Neighborly(54)

Doug comes home with a bunch of new clothes he bought. He says that the AV is hotter than our neighborhood in Oakland, which is patently untrue. Here, we have breezes off the water. The clothes are from a men’s store on Main Street that he says Tennyson recommended, and I gape at the price tags. But I say nothing. Since I’m not going to divorce him over some linen pants, I have to let it go. He’s going to iron them himself, though.

We haven’t had a conversation of any depth in days. I don’t think any of the men spilled the beans about openness while they were watching the game. If they had, Doug would have said something.

The next morning, I run into Andie at Mommy and Me class. She knew that I’d been meaning to go; why didn’t she call me? We sit next to each other, shaking our maracas and singing, making exaggerated expressions so our babies will smile. It feels awkward to me, but nothing in her bearing suggests she feels the same. Afterward, she rushes off immediately, saying she has an appointment but that we’ll “definitely talk soon. Maybe we could all have dinner again?” She doesn’t wait for my response.

Briefly, I had the promise of a whole social life. Now I feel like it’s receding. I’m an island within an island. Yes, the women are texting me, but they’re not inviting me anywhere. I can imagine all the fun they’re having without me: boat rides, shopping trips, jogs along the beach, bunco games. But I can’t partake of it unless I let them partake of Doug. Can I?

Maybe I can. They told me how much they like me, immediately. Not only Doug but me, too. They said that even if I opt out, we’ll still be friends. And at the block party, everyone did seem to be friends. I can’t imagine that all those people are on the spreadsheet.

I just don’t want it to be weird when Doug and I opt out. We should have everyone over. A cocktail party, maybe? No, we can’t really fit everyone in our house. Our yard is big, though. Maybe a barbecue? Doug would love that, even though it would mean that he has to mow the grass and pull some weeds. We’d also have to buy a grill, which means more debt, but that wouldn’t trouble Doug. Then we can announce that we’re opting out. I’ll have to talk to Doug before then, which will give me a much-needed deadline, since I’m quaking at the thought of that conversation.



Doug comes home, and I tell him about wanting to throw a barbecue. He grabs my face and kisses me. I bask in the spontaneous show of affection. We’re going to be OK after all. The walls between us will come down.

“Awesome! Yes! Absolutely!” He’s nearly dancing around the room. “We have to go to my parents for July Fourth, but how about that next weekend? Who should we invite?” He’s giddy, like a girl about to have her first sleepover. His excitement is infectious, and we plan the guest list together. It’ll be all the usual suspects, and they text back their RSVPs quickly.

On the one hand, I feel extreme relief. Everyone is coming. On the other hand, I’m terrified. Everyone is coming.

I’ve read a lot of Agatha Christie. When the whole cast of characters is in one place, that one place could very well become the scene of the crime.

No, we’re talking about a barbecue. How bad could it be?



Before I know it, it’s July Fourth weekend, and I still haven’t talked to Doug. But I will. I’m going to do it. I can’t chicken out forever.

“Do you think we forgot anything?” I ask Doug, the hatch of the Outback still yawning open, our suitcases inside.

“If we did, we can just buy it there.”

I never like to go to Scott and Melody’s house in Fort Bragg, yet this holiday, I’m actually OK with it. Some time away from the AV might do me good. It’s a palate cleanser.

“Oh, you know what?” I say. “I lost Sadie’s sun hat, and I forgot to buy her a new one. I don’t think we’ll be able to find that in Fort Bragg. Isn’t it basically a retirement community?” I glance across the street. Brandon and Stone keep forgetting to bring over Zoe’s old clothes, which might include a sun hat, so now’s a good time to get them. “I’ll be right back.”

No one answers when I knock on their door. I know Doug and I could just stop at Target on our way, yet I want some reassurance from our neighbors that everything’s OK. I see that Andie’s car is gone. I look up and down the street, my eyes catching on the brownest lawn.

Raquel seems like the safest bet. We had a really good time at the park that one day, and she was the one knocking on my door then.

I ring the doorbell. Then I knock, waiting a long minute. Her car is in the driveway, so she’s likely home. One more ring, then one more knock—that’s not too stalkerlike.

I’m just about to turn around and retreat down the steps when Raquel opens the door narrowly. Really narrowly, like barely wider than her head. She doesn’t want me to go inside. Or she doesn’t want me to see inside.

Her smile, by contrast, is exceptionally warm and friendly, which could mean she’s genuinely happy to see me. It could also mean that she’s afraid I’ve caught her in some sort of compromising position.

I already know her marriage is open. What’s she worried about?

“Hi!” I give Raquel a big smile back. “We’re headed out of town for the weekend.”

“Really? Cool! Where are you going?”

“Fort Bragg, up north near Mendocino. That’s where Doug’s parents live.”