What did you have in mind, Miss Ellie?”
“Well, I know a place,” Ellie told her. “A place that outdoes dancing on any bar top.”