“David?” Nicola’s not sure what to do, so she feigns confusion, as though there are a lot of Davids, and they are often disappearing.
“My husband. Your cousin. David.”
“Ah. That David. I thought I saw him by the outdoor bar, but that was maybe fifteen minutes ago... I was talking to these other people for a while... or maybe could he be in the bathroom line? The bathroom line has been long all night.”
Taylor says, “I hate this party. Who are these people? I don’t know anyone here.”
“Yeah.” It’s maybe the first time Nicola has completely agreed with Taylor on anything. “I don’t know anyone either. I kind of hate it too.”
“I mean, who evenisthis person, this Juliana?” (Does she really want Nicola to answer this?) “I knowwhoshe is, obviously, but like, why is she here? It’s so random.” She takes a breath and then says, “If you see David, please tell him I’m looking for him. I’ve got work tomorrow.” She holds up a hand as though to stop Nicola, but she hasn’t said anything. “Yes, I know, it’s Saturday, but still, I’ve got work. I’d really like to get the hell out of here.”
“If I see him I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you.” Then Taylor says, “Nicola?” Nicola turns back. “I want to ask you something. Here, sit down.” She knows, is what Nicola thinks. She knows, and she’s going to ask me, and I’m a terrible liar, and I don’t know what I’m going to say. Taylor pats the cushion next to her, and Nicola, who wants to run in the other direction, sits. And waits. She sits perfectly still, as though any movement may loosen the question from Taylor. The illumination offered by the lanterns and the twinkly lights crisscrossing above them is incomplete, so part of Taylor’s face moves in and out of the shadows as she speaks. And somehow, even here, even now, her hair glows. It glows as if it’s lit from within.
When the question comes, it’s not the one Nicola is expecting. And she’s fine with that.
“Did I ever tell you about when I met David?” Taylor leans toward Nicola. But she’s not just leaning; she’s swaying a little bit. Taylor, Nicola realizes, isdrunk! Nicola has yet to see Taylor in any state other than perfect composure. This is a true plot twist.
“At Yale, right?”
“In the mailroom,” says Taylor dreamily, swaying a bit more. “I had to pick up a package, and I only had ten minutes before my next class, no time for lunch, so I had grabbed some fries at the Elm”—(Taylor says this as though Nicola has any idea what the Elm is, but okay, she nods and goes with it.)—“and I put the fries down on the counter to balance the package after I got it, and somebody else in line bumped into me and the whole thing of fries just went all over the floor.”
“Oof,” says Nicola dutifully. As far as tragedies go, this is not a big one, but she waits to see what Taylor will follow it with.
“It was such a dumb thing to get upset about. Not a lot of things unnerved me, even as a little baby freshman. I had my shit together. I’ve always had my shit together; that’s what I do. I came out of the womb with my shit together. But for some reason this one thing, these fries...” Her voice trails off for a minute, then she regains it. “For some reason this one thing got to me, and I startedcrying. In the mailroom. And this guy came up—”
“And picked them all up for you!” says Nicola triumphantly.
Taylor turns to her in wonder. “So hehastold you?”
“No.” Nicola tries to keep the note of light exasperation out of her voice: where this story is going, after all, is pretty obvious. “It’s just what David would do.”
“Oh.” Taylor looks momentarily confused, then she picks up the thread of the narrative. “Well, yes. He said, ‘Hey, hey, it’s not so bad, let me help you.’ And he got on the ground and started picking upthe fries, one by one, until they were all back in the container, and then he found a trash can, and when he got back from the trash can he asked what residence hall I lived in, and somehow he figured out what room, and later that afternoon there was a knock on the door and there he was, with a new container of fries. So hot and salty, little packets of ketchup on the side...” Her voice trails off. “And that was David.”
Of course that was David, thinks Nicola. That whole move issoDavid. Nicola can totally see it. Because it wasn’t a move, the way it would be with some guys. It was genuine kindness.
It was, by the way,such a big dealwhen David got into Yale. For their family, sure. But for their high school too, and for the town. But Nicola, who knew him so well before he went, does not know so much about his life there, only that he came out of it with a degree, and with Taylor.
Taylor goes on: “Oh, but there’s one other thing. Back in the mailroom, after he threw away the fries, he took the hem of his shirt and wiped my tears away. It was so silly. I mean, that’s like straight out of a rom-com, right? I hate rom-coms. They don’t make any sense.”
“They don’t,” agrees Nicola.
“It was just so kind. It was sokind. Nobody had ever been kind to me in that way. Because, and I hope this doesn’t make me sound like an asshole, but when you have a lot of money, and you look a certain way, nobody thinks you need kindness too. But I did. I do. And this is going to sound crazy, but I said to myself right then, all those years ago, I’ve got to marry this man.”
Despite herself, Nicola is getting caught up in the story. There’s something so unexpectedly simple about it. So random. But aren’t so many of our meetings that lead to big changes in our lives random? A mailroom, some French fries, then, boom, here you are, fourteen years later, with a child and a house (multiple houses, in Taylor and David’s case, fair enough), and a shared history, a shared future. “So you did.”
“I did. Because I get what I want. All of the Buchanans do. And now I’ve messed it all up. I think I can fix it, Iwantto fix it, but I’m worried that I’ve ruined it.”
Of course she must be talking about the man at the construction site. But Nicola isn’t supposed to know about him, so she asks, “Ruined it how?”
This questions snaps Taylor out of what almost seems—for someone so controlled—a fugue state. She says, “Oh, never mind. Forget I said anything. I’m sorry to bother you with all of this, okay, Nicola? I’m just tired, that’s all. I’m so tired, and I want to go home, and kiss my daughter while she’s sleeping, and go to bed.”
Nothing about Taylor’s posture suggests she’s looking for a hug, but Nicola has to stop herself from offering one anyway. She tries to remember the things she doesn’t like about Taylor—the way she put the Carrs at such a faraway table at the wedding, the way she wouldn’t let David persue his race car dream, the Country Cousin comment, even, perhaps unfairly, her Elsa-from-Frozenbeauty—but she doesn’t see that Taylor now. “Why don’t I take a look around for David? Will you be here?”
“I won’t move a muscle,” says Taylor, resting her head against the back of the couch.
Nicola weaves through the crowd, looking for David. He’s so tall, she’s surprised she can’t find him immediately. Then, on the far side of the patio, she spots him. He’s with Juliana. They’re standing close together, almost touching but not quite.
