Girls in White Dresses - JENNIFER CLOSE [82]
Isabella had been one of Beth’s bridesmaids, and she remembered how Beth was so bloated the day of the wedding that her dress wouldn’t zip. Isabella had known Beth for twelve years, and for ten of those years, she’d been with Kyle.
“I’m moving into the city,” Beth said when she called Isabella.
“Oh,” Isabella said. “Great. What about the house?”
“We’re selling it. Didn’t Lauren tell you? I asked her for some real estate advice and she recommended someone to us. I’m getting out of this godforsaken suburb. We can hang out all the time!”
“Great,” Isabella said. “Great.”
Friday, Isabella’s boss asked her to type up some notes. It was a job Isabella used to do when she was Snowy’s assistant, but she’d been promoted to assistant editor over a year ago. So when Snowy walked by and dumped notes on Isabella’s desk, she was thrown. Was she being demoted or had she imagined her promotion in the first place? Had time gone backward? She stared at the notes for a while, and then put them in a neat little pile in the corner of her desk.
“Did you know that Snowy asked me to type up her notes?” Isabella asked Cate.
“She does the same thing to me,” Cate said.
“Doesn’t she know that she has two new assistants?” Isabella asked, and Cate shrugged.
“Probably not,” she said. “The woman is bat-shit crazy. Plus,” she said lowering her voice, “I heard she’s worried about her job.”
“Isn’t everybody?” Isabella asked.
Cave Publishing was in trouble. The CFO had been sending around e-mails that referenced the economy in vague terms. He used words like “cutbacks” and “accommodations,” but no one knew what he was trying to say. Cate was convinced that they would all be fired soon.
“It’s just a matter of time,” she kept saying to Isabella. “Make sure you have money saved. This shitbox of a company probably won’t even give us decent severance.”
By the time Isabella made it to the subway station on Friday, she felt defeated. It was so hot that she was sure she was going to melt. “Jesus is coming,” the voice said. Isabella wiped the sweat off her forehead. She thought she might faint.
Isabella went home, turned on the air conditioner, and lay down on the bed. Maybe, she thought, things just seemed worse because of the heat. It always made people agitated when it got this hot—the air seemed to stick in the middle of the buildings and that made it hard to breathe. There was no such thing as a breeze in New York, and the whole city started to smell like garbage. That’s all it was, she decided. The weather. She tried to stay completely still. The air conditioner whirred in the window. Soon the sweat started to evaporate and she started to feel better. Harrison was away on a business trip for a few days. Isabella decided that she would order Thai food for dinner and stay in. She might feel better for now, but it was safer to stay in the apartment. No sense in going out.
Isabella’s left side hurt. It started in her shoulder, then moved up to her jaw and down to her leg. She complained for a month, until Harrison told her she had to go to the doctor. “I mean, it’s probably an advanced tumor,” she said to Harrison. “What can they do for that?”
“I promise, it’s not a tumor,” Harrison told her. She knew he had no authority to make such a promise.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go to a chiropractor.”
“You have a mean case of TMJ,” the chiropractor told her. “You’re carrying a lot of stress on this side. Your alignment is all off.”
“So what can I do?” Isabella asked.
“I’ll show you some stretching exercises. And you should get a mouth guard to stop clenching your jaw at night. You can come back and see me. But what you really need to do is lower your stress level.”
“Oh,” Isabella said. “That’s all? Thanks.”
“You should take yoga,” Mary told her. “It will relax you.”
Isabella went to hot yoga, which turned out to be a horrible mistake. The room was a hundred degrees, and Isabella could barely breathe. “You may feel nauseous or faint during class,” the instructor told everyone. “This is normal. This is a normal reaction. Just work through