Neighborly(21)

“That does sound fascinating,” Andie says. “I’m just home with Fisher. And I volunteer. I’m a member of different boards. It sounds so frivolous, doesn’t it? But I’m fulfilled, mostly. That’s the weirdest part.”

“What did you used to do?”

Nolan and Andie exchange a glance so quickly that I think maybe I imagined it. “I was an art history major.”

“Then she met me,” Nolan says.

There’s more of a story there, but neither of them seems eager to tell it, which is notable, since they’d offered up Fisher’s adoption tale so readily. But who doesn’t have more of a story than they want to tell?

“Where did you two meet?” Andie asks.

“Online,” I answer.

“On Tinder?” Andie says, teasing.

“We’re old school. Pre-app.” Doug smiles at me. “But I would have swiped right for her.”

I smile back. On Match.com, I had checked the box for casual dating, wanting companionship, not at all equipped for intimacy, and Doug had checked the box for serious relationship. But he changed my mind. I’d never thought I’d be the marrying kind, let alone the mothering kind, and yet here I am, courtesy of him. He made me want both. No, more than that, he made me believe I could be good at both.

Not that I want to go into any of that. “The walnut pomegranate spread is phenomenal.”

Nolan slides the serving platter down. “Please. Have more.”

“Gina and Oliver met online, too.” Andie sips her wine. “I think he used to be a real player.”

“Which people are those?” Doug asks. “I’m not sure I met them.”

“He’s tall and thin. Graying mustache—”

“He looks exactly like John Waters,” Nolan interrupts. “It’s uncanny.”

“And their house is impeccable.”

If Andie is calling someone’s house impeccable, I don’t even want to imagine. “Gina’s the one whose hair is shaped like a mushroom,” I say.

Andie lets out a peal of delighted laughter. “It totally is!”

“She’s going to girls’ night, right?” I query.

“She’s a regular.”

“Are you a regular?” Doug says to Andie. “I need to know more about this cult that’s recruiting my wife.”

“Andie’s not a regular,” Nolan answers. “It’s a very—how do I put it?—selective group.”

And they haven’t selected Andie? I want to know what that says about them, or about her, but there’s no tactful way to ask.

“I didn’t know we were surrounded by snobs,” Doug says. “But you can’t tell everything from one block party.”

“No, it’s not like that.” Andie is directing her comments at me. “They’re all great. Every last one of them. Tennyson, June, Yolanda, Gina, Raquel—you couldn’t ask for better neighbors. We’re going to have so much fun on Thursday.”

If they’re all great, and Andie’s clearly great, then why isn’t she a regular?

“Which one’s Raquel?” Doug says. “Is her hair shaped like a bell pepper?”

Then we’re all laughing and talking, like old friends. It’s nearly perfect.

Except halfway through the main course, when I finally realize who Nolan reminds me of, and I lose my appetite completely.





CHAPTER 7

You have 15 new posts from your GoodNeighbors!

What’s the best weed whacker?

Lost corgi named Bamboo

Free outdoor pizza oven

Never mind, I found Bamboo! Thanks for the outpouring!

Any recommendations for home day cares?

That last one is me.

It’s 1:49 a.m.

I haven’t been able to fall asleep. I just keep replaying the dinner in my mind. I like Andie so much. It’s painful to think that I won’t be able to be her friend, just because I can’t stomach her husband.

Maybe I can just avoid him. There are girlfriends, and then there are couple friends. Andie and I can be the former.

Unfortunately, though, Doug likes both Nolan and Andie. I don’t really see how I can just cut him out of the equation, not without revealing parts of my past that I intend to keep hidden.

And honestly, it’s not Nolan’s fault. I don’t want to hold a vague resemblance against him. It feels bigoted somehow. But I can’t have a relationship that’s like one long PTSD flashback.

Hey there! No recommendations, but I can tell you a few horror stories. Places to avoid. The kind where they let the kids fall asleep in car seats and Rock ’n Plays. Total deathtraps.

That response is from Yolanda. I hadn’t even realized she was on GoodNeighbors. I never got a welcome message from her.

I asked Andie about childcare, and of course, she has a nanny. She offered information on the agency she used and I took it, even though there’s no way we can afford that kind of luxury. We can’t even afford a childcare center. It’s home day cares all the way for us.

Andie’s out of my league. She and Nolan are out of our league, both Doug’s and mine. That, I decide, is why we can’t take the friendship any further. “Can you picture them eating in Crayola?” I’ll say to Doug. “It’s ludicrous.” We can just stick with our own kind.