“Am I?” Ellie laughs. “As cool as it sounds, it feels like... I don’t know, a gang. Like once you’re in you can’t get out.”
I wink and say, “I know, isn’t it great? For so long men have had the exclusive clubs and access. These women are turning the paradigm upside down—quietly taking back their power in pearls and Louboutins.”
Ellie tosses her duffel on the bed and then sits down next to it. “I don’t have the wardrobe to even be seen with women like this. I feel so out of place.”
“But they said they need someone to usher in a new generation of women—you’re not like them, but that’s exactly the point,” I explain. “If you turn down this opportunity I will judge you so hard.”
Ellie giggles, runs a hand through her dark blonde hair, and then starts digging through her duffel. “Is it an opportunity though? Maybe it’s a death sentence.”
“Well, that’s dramatic,” I mumble.
“Well, when you say it like that,” Ellie laughs. “Thanks for coming with me this weekend. It helps to have someone to help me process everything.”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.” I give Ellie a hopeful smile.
“Some of the stories those women have are a lot to take in. Maybe that’s why I’ve been a hermit these last few years—it’s dark out there.”
“You do kind of live in a bubble, working for your dad’s company right out of college,” I say.
“I’ve been blessed in a lot of ways, that’s for sure.”
“Nepo baby,” I accuse Ellie playfully.
She scrunches her nose up at me. “Thinking on those women’s stories kind of gets inside your head.”
I nod. “You’ve been given a lot in life—it’s your responsibility to give back now.”
Ellie doesn't reply, and I think that finally my words have hit their mark. Women raised with privilege and access bubble wrap themselves from the real world, sometimes for an entire lifetime. Ellie doesn’t act spoiled, but she is, just by the nature ofthe family she was born into.
“Feels like the more time I spend with these women and their stories the more I’ll hate men.” She lifts a pair of silk pajamas from her bag, fingering the tie at the waist as she seems to lose herself in thought. “Jack would die.” She frowns. “He hates the feminist movement, says it drives men and women apart instead of bringing them together.”
I shrug. “Maybe he’s right, but so does rape gone unpunished. Don’t you ever think it’s weird that every woman knows another woman who’s been raped or assaulted, but why don’t any men know a rapist? Why don’t they hold each other accountable? Why don’t they warn women, like—Hey, this guy was talking about some shady shit in the locker room, don’t find yourself in a room alone with him. Where’s that warning?”
Ellie nods, still lost in her own thoughts. The sun is streaking the sky out the window in soft orange and pink hues, highlighting Ellie’s wavy hair as she continues to play with the tie of her pajamas. She looks so innocent, almost childlike. I see now why The Society wanted her—not only her familiarity with Columbia, but she’s soft, innocent, naïve, easily controlled. The same reason Jack likes her. The same reason I do.
“What are you thinking about?” I finally ask.
“Jack,” comes her quiet answer. “Sometimes I wonder if he could cheat on me. He’s rarely home. He works a lot so I don’t know when he’d have the time... but the anxiety gets to me sometimes.” I let her words hang in the air. “I’m probably just projecting. I had an emotional affair last year and the guilt of it still weighs heavy on me. I’m lucky we’re even still together—I told him at one point that I wanted a divorce. I’m glad we didn’t go through with it. Jack has always been the constant in my life. His love keeps me stable. I started going to therapy after everything happened—the therapist suggested couples therapy, but Jack said he doesn’t need it, he’s not the one who cheated. I’m the one who’s missing something, he says.”
“Hm,” is all I offer after her confession. I’m not sure what more I’m supposed to say. If she knew how much her husband really does need therapy, well, things would probably be a lot different. After all, would Ellie have cheated if Jack kept her happy and spent more quality time with her instead of working? Cheating is a symptom of a broken marriage, not the cause, and Jack plays a role in that whether he believes it or not.
“I’m worried the anxiety is getting to me—that I might reach a point of no return like my mom.” Sadness flickers in Ellie’s pretty hazel eyes.
“Why, what happened to your mom?” I ask.
Ellie shakes her head, unwilling to say more. I don’t say anything else because I’m not supposed to know this part. But I know more than I’ve let on. If Ellie knew how much I know about her life with Jack, she’d probably cringe with embarrassment. But that’s why I’m here: to be a fly on the wall, watch her like a hawk and keep her on course. I thought keeping up the ruse of our new friendship would be easy, and it is, but I’m surprised to find it’s also fun. I fit well into their lives—we make a neat little triangle, the three of us. Only Ellie doesn’t even know it. But that’s fine—the truth will be revealed in time.
Six
Ellie
“So tell me about Columbia,” Kat says as she holds a flute of Prosecco by the pool Saturday afternoon, her elegant legs crossed at the ankle and an oversized sunhat perched on her head. Even when she’s relaxed her gestures are poised, her tone even. She’s everything I could ever hope to be someday—a picture of grace that I will fall hopelessly short of achieving.
I push a hand through my wind-tousled waves and smile. “I enjoyed it. My dad is an alum so Columbia was a natural choice for me—I knew half of the staff by the time I was a senior in high school and campus felt like a home away from home. Dad is a major donor.”
“And your degree is in finance and econ?” she inquires politely.
“Mhm.” I take a drink from my glass, unsure of what else to say.
