Conversations with Friends(69)

On Friday I called him. I told him I was having a strange week and he said how nice it was to hear my voice. I rubbed my tongue against my teeth.

You kind of threw me with that phone call last week, I said. Sorry if I overreacted.

No, I don’t think you did. Maybe I underreacted. Are you upset?

I hesitated and said: no.

Because if you are, we can talk about it, he said.

I’m not.

He was oddly quiet for a few seconds and I worried he had something else bad to tell me. Finally he said: I know you don’t like to seem upset by things. But it’s not a sign of weakness to have feelings. A kind of hard smile came over my face then, and I felt the radiant energy of spite fill my body.

Sure, I have feelings, I said.

Right.

I just don’t have feelings concerning whether you fuck your wife or not. It’s not an emotive topic for me.

Okay, he said.

You want me to have feelings about it. Because you were jealous when I slept with someone else and it makes you insecure that I’m not jealous.

He sighed into the phone, I could hear him. Maybe, he said. Yeah, maybe, that’s something to think about. I was just trying to, uh … yeah. I’m glad you’re not upset.

I was really smiling then. I knew he could hear my smile when I said: you don’t sound glad. He sighed again, a weak sigh. I felt like he was lying on the floor and I was tearing his body apart with my smiling teeth. I’m sorry, he said. I’m just finding you kind of hostile.

You’re interpreting your failure to hurt me as hostility on my part, I said. That’s interesting. This party is tomorrow night, right?

He didn’t say anything for so long then that I was afraid I had gone too far, that he would tell me I was not a nice person, that he had tried loving me and it wasn’t possible. Instead he said: yeah, in the house. Do you think you’ll come?

Sure, why wouldn’t I? I said.

Great. It’ll be nice to see you again, obviously. You can arrive whenever.

Thirty-three is so old.

Yeah, I guess it is, he said. I’ve been feeling it.

*



By the time I got to the party, the house was noisy and full of people I didn’t know. I saw the dog hiding behind the TV set. Melissa kissed me on the face, she was obviously very drunk. She poured me a glass of red wine and told me I looked pretty. I thought about Nick shuddering into her body when he came. I hated them both, with the intensity of passionate love. I swallowed a huge mouthful of red wine and crossed my arms over my chest.

What’s going on with you and Bobbi? said Melissa.

I looked at her. Her lips were stained with wine, also her teeth. Under her left eye was a small but visible shadow of mascara.

I don’t know, I said. Is she here?

Not yet. You need to sort it out, you know. She’s been sending me emails about it.

I stared at Melissa and a shiver of nausea ran over my skin. I hated that Bobbi had been emailing her. It made me want to step on her foot very hard and then look in her face and deny that I had done it. No, I would say. I don’t know what you’re talking about. And she would look at me and know that I was evil and insane. I said I would go and wish Nick a happy birthday and she pointed out the double doors to the conservatory.

You’re in a bad mood with him, Melissa said. Aren’t you?

I clenched my teeth. I thought of how hard I could step on her if I put my whole weight onto the foot.

I hope it’s not my fault, she said.

No. I’m not in a bad mood with anyone. I should go say hello.

In the conservatory, the stereo was playing a Sam Cooke song and Nick was standing there in conversation with some strangers, nodding his head. The lights were dim and everything looked blue. I needed to leave. Nick saw me, our eyes met. I felt it like always, a key turning hard inside me, but this time I hated the key and hated being opened up to anything. He came toward me and I stood there holding my arms crossed, probably scowling, or maybe looking scared.

He was drunk too, so drunk his words sounded slurred and I didn’t like his voice any more. He asked if I was okay and I shrugged. Maybe you should tell me what’s wrong so I can apologise, he said.

Melissa seems to think we’re fighting, I said.

Well, are we?

Is it any of her business if we are?

I don’t know, he said. I don’t know what you mean by that.

A rigidity had settled over my whole body so that my jaw felt painfully tight. He touched my arm and I pulled away from him like he had slapped me. He looked hurt, like any normal person would look hurt. There was something wrong with me, I knew that.

Two people I had never met came over to wish Nick happy birthday then: a tall guy and a dark-haired woman holding a little baby. Nick seemed very happy to see them. The woman kept saying: we’re not staying, we’re not staying, it’s a flying visit. Nick introduced me to them, it was his sister Laura and her husband Jim and their baby, the baby Nick loved. I wasn’t sure if Laura knew who I was. The infant had blonde hair and huge, celestial eyes. Laura said it was nice to meet me and I said: your baby is so gorgeous, wow. Nick laughed and said, isn’t she? She’s like a model baby. She could do ads for baby food. Laura asked me if I wanted to hold her and I looked at her and said: yes, can I?

Laura handed me the baby and said she was going to get herself a glass of soda water. Jim and Nick were talking about something, I don’t remember what. The baby looked at me and opened and closed her mouth. Her mouth was very mobile, and for a while she put her entire hand into it. It was hard to believe that such a perfect creature was dependent on the whims of adults who drank soda water and handed her to strangers at parties. The baby looked up at me with her wet hand in her mouth and blinked. I held her tiny body against my chest and thought about how small she was. I wanted to talk to her, but the others would have heard me, and I didn’t want anybody else to hear.