Something Blue - Emily Giffin [56]
"Of course you will date," she said, pumping one fist in the air. But no further mention of my Jewish Prince Charming.
"Do you think Josh will mind?" I asked.
More nervous laughter. "Mind that you're pregnant?"
"Yeah. Mind that I'm pregnant?"
"Well, I… I'm not sure… I don't know him that well."
It was perfectly clear that she was quite sure that Josh would mind very much indeed. About as much as she would mind living with me and a newborn. She downed the rest of her margarita, chattering about how excited the girls in our office would be. Could she tell them? Was it public knowledge yet?
I said no, not yet, I wasn't quite ready for the world to know.
"I understand. Mum's the word," Claire said, pinching her lips between thumb and index finger. She giggled. "No pun intended."
I insisted that I wasn't ashamed of my pregnancy. It wasn't that at all. I babbled about how I would maintain my sense of self, referencing Rachel on Friends and Miranda on Sex and the City. Both women had managed to keep their lives and looks intact while embracing single motherhood. I saw no reason why I couldn't do the same.
"Oh, I know," Claire said in a condescending tone. "There's no reason you can't do it all, have it all. Be a modern woman!"
As I studied her big, fake smile, the exact contours of our shallow friendship came into focus. Sure, Claire liked me, but she liked me because I was fun to go out with and because I was a guy magnet, even when I had worn my engagement ring from Dex. She liked me because I was an invaluable asset. With her pedigree and my looks and personality, we had been unstoppable. The glamorous PR duo everyone either knew or wanted to know.
But in the time it took to down a margarita, my stock had plummeted in her eyes. I had been transformed into nothing but a struggling single mother. I might as well have had curlers in my hair and a welfare check in my callused hand. I was of no use to her anymore.
As she finished her drink, she eyed mine. "Well? May I?" she asked.
"Go ahead," I said.
She took a few sips from my glass and then glanced at her watch. "Oh, shoot. Look at the time!"
"Did you have to be somewhere?" I asked. Usually it was impossible to shake Claire.
"Yes," she said. "I told Jocelyn I'd give her a call. She wants to go out tonight. Didn't I mention that?"
"No," I said. "You didn't mention that."
Claire smiled tightly and said, "Yeah. Dinner and a few drinks. Of course, you can come if you want. Even though you can't drink. We'd love your company."
Claire was offering me, Darcy Rhone, a charity invite. I was tempted to go, to prove that I could still be fun. But I was too indignant to accept the invitation so easily. So I told her no, that I had some phone calls to return. I waited for a little coaxing, but she just stood, carried her glass over to the sink, swung her Prada bag over her shoulder, and said with all the cheeriness in the world, "All righty then, hon… Congratulations again. Have a great night. You take good care of yourself, okay?"
Needless to say the next week passed and Claire never mentioned moving in with me again. Instead, I heard from another girl in our office that Claire and Jocelyn were apartment-hunting in the Village. I also heard from Jocelyn herself, in the office restroom after her postlunchtime purge, that she had met a great guy—Josh Levine—did I know him? It was the final straw, the salt in rny open, bleeding, infected wound. Even dependent and doting Claire had joined the ranks and betrayed me. I hurried back to my office, stunned and teary, my mind racing about what to do next. Without even fully thinking it through, I found myself propelled down the hall to Cal's office, where I informed my boss that I needed to take a leave of absence, effective immediately. I told him I was having some personal issues. He asked if there were anything he could do. I said no, I just needed some time away. He told me they were overstaffed these days, anyway, and the economy was socking the PR business