Rich and Pretty(29)

Lauren has never known how to deal with a compliment and she’s never known how to deal with an apology. It seems better, in both instances, to change the subject. “I’m not. No, I was just . . . You know.”

“I didn’t mean to keep talking about Gabe,” Sarah says.

“I was in a bad mood,” Lauren says. It’s funny because now, hearing Sarah mention Gabe’s name, she feels nothing, not even a glimmer of recognition. They could be discussing anything at all. Maybe she had been in a bad mood.

“It’s a sensitive subject. I get it. You should have just told me to shut up, you idiot.” And now: back to normal.

“Please, like anyone ever in your entire life has ever told you to shut up, and like you would.” Lauren knows she loves this, the compliment disguised as an insult that Sarah is strong-willed, that Sarah will have her say. “How’s Dan?” Lauren often forgets to ask about him. The giant ring, though, reminds her.

“He’s good. He’s the same. He’s busy, he’s working a lot lately, like more than usual, but it’s good, like the good overworked, not the bad kind. How are your folks?”

“My folks? Um. They’re fine. It was my mom’s birthday two weeks ago. I got her a cookbook, one that we don’t even publish, which is so lame but my father insisted it was what she wanted. I don’t know if I believe him. Are you going on a honeymoon?”

“We talked about it. It’s hard for Dan to get a lot of time off. But everyone is like, oh you have to go on a honeymoon and so on.” She shrugs her shoulders.

“You’re probably going to want like . . . a vacation from your parents, right?” Lauren knows the intricacies of that family’s life well enough to be able to tease.

“Dan’s got to go to L.A. at some point for work; I thought maybe I could tag along on that and we could schedule a real honeymoon later. Like Africa maybe? Africa. That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“L.A., God that is so weird, I was just thinking about when we went out there after school, do you remember that?”

“Do I remember that, of course I remember that, what am I, brain damaged? Holly and Christina and that tiny little house.”

“You just wanted me to see Greg again, right? That was the ulterior motive.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, you’re the worst liar. Wait.” Lauren has an epiphany, a small one, if there’s a word for that. “This is just like that Gabe thing. From our last dinner.”

“I don’t know, I loved you guys together. And it’s not like there was so much awesome stuff going on for us here at that point in our lives.”

“The same stuff’s still going on though,” Lauren says, “all these years later.”

“That’s not true.” Sarah looks wounded by this.

The waiter returns, they order more drinks. Sarah asks for a salad and some fish. Lauren asks for a salad and some ravioli.

Sarah clears her throat. “Okay, maybe that was my secret agenda.”

“God, you are obsessed with me having a boyfriend.”

“Gabe was great. That’s all.” The final word.

“But, like, Greg?” Lauren laughs. “I mean, what was I supposed to do—marry him? They even have the same name. Gabe, Greg. God, what’s wrong with me?” Sarah has only ever had Dan. Maybe she fundamentally doesn’t understand that it’s possible to have a boyfriend you don’t mean to marry, to f*ck a guy and not have it mean forever.

“You could have married Greg.” Sarah is drunk now, and her gestures have gotten bigger. She points accusingly, hilariously, at Lauren across the table.

“Please, the idea that I could have married the skinny guy from Art History is ridiculous. Even if that is, let’s be honest, how most college romances turn into failed first marriages.”

“You make it sound like it was so unserious,” Sarah says. “He met your parents.”

“Once, Miss Marple.” How does Sarah remember these things? “We were kids!”

“People do that, you know, Lauren. People marry the people they met in college. It’s not as ridiculous or out of the question as you’d like to pretend.”

“You’re my life partner,” Lauren says. She reaches across the table and drapes an affectionate hand over Sarah’s. She’s tipsy, but it’s not a lie. She cannot imagine sitting in this restaurant across from Gabe or Greg, not the way she can imagine sitting here now with Sarah, or a year from now, with Sarah, or ten years from now, with Sarah.

“People gave up lesbianism at graduation, however.”

“Speaking of lesbians, I saw Jill. Shit, Jill what’s her name? With the twin brother?” Now she’s drunk, too.

“Jill Hansen? You saw Jill Hansen? And she’s a lesbian?”

“No, just her haircut. But her brother is gay.”

“Of course he’s gay; remember junior year he gave that presentation on Giovanni’s Room?”

“No, how do you remember this shit?”

“I take my vitamins. Where did you see Jill Hansen?”

“She’s my neighbor. Married, moved here, I can’t remember all the details. She asked about you. She gave me her number but I mean . . . am I supposed to call her? It seems very bizarre.”