Girls in White Dresses - JENNIFER CLOSE [69]
Her friends tried to cheer her up. “Come on,” they said. “Come out. Forget about Dan.” But Shannon refused.
“You know,” Lauren said, “you were too good for him anyway.”
“That’s just something people say,” Shannon said.
“Shannon,” Lauren said, “the guy wore two BlackBerrys on his belt. He wasn’t perfect.” But this only made Shannon cry.
In her darkest moments, Shannon wished it had gone another way. Lying in bed at night, with her head under the covers, she wished that the Candidate had lost. She never admitted this to anyone, and she wasn’t sure that she really meant it. But maybe she did. She felt reckless when she had these late-night thoughts. She was a lifetime Democrat and here she was wishing that the Republicans had squeaked out another one. Sometimes she laughed by herself, feeling giddy, the same way she’d felt when she’d stolen a candy bar in the fourth grade. How ashamed her parents would have been if they’d known. How ashamed she was of herself when she looked in the mirror in the morning.
She thought of calling Dan just so she could say, “I wish he’d lost,” and then hanging up. But she couldn’t do it. She was afraid it would only reaffirm his belief that he was right to choose the Candidate over her, that it was the smartest thing he’d ever done.
Shannon wished that she were a stronger person, a more selfless soul that would be happy to put the needs of her country ahead of her own. But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was nothing more than a weak and selfish brat who wanted what she wanted. Oh yes, she was ashamed.
She started watching a lot of reality TV. She watched it for hours at a time, surprised when she looked up at the clock and found that a whole day had slipped by. It soothed her to see people eat bugs and search for love in rose ceremonies. It gave her peace.
Shannon used to judge people who watched these shows, this trash TV. Now it was all she could stand to do. She watched whatever was on—dysfunctional famous families, snotty teenagers at reform camp, even a couple with a litter of in vitro babies that squabbled and screamed. But her favorite one of all, the one she waited all week to watch, was a weight-loss show where morbidly obese people were sent to a ranch and forced to exercise and starve themselves to a healthy weight.
These people cried and fought. They fell down on the gym floor and begged not to be sent home. They tried to undo all of the bad choices they’d made. Shannon watched in her bed, curled up under the blankets, bawling at the big people as they struggled to break out of their giant bodies. She wept along with them as they ran on treadmills and lifted weights. She cried for their struggle and the goals they wanted to reach. She understood them, after all. All they wanted was a new beginning. All they wanted was some hope.
Isabella and Harrison were going to Boston. Harrison wanted to get on the road early, and set the alarm clock for five a.m. “This isn’t early,” Isabella told him when the alarm clock started buzzing. “It’s the middle of the night.” All morning, Harrison told Isabella to hurry, which made her want to get back into bed. Finally, at eight-fifteen, they were in the car and heading out of the city. Isabella asked if they could stop for coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts and Harrison wrinkled his nose and said, “Dunkin’ Donuts? Really?” But he pulled over and went inside to get it for her.
“Here,” he said, handing her the big Styrofoam cup. He sniffed.
“You don’t want any?” she asked.
“I’ll wait,” he said.
They were going to Boston to see Harrison’s friends Brinkley and Coco. Brinkley and Coco had had a baby a few months ago and kept insisting that they come visit. Isabella had heard the names Brinkley and Coco so much during the past week, she’d thought it was going to push her over the edge. All of Harrison’s friends had names that reminded her of cartoon animals. These names used to be funny to Isabella. Now they were just annoying.
“What’s the baby’s name again?” she asked, even though she knew.