“I’m off to a soft opening at this place in the Navy Yard. I’d take you with me, but it’s only a plus-one and I promised Jane.”
“Of course, no problem.”
Jane, or “Perfect Jane” as I called her, was Brady’s girlfriend. If she wasn’t doing Pilates, she was saving the world. Jane was the only person I knew who carried a $10,000 handbag to work at a nonprofit and no one flinched. I had recently been to “girls’ night” at her house, a party for three of her girlfriends she threw once a month. That was where they first bombarded me with the husband/kid/job questions. They were all five years younger than me, in sweater sets and pearls, with fiancés and husbands and summer houses on the shore. Perfect Jane and her perfect friends. I remember being insanely jealous, but also somewhat baffled. Yes, Jane actually had a meaningful job, but when the hair was done and the bills were paid and the cars were detailed and the homes were secure, what else was there? Was it just a vacuous sense of happiness? Or were they truly enlightened? They all had blonde highlights and fillers, and they constantly talked about Pilates and dieting. It seemed to me that they were Hangers On, clawing to money and status and outward beauty, but what did I know, really? Would I turn that life away? Probably not.
Brady noticed I was trying to hide a scowl, and he gave me a puppy dog look.
“Are you still bitter about girls’ night?” he asked.
“No, I actually like Jane. It’s her posse of housewives, who I like to affectionately call the ‘Sweater Set,’ that can grate on me.”
Brady smiled, then checked his teeth and put on his jacket.
“I know you kid about it, but isn’t that what you want, Page? Not to be a housewife, but to be in love, get married?”
“Well, I thought I did. Now I’m not really sure. Maybe I’ll start with a date.”
“Weren’t you just on one?”
I thought of Michael bringing me into his bedroom to show me his rare skulls after our horse ride. It was a little creepy, but he still had this gentle, trusting way of looking at me that may have been partly sexual. Or was he just grateful I swooped in for the almond debacle?
“He likes me, but I’m not sure in what capacity. Hard to tell which team he plays on. From what I’ve heard, I’m guessing he’s fluid.”
“Wow. How evolved.”
“Anyway, we bonded over Blaine, the sculptor. The one Liv represented in New York? He’s got three of them in his yard!”
“Aren’t those really expensive?”
“Yes, it’s about two million. For art in your yard.”
“Not exactly the garden gnome variety.”
“I think he’s lonely. His family is really high profile, and apparently he was banished to the States. Most everyone he knows is still in Austria.”
“And how exactly did you meet him?”
“Through Barkley at the dog park.”
“Barkley McFadden? That’s where you went to dinner? Oh my God. Did he do his impersonations?”
“Yes! How do you know him?”
Brady gave me a look, like he was trying to tell me he knows more than I think he does.
“I actually met him at a charity event we catered, but then he hired Jane’s nephew.”
“Huh?”
“To mow his lawn. It didn’t last. We went to his house, and he was hitting on me, even though I was there with Jane. Did you see his collection of Belgian loafers? He has them in like, thirty colors. The guy’s interesting, but a bit of a quack. I see it hasn’t taken you long to prey on DC’s elite.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not preying on anybody. I just go to the dog park!”
“Well, I never thought I’d say this, but I think you should keep going. And I want to hear more about Mr. Austria, but I’m late.”
“Maybe when I’m Mrs. Austria,” I joked.
He kissed me on my hand, something he never did until he started making money in DC.
After he left, my phone buzzed. It was my mother. Twice in a day? I knew something must have been wrong, so I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Charlie’s dying.”
I did not become alarmed. My mom was a total drama queen. Every issue was treated like a one-act play. Sometimes I pictured the sound effects, the curtain being raised, her standing in a spotlight.
“Mom, you’ve been saying that for a year.”
“Yeah, but . . . it’s not good, honey.”
Brady and I were glad she had found someone, but not thrilled that Charlie was married, and that she basically checked out of our lives after meeting him. They were high school sweethearts and hadn’t seen each other since they were sixteen, and several years after my father died, Charlie had heard the news and got in touch with my mother. He came over, and after dinner they started dancing, right into the bedroom. Forty years later. Romantic, but the guy was a dick if you asked me, saying how much he loved my mother all the time, but then never leaving his wife. Same old story I guess. Now he had some sort of brain tumor, which actually didn’t surprise me. Karma’s an uber-bitch.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mom.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking, seeing him all this time. But he’s the only other man I’ve ever loved besides your father.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to start thinking about someone else. Preferably someone that’s available and not . . . dying?”
She laughed a little, then said, “All right, well, I’m going to come see you guys soon, I told the Bradester.”
That was my father’s nickname for Brady. I felt a pang but shook it off.
“Okay, Mom. We’ll have fun, just the three of us.” I sounded convincing because I was. Even though she had gotten more fragile and high maintenance in her sixties, and you had to seriously monitor her wine intake, I could use a mother.
Before the sun went down, I took a walk down Q Street and looked up at the scattered clouds. It was another beautiful day, and summer felt imminent, like children in a ballet waiting in the wings, ready to flutter onto the stage. City birds flew in circles around the church, and a young couple stopped to watch. I thought about Brady’s question. Would I really have married Jack if he had asked me? If I did, would I just become a part of the Sweater Set? I wanted to be in love, not in a situation. I wanted to be a Bright Light, not an Airport Bar. Everyone always tells you to be yourself, but what if that is something that isn’t stagnant and keeps evolving? When do you actually catch up with it?
The EDP was pretty much empty except for a sad-looking woman with a poodle. She asked me where my dog was, and I just shrugged, changing the subject. “Can I ask you something?”
She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no.
“Do you think everyone should get married and have kids?”
She raised her penciled-in eyebrows. “Overrated. I’ve had two husbands—one’s dead and the other’s a drunk—and two grown kids that don’t even talk to me.”
“Wow, you’re batting a thousand.”
She smiled and touched my arm. “Why don’t you start with a dog? They really make great companions.”
Unbelievable. How did she even know I was single? Was I that transparent? I did want a dog. Badly. I had even started researching some adoption places online. But that piece didn’t fit into the puzzle of my present life.