Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Hannah had an inspired turn getting her team to quickly guess the song “Shallow” by skipping the word entirely and doing the Lady Gaga nose gesture from the movie. Even on the opposite team, Mike was so proud he squeezed Hannah’s face for a smooch.
One of Mike’s guy friends put his foot in it trying to convey Rosemary’s Baby by pointing repeatedly at Hannah’s belly and making devil horns, especially uncomfortable because people kept guessing farm animals.
Then it was Madison’s turn. She reached into the bowl and pulled out a piece of folded paper. She frowned at it. “I don’t know this one.”
“Can you just act out the words?” someone asked.
“I don’t even know what category it is. I’ve literally never heard of it. Can I pass?”
“Yeah, she can pass,” Ben chimed in.
Madison put it back in the box.
“Well, don’t put it back,” Mike interjected. “Because now you’ve seen it, so no one else on your team can use it. So kill it and pull another one. And guys, I thought we knew better than to do esoteric ones.”
“What was it?”
Madison read out with deep skepticism, “As I Lay Dying”?
“It’s a book,” Ben said gently. “I haven’t read it.”
“Oh.” Madison tucked her flaxen hair behind her ear. “Where’s my drink?”
Mike’s lawyer friend Priyanka raised her hand. “Sorry, my bad. I thought it would be an easy title to act out.”
“Don’t worry, Mad, just take another,” Ben said.
Madison pulled another prompt and brightened immediately. “Ooh, yes, okay, I totally got this one.”
Mike put up his hands. “Say no more! Don’t give it away. Chris, ready with the timer?”
Madison gave the movie gesture, which they all shouted out.
Then without warning, she dropped to the floor in a full split.
Tanned, toned legs stretched out as flat as a Barbie doll’s, her denim cutoffs biting into her ass cheeks, their cotton fringe like strings on a cut of meat.
She put her hands on her hips and flashed a megawatt smile.
“Holy shit,” whispered the guy next to Iris.
“Oh, oh, that Shyamalan movie… Split !” Hannah guessed.
Madison shook her head, still grinning, and threw her arms in the air, waving her hands and shimmying her shoulders.
“Damn, I thought I had it.” Hannah pouted. “What else with a split personality?… Me, Myself, and Irene? ”
Madison beckoned with an aggressive gesture toward her chest, bouncing her breasts.
“C’mon guys, what else?” Hannah said.
“Sorry, lost my train of thought,” a guy joked.
“I’m definitely thinking things, but I can’t say them out loud!” said another.
“Can you do anything different?” asked another woman.
“What was that one with Demi Moore called?”
“Hustlers!”
“How many words?”
Madison held up three fingers.
“ Drop Dead Gorgeous ,” Mike guessed.
“You’re not even on her team,” chided Hannah.
Madison laughed and shook her head again.
Iris looked at Madison with envy: her perfect ass, without a dimple of cellulite, not even a goose pimple, just smooth, tan skin.
Her stomach that didn’t pouch or roll. Every sign of youth and sex on display without self-consciousness, Madison owned it.
Iris felt so dissociated from her body, like it was a shell she was stuck inside, an intractable adversary that she must battle into submission, to shrink, to tighten, and to resist the powers of hunger, gravity, and time.
That is, until she got the perfume.
But then Iris looked at the other party guests watching Madison.
The men leaning forward with too keen an interest, their hungry gazes glued to her from the neck down, teeth bared in grins.
From the women’s body language, Madison was making few friends among them.
Iris scanned the women on the opposite couch, sitting way back, arms crossed over stomachs, raised eyebrows, the exchange of glances.
Yes, it was jealousy, but more, it was judgment.
Their eyes said that this girl was taking too much pleasure in excelling at the game that held us all back. They saw a try-hard. A pick-me. A slu—
The buzzer went off; time was up.
Madison threw up her hands. “ You guys, it was Bring It On .”
There was a collective groan.
“Why didn’t you…” one of the wives began. “Never mind. That was impressive.”
“Thanks, I cheered at FSU.”
“She went to college, that’s something,” Hannah whispered.
Iris elbowed her. She was actually feeling sorry for Madison. Until she caught Ben wink at her and Madison scrunch her button nose in response.
Mike shook Iris out of thought. “All right, Iris, your turn.”
Iris knew it would be a hard one as soon as she read the prompt.
It wasn’t currently popular, included an unusual proper name, and it had a tough first word to act out.
She got the group to TV show, three words, second word, and effectively pantomimed a telephone so they got “call,” but then her team was stuck.
Time was ticking. But she had a last resort.
Iris made direct eye contact with Ben, pointed at the lower right-hand side of her abdomen, and buckled in imaginary agony.
“Pain? ER ? Grey’s Anatomy ?” someone said.
Maintaining eye contact with Ben, she pantomimed clicking a remote control, then smiled in relief.
Ben jumped to his feet. “Better Call Saul!”
“Yes!” Iris cried, and they clasped hands in a double high-five.
“What the eff, how did you get that from that ?” someone asked.
“When I was recovering from appendicitis, we binged that show,” Iris explained.
Mike’s friend Justin on the other team threw up his hands. “This is why couples can’t be on the same team.”
“We aren’t a couple,” Iris and Ben said in unison.
Mike clapped. “I’ll allow it! The kick is good. Next up…”
Iris sat down with some remorse for throwing her history with Ben in Madison’s face. But she couldn’t deny the sweet taste of victory.
In her peripheral vision, Iris only noticed the blond blur of Madison’s head thrusting forward. She didn’t register what was happening until she felt the girl’s warm, wet puke splash on her feet.
And smelled the sour odor of salsa, oaky-sweet liquor, and muddled mint.
For the second time that night, Madison elicited a spontaneous “Holy shit” from the crowd.
“I’m gonna be sick.” Hannah sprang from the couch, her pregnancy gag reflex on a hair trigger.
“Omigod, I’m so sorry.” Madison covered her mouth. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Uh, I think Han just went to the near one, but there’s another in our bedroom,” Mike began.
“I’ll show her.” Iris rose from her seat, feeling chunks squeeze between her toes as her weight shifted in her wedges. “We can both clean up.”
—
Hannah and Mike’s bathroom had a small lavender-scented votive on the vanity, which Iris lit as soon as they entered, hoping the herbal scent would cancel out the smell of vomit.
“This is so not like me.” Madison said miserably from the floor as she flushed the second round down the toilet. “I’m so embarrassed I could die.”
“Don’t be. It happens. Mike makes those drinks too strong.”
“I’ll pay for your shoes. Are they the Chloés? I have the same ones. I’ll Venmo you four hundred dollars.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” Iris didn’t want to tell this girl ten years her junior that they were cheap knock-offs.
Iris helped Madison up and to the sink. “They must have some mouthwash in here.” She used her old-friend privilege to rifle through Hannah’s medicine chest, and handed a bottle of Listerine to Madison.
“You’re so nice.” Madison swished and spat into the sink. “I didn’t want us to come tonight, I’m no-contact with exes. I was nervous to meet you.” Madison wiped her mouth. “But I liked you as soon as we met. I think it’s cool that you and Ben are friends. Says a lot about you both.”
Iris felt too unworthy of the compliment to respond with anything but a smile.
Madison fixed her hair in the mirror. “It makes me feel even better about him. If I dated one more fuckboy, I was gonna go crazy. I’m in wifey era.”
“Pass me the Listerine?” Iris had a bad taste in her mouth.
—
Iris and Madison returned to the living room, Iris in bare feet, and although Madison had cleaned up better than most, she was ready to go home. The party was winding down, guests were calling Ubers.
Puke has a way of ending a night.
As the group was saying their goodbyes, Ben and Iris stepped aside to have a semiprivate moment.
“It was good seeing you,” Ben said. “Thanks for being so cool to Madison even when she barfed on you.”
She nodded fake-sagely. “That was pretty cool of me.”
He snorted.
“What?”
“You know, this whole night I’ve been trying to figure out what’s different about you.
” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Then you got that text, and I got it.” He leaned close to her, the closest he had been all night, and she breathed in his familiar scent, making her heart twist. He whispered, “You’re in love. ”
“That’s not it.”
He smirked at her. “Oh- kay . Well, I’m happy for us both.” He hugged her, and as he broke from the embrace, added, “You deserve it.”
As Ben and Madison were walking out, hand in hand, Madison pointed at the vintage mirror in Hannah’s entryway. “See, babe, that’s what I want for our new place.”
“New place?” Hannah raised her eyebrows.
“Yes! We’re moving to Battery Park City, so we’ll be neighbors!”
They were moving in together—already? And just like that, any illusion that Iris had the upper hand evaporated.
—
After all the guests had left, Iris stayed behind to help clean up. She found Hannah slumped over the arm of the couch, asleep with her mouth open. When she placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her friend snorted awake.
“I’m up, I’m up!” Her face was creased from a throw pillow, a spot of drool shining on the corner of her mouth.
“Let me take you to bed.” Iris helped her up from the couch.
“Mike shouldn’t have to clean up his own party.”
“I’ve got it, you need to get some rest.”
“I can’t believe I fell asleep at a party, and I’m not even drunk!”
“You’re partying for two.”
Hannah took hold of Iris’s arm. “If I’m this tired now, what am I going to do when the baby gets here?”
“You’re going to wake Mike up to handle it. And other times, you’re going to call me.”
Hannah smiled sleepily and mouthed “Love you,” which Iris reciprocated, and they hugged.
“I’m putting you to bed, and I’m also gonna borrow a pair of your shoes.”
—
Iris was loading the dishwasher when Mike came into the kitchen holding a big trash bag.
“How was it with Ben tonight?”
Iris shrugged. “Ah, you know.”
“New girl’s got nothing on you.”
“Not if we’re talking age or weight class.”
“I think you played it really classy. Being hot and unbothered is the flex.”
“Thanks.” She scraped the remainder of the guacamole into the trash and rinsed the dish.
“And I’m glad you came.”
“Of course.” Iris was bending over to load the dishwasher when she felt a sudden tug on the back of her dress, and the neckline newly loosened. She clutched the dress tightly against her chest to keep it up. “Mike!” She gave a laugh, not because it was funny, but because it was awkward.
Mike cracked up. “I’m sorry, it was there, I had to! C’mere, I’ll fix it.” He beckoned her toward him.
She turned her back to him so he could make it right—the dress and the air between them.
His fingers brushed the top of her spine as he retied the strings. “It’s a sexy dress. Did you wear it for Ben?”
Something in his tone of voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “No,” she replied.
His hands slipped from the nape of her neck to her shoulders and he whispered, “Then is it my birthday present?” Gripping her shoulders, he spun her to face him, and in an instant his mouth was on hers.
Mike was kissing her, pressing her against the counter, and for a moment she was too stunned to react, and then—
“Ow!” Mike clutched his ear in surprise. “You hit me!”
“You kissed me!” Iris was confused to find herself on the defensive.
She felt scattered and out of breath. It was out of character for Mike, but even more for her.
She had never hit anyone in her life; she had acted on pure instinct.
But she had hit him, hard. “Why did you do that? What about Hannah ?” she hissed.
“She’s asleep.”
“ So? That’s not the point!”
“No, I know, that’s not what I meant.” He swore and shook his head. “I dunno, something came over me.”
“She’s my best friend, we were just in your nursery, are you fucking kidding me?” Iris felt her throat tighten with emotion.
“Stop, c’mon.” Mike leaned against the sink counter and looked at Iris like she was exasperating. “You really think I’d cheat on my pregnant wife?”
Iris stared at him in disbelief.
“Look, I won’t tell her if you won’t,” he said.
Fresh anger steadied her. “We’re not in cahoots . I wanted no part of this.”
Mike rubbed his face. “Let’s just forget it. It was a drunken moment at the end of a long night. Party foul. Okay? My bad. Sorry.”
She threw the dish towel on the counter. “I’m going home. Clean your own damn mess.”
—
Iris waited impatiently for the elevator to arrive, her thoughts a jumbled mess, but all that came through clearly was This is bad .
Bad for Hannah. Bad for their friendship.
Bad for her marriage. Bad for the family Hannah was building.
How could Mike throw that into peril? How could he be so reckless and cruel to involve Iris in the betrayal of her best friend?
She had known Mike for years, they’d always gotten along well, and Mike had never been inappropriate with her, not even close.
Now she felt she didn’t know him at all.
And she certainly couldn’t trust him. What did not trusting him mean for telling Hannah?
She could imagine how he might spin it: poor lonely Iris, dumped by Ben, a pincushion for fertility treatments, and all while Hannah and Mike were happily preparing for baby-makes-three.
An act of jealousy, sabotage. This nightmare hypothetical had potency, because one part of the lie rang true—Iris wanted what Hannah had.
But not like this. Never in a million years. Iris would never do anything that could hurt Hannah. Hannah was family.
But Hannah had her own family, a growing one, with Mike. She was eight months pregnant and freshly unemployed. If Hannah had to make a choice of whom to believe, whom would she choose?
The elevator paused on the third floor, and a woman in pajama pants entered with a black-and-white Chihuahua on a rhinestone leash.
Not even the cute dog could break through Iris’s spiraling.
Not until the woman asked her a question: “Excuse me. Can I ask what perfume you’re wearing? You smell amazing.”
“My perfume—”
The woman waited politely, then perplexed, for Iris to finish her thought, and when the elevator landed on the ground floor, she exited quickly. The tapping of the dog’s nails receded in the marble lobby.
Iris remained in place, unable to move.