“Maddie, honey, here, your bags.” I stand a few feet away from the giggling circle of Maddie and her friends.
“Mom,” she walks over to me, “don’t call me honey, please.”
I lean over to give her a quick kiss and a hug.
“Ew, Mom, stop. I’m just going away for two weeks.” She wriggles out of my arms.
Teenagers.
“Now listen, Maddie. I put a little, blue cosmetic bag in your duffel with some supplies, in case you need them,” I whisper in her ear, knowing she’s been worried about starting her period while away from home.
“Thanks, Mom.” Maddie gives me a quick worried look, then hugs me. I relish it. My little girl is growing up.
As she scampers into the bus, I cross my arms, subconsciously giving myself a hug and thinking about how quiet the house will be when I get home.
Liv
“You look fabulous, my love!” Clarissa says, air kissing me on both cheeks.
“Hello, Liv. You do look ravishing. That dress fits you like a glove.” Alan reaches for my hand and kisses it.
Ugh, when is #metoo going to hit the senior ranks of these centuries-old law firms.
“Oh, this, thanks.” I gesture to my dress. “I got lucky on an eBay auction and the purse is a long ago hand-me-down from my best friend Bex.”
God, I miss Bex at times like this. We’d have a field day making fun of these fussy one-percenters. Even though I’ve been accompanying Ethan to events like this for years, I still feel out of my depth. Before Ethan, the closest I got to a black-tie event with waiters circulating canapes on silver trays was crashing wedding receptions at the Four Seasons in Atlanta—which I’m not ashamed to say Bex and I did a few times. It was definitely the best way for a broke college student to get a free drink. In hindsight, we weren’t being as rebellious as I thought we were. Black tie and fancy hotels were such a novelty for me then; I might as well have been on Mars. But Bex grew up going to cotillions at the country club and five-star hotel ballroom wedding receptions of her dad’s business associates. Even at college, she knew how to act and blend in like she was an invited guest. We got away with it every time.
Ethan gives me a curt look as he leans in to give me a peck on the cheek.
Clarissa laughs a little too loudly. She’s probably already tipsy.
“Darling,” she says to me, “don’t you know one of the perks of being a Treadwell & Sloan wife is that you never buy secondhand. Why on earth would you buy something on eBay? And don’t even get me started on hand-me-downs.”
She turns to Ethan. “Did you know about this?” Then she playfully gives him a little push and champagne sloshes out of her glass. A worried look flashes across Alan’s face as he reaches for Clarissa’s arm to steady her. “Ethan, what are we going to do with our dear little Liv. She is just so…quaint,” Clarissa says with a peal of laughter.
I look around the room nervously. God, I hate these things. Ethan barely even talks to me and we just do the rounds of the room, stopping for banter and superficial exchanges. No one asks me anything about myself, beyond a “How are you?” if even that. But they all have time for Ethan. Questions about a case, what does he think of so and so’s judgment on the such and such case. I tune it all out.
As we make our way to the bar, Ethan whispers in my ear, “Don’t say things like that, please. Really, Liv. I’m a partner. People are going to think we’re having money problems.”
“Why did you leave the session today?” I stop and look at him.
“I told you. The deposition,” he says, miming a hello with a fake smile on his face to someone across the room, then ushers me toward the bar. I know he’s petrified I’ll make a scene.
“You’re coming next week, aren’t you? We wasted £100 on today’s session.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to be in Dubai.”
“What? For how long?”
“I don’t know. I thought I told you already.” He pauses, looking around the room briefly, then continues. “Liv darling, I know you Americans like to talk about feelings and emotions, but I really don’t think we need to be going to those sessions with Emma anymore. We’re fine—just a few bumps along the road, that’s all. Happens to everyone.”
“But what about our trip? Did you forget?” I say, wanting to believe what Ethan’s just told me.
Ethan orders two glasses of champagne from the fresh-faced young man behind the bar. He forgot. Of course, he forgot. He turns to hand me one of the champagne glasses.
“Of course, I didn’t forget about the trip. I’ll be back in time, don’t worry. Let’s do another round of the room. I need to see if David is here from Lewison’s.”
“You go ahead,” I say to Ethan who’s already walking away. “I need to get something in my stomach. Shouldn’t they be circulating canapes by now?”
Ethan melts back into the hubbub of the room. His broad shoulders seem to part the crowd, like some kind of egotistical Moses in a custom-made Savile Row suit. When Ethan finally made partner at Treadwell & Sloane, we had one perfect week of vacation at a luxury resort in Capri. After that, I hardly ever saw him. He disappeared for weeks at a time when late dinners with clients after long days of meetings blurred into each other. I knew he’d come and gone because I’d stumble on a tie discarded on the stairs, or find myself alone at the kitchen table in the morning, drinking coffee surrounded by stacks of his work papers and books that had risen overnight like a paper skyline. One morning, I’d come downstairs and found a pizza box on the sofa with a cold half-eaten pizza still inside. Traces of Ethan, but never Ethan. It seemed as the years went by I spent more and more time alone. Just like I am now. I sigh in resignation and reach for a tray of mini quiches that’s floating by on the outstretched arm of a caterer.
After a few more canapes, I make my way toward the exit to get my coat from the coat check.
“Leaving so soon?”
Shit, it’s Clarissa.
“Oh, um, yeah, I have an early day tomorrow.”
“Let me guess. An eBay auction to wake up for?” She gives me a look up and down, her fake lashes fanning dramatically. “I swear you’re such a riot, Liv.”
“Thanks, Clarissa.” I hope she doesn’t pick up on the sarcastic tone in my voice.
The clerk hands me my coat. Not a moment too soon.
“Call me,” she says in between air kisses. “Let’s go shopping. And I mean Harvey Nicks, not eBay. Believe me, Ethan will thank you.”
“I have to run, Clarissa.”
“Remember, we’re Treadwell & Sloane wives. It’s part of our job to look good for our partners. And by partner, I don’t just mean husbands.” She winks.
The walk from the party to the tube is blustery for a summer evening. Despite the crowded sidewalk, I feel completely alone. Before descending the concrete steps into the station, I drop a text to Ethan.
Have a good time. Need to get an early night.
He probably won’t even realize I’ve left the party. It’s times like this that I miss Bex so much it hurts. I wish I could call her up out of the blue, that I could magically transport myself to her, or better yet go back to the easy days of our childhood before things got so confusing and complicated.