I’m annoyed that this is the first question she asks. It reinforces the societal view that women are only as successful as their romantic relationships. When Jenni lived with us, she used to know better, used to spit in the face of convention, flick it off with her feral fingers. Now, all pious and manicured, she’s melted right into it.
“Astrid’s still perfect,” Hal says with a fluttery sigh. “It’s actually frustrating because my life was great without her. But now that she’s in it, I don’t think I could ever go back.” She scoops a whole handful of Oreos from the sleeve, stuffs them in her mouth to distract from the confession.
This is the first time I’ve heard Hal say something so serious-sounding about Astrid, or maybe just the first time I’ve listened. Either way, it’s not exactly music to my ears.
“Well said.” Jenni applauds. She and Hal share a look that feels like it’s intentionally leaving me out. Tara too.
“Nothing to report from my end,” Tara says, and I can feel her heart pinching at Hal’s words. “I just play other people’s romances onstage and then have zero leads in real life.” She smiles in a self-effacing way that belies the bruises underneath.
“That’s objectively false,” Jenni says. “Every person in the audience falls in love with you. You’re just too humble to notice.”
“Exactly,” Hal seconds, and Tara blinks twice.
“Maybe a few fall in love with my character,” Tara replies after a beat. “But not with the real me. The Redstockings are the only ones who embrace my offstage awkwardness.” She gives a goopy, thanks-for-sticking-by-me sort of smile until we’re all piled into one big group hug.
I’m the first to duck out of the ring. “Alright, enough with the sap, it’s not maple syrup season yet.”
“How I’ve missed that biting wit,” Jenni says, giving me a playful nudge as I slurp wine straight from the bottle.
“What?” I say, watching Jenni judge my manners. “No need to create more trash by using a plastic cup too.”
“There’s this thing called recycling,” Jenni says.
“Recycling is a scam,” Hal says. “Haven’t you seen the documentaries? It’s all just wasted, sent to landfills anyway.”
“It is pretty wild,” Tara says. “That we’ve sent rovers to Mars and yet can’t figure out how to set up functional recycling systems.”
“An abomination,” I agree, liking how I’ve won the argument, how Hal and Tara have got my back even for the little things like this.
“Well,” Jenni says, moving on. “Guess there’s no point in asking for an update onyourlove life, EJ.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“If there’s anyone I can count on not to change, it’s you,” Jenni says.
What once might have felt like a compliment now lands as an insult and detonates. I don’t like the implication that I’m static, predictable.
“I’ve changed,” I say, chin jutting out defiantly. “I’ve changed the most out of anyone.”
Jenni looks skeptical as she sips on her seltzer, expensive lipstick residue smudging the rim. “Is that so?”
She looks to Hal and Tara to disprove my comment.
“It’s true, actually,” Hal says, and I feel a surge of affection for her, though it dissipates upon her next words. “EJ is in love,” Hal tells the group, with even more drama than Jenni’s pregnancy announcement.
“I’m not in love,” I sneer. “I just don’t really do short-lived flings anymore, that’s all.”
“Right, because you’re in love with Chris,” Hal says. “So no one else lives up.”
“I’m with Hal on this one,” Tara says. The betrayal stings, but their assumptions feel oddly welcome too, like I have a permission slip to admit what they’ve already accepted as fact.
“Chris even came by the Inn the other day to look for EJ after a fight,” Tara tells Jenni, as if this clinches things.
Jenni looks like she’s unsure if we’re scamming her, orchestrating a prearranged stunt. “Who’s Chris?” she asks. “Wait a second...” The gears in her head are turning, and I don’t like the direction. “This isn’t the guy you met at the art gallery way back when? The one you dogsit for?”
“We’ve developed afriendship,”I say. “That’s all.” Usually I’d embellish nothing into something, but now I’m trying to fold something back into nothing.
“That’s how Peter and I started too,” Jenni says. “Innocuous chats at the coffee maker in the office, and now look at us.” She pats her stomach affectionately.
