You Think It, I'll Say It(38)



Nina’s heart, which had slowed on entering Kelsey’s house, begins hammering again. She texts back, Did you try jar of pears?

The response is instantaneous: I have tried everything

Nina types, Maybe go outside with her? She likes looking at birds.

The fact that so many things displease Zoe—Nina doesn’t entirely fault her for it. Many things displease Nina, too, and she has far more control over her life than Zoe has over hers.

Keep me posted, Nina texts, then stands and, in case Kelsey is listening, flushes. She feels the first ache of fullness in her breasts, an ache that very possibly is psychosomatic and babysitter-text induced. She should have worn breast pads in case she starts leaking, she thinks, but she forgot to even bring any to California.

Back in the living room, Kelsey smiles sheepishly and says, “Now that I’ve totally derailed things, do you want to go get breakfast? Are you hungry?”

Nina hasn’t eaten since the granola bars and banana almost seven hours ago in her hotel room; she’s ravenous. She says, “Breakfast sounds perfect.”



* * *





They go to a place that’s a diner except that their omelets are, respectively, twenty-two and twenty-seven dollars. The restaurant is a couple miles from Kelsey’s house, and Kelsey drove them both there in, as Nina dutifully jotted down in her notebook, a black Porsche Cayenne hybrid. As Nina also dutifully jots down, Kelsey’s omelet is egg whites only, with spinach and mushrooms, and she eats a third of it and doesn’t touch her toast or potatoes; not that the world will care, but Nina’s omelet is yolks-in, with tomatoes, sausage, and cheese, and she eats all of it, plus the toast and potatoes. They discuss Kelsey’s TV show and her movie, which was shot in Kentucky and South Africa, and another movie she’s about to star in, and actors and directors Kelsey would like to work with. Even though Nina knows that after she returns to Indianapolis, Kelsey will again seem glamorous, the truth is that, as they sit inches apart, Nina agrees with her own impression from three years ago: Kelsey isn’t particularly bright or interesting. Neither of them brings up the topic of Scott. Nina can feel some of the restaurant’s staff and other patrons registering an awareness of Kelsey’s presence, can feel Kelsey feeling it, and she plans to ask what this phenomenon is like.

It is while Kelsey is explaining why a particular romantic comedy is her favorite movie that Nina’s phone vibrates in her pocket, three times in a row.

“Literally, I’ve watched it a hundred times,” Kelsey says. “The part at the end where he tells her he’s dreamed of her every night since they last saw each other? So swoony.”

“Sorry, but I need to use the restroom again.” As Nina stands, she gestures at her empty plate and Kelsey’s mostly full one and, in an excessively cheerful voice that reminds her of her mother’s, then makes her sad because her mother has now been dead for a year, Nina says, “Delicious!”

She has not stopped crying, the first text from the babysitter reads.

I tried taking her outside it did not work

She does not have fever but do u think she’s sick

There is a part of Nina—say, 15 percent of her—that thinks, For Christ’s sake, what am I paying you for? The sitter works for an agency that charged Nina a two-hundred-dollar fee to join, before the twenty-eight dollars an hour she is paying the sitter herself. This is roughly four times the going rate in Indianapolis, not that Nina has ever used a sitter back home. And, of course, Gloss & Glitter isn’t covering the expense—the magazine wouldn’t have regardless, but Nina didn’t tell Astrid she was taking Zoe to Los Angeles.

Meanwhile, the other 85 percent of Nina cannot bear listening to Kelsey Adams prattle as her daughter cries in the care of a seemingly incompetent stranger. It’s not that she symbolically can’t bear it, it’s actually physical—she feels like jumping out of her skin. Plus, Nina’s breasts are now so swollen that she’s tempted to manually pump them, but where? And into what?

On the phone’s screen, Nina sees that it’s eleven-fifty, which means the interview is about to end, apparently without the walk around the reservoir. Nina considers trying to FaceTime the sitter and Zoe from the bathroom, but, like manually pumping, this idea seems like it could create more problems than it solves.

Nina rejoins Kelsey at the table but doesn’t sit. “I know you have a call at noon,” she says. “It’s great hearing about everything you’ve been up to.”

Kelsey looks confused. “Aren’t we going for a walk?”

“Oh, I assumed since we had breakfast…” Nina trails off, then smiles to compensate. Of course Kelsey doesn’t really have a call.

“Do you have something else planned?” Kelsey still sounds confused but also a little pointed now.

“No!” Nina says and sits. “Are you finished eating? I just wasn’t sure if you were finished.” In her pocket, her phone buzzes yet again.

“I want more coffee,” Kelsey says and raises a hand in the direction of the waitress, who comes over quickly.

Nina had paused her recorder before going to the bathroom. She starts it again and says, “So where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Professionally or personally?” Kelsey asks.

“Either,” Nina says. “Both.” While Kelsey is speaking, Nina pulls her phone from her pocket—it’s 2014, people do this, fuck Kelsey’s fame—and the text reads, In my 22 years as a care provider this is the most a baby has ever cried

Curtis Sittenfeld's Books