All Adults Here(80)

Porter slid off his body so that they were sitting next to each other. “I’ve been sleeping with Jeremy Fogelman. Again.”

“Again? Yeesh.”

Porter grabbed a pillow and covered her face. “I know. It’s beyond stupid. But I think I had to just get it out of my system for good. Put childish things behind me.”

“It’s okay,” Nicky said. He put a hand on her shoulder. “We all make mistakes. I won’t tell her.” He nodded toward Porter’s belly.





Chapter 35





And Then There Were Three



Elliot came downstairs in workout pants and a wrinkled, untucked dress shirt, clearly the first two pieces of clothing he put his hands on in the blackout-curtained void of his bedroom. Nicky had kept Porter from honking the horn when it took Elliot more than the three minutes he’d promised to emerge from his front door. It was late—everyone else was asleep. But Porter didn’t care. She didn’t even care that when they did drive to Buddy’s, the only local bar that was open late, she wouldn’t be able to have more than a few surreptitious sips of her brothers’ drinks. The only thing that Porter cared about was that for tonight, and maybe only tonight, she had her baby brother all to herself, if you didn’t count her big brother too.

Elliot shivered on the front step for a minute, blinking at the car, as if he couldn’t remember who had texted him sixteen times to tell him that his attendance was mandatory. Nicky rolled down the passenger window and waved. “All aboard, old boy,” he said. Elliot jogged over and slid his body across the back seat until he was sitting in the center, with one hand cupping each front seat.

“When did you get in?” Elliot asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Were you asleep?” Porter asked. “What are you, nine?” She was usually asleep by then, too, of course.

“A few hours ago. I was trying to surprise our pregnant sister, but she wasn’t home, so I surprised myself with a little catnap on her couch.” Nicky reached over and put his hand on top of Elliot’s. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, man.”

“Oh my god, El, you’re overflowing with love, I can hardly take it,” Porter said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s get some drinks in you two and see if I can get drunk just by dipping my pinkies in your beers.”

“Fermentation is good for you,” Nicky said. “A beer wouldn’t hurt. Certain beers are actually great for lactation. You need those enzymes.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Porter said. “Finally, some familial support.”



* * *



—

Buddy’s always looked closed, despite the large neon sign outside. It was on the bottom floor of a large building, down three shallow steps from street level, sunless and dank at all hours of the day. That was the appeal. The three Strick siblings jostled one another through the narrow door and to a booth at the back of the room.

“This place hasn’t changed at all,” Nicky said. He made a small stack of damp coasters, a tiny Andy Goldsworthy tower that would crumble with time and moisture. Porter rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her belly bumped up against the edge of the table.

“Cecelia’s been babysitting for us,” Elliot said. His voice boomed, as if he needed to shout over loud music that only he could hear. He sat on the opposite side of the booth. Porter couldn’t imagine putting her head on her older brother’s shoulder. He was more like Astrid, with an invisible electric fence surrounding his body. Neither of them invited touch. Not like Nicky, who Porter had held in her arms when he was one day old, still soft all over, with no neck to speak of. He was a born cuddler.

“That’s great, that’s great,” Nicky said. He petted Porter’s hair. “God, I miss her. It seemed like the easiest thing to do, to send her up to Astrid, but now I don’t know. It’s so fucking hard to know if you’re making the right decision.”

Elliot put his hands on the table and pushed himself back up. “Well, if you want to talk about questionable parenting decisions, we’ll be here all night. I’ll get the first round.”

“Seltzer water for me, please,” Porter said, to his back, which Elliot acknowledged with a thumbs-up. “He’s so annoying,” she said to Nicky, though Elliot hadn’t done anything. She was always ready to be annoyed by him.

“So you think Cece is doing okay?” Nicky asked.

It felt so nice to have him back, even just for a little while. Nicky had been her perfect doll, her laughing and cooing toy. She’d always wanted to bring him in for show-and-tell, as if he could just sit quietly in her preschool cubby for the rest of the day.

“She’s great, Nicky. She really is. I don’t know exactly what happened in school this week, but I think she kind of turned into a superhero. I think it’s good, I do.” She squeezed his arm. “I don’t think you have to worry about her. She’s such a good kid. Like, a good kid. Way better than any of us.”

“Hey!” Nicky said, pretending to be offended. Elliot came back, holding three glasses in a well-practiced drink triangle. He set the drinks down and then slid back into the booth, leaning up against the worn leather back. He took a long sip from a short glass, the brown liquid sliding into his mouth like honey.