Harrison had gone to col ege in Boston too, and Isabel a often wondered if they’d ever run into each other on the street or brushed shoulders at a bar. She’d asked him this once when they had just started dating and it seemed romantic to think that they might have been in the same place years ago.
“Probably not,” he said.
“No,” she agreed. “Probably not.”
Harrison had gone to Tufts and was two years older, while she’d been at Boston Col ege, on the other side of the city. It made her sad to think they’d never be back there again, never bounce from bar to bar drinking and dancing just because they could, just because they should. It wasn’t that she wanted to be in col ege again, exactly. No, she just missed it sometimes, the aftermath of those nights out, inexplicable bruises and lost wal ets, phone numbers being requested, make-outs with near strangers in crowded bars.
Harrison didn’t seem to miss the past at al .
“But don’t you wish you could go back, just for a week?” she asked.
“I guess maybe,” he answered. She knew he didn’t mean it.
Isabel a could spend hours looking at pictures from col ege. She liked to set them next to the more recent pictures from weddings and reunions and compare the two. It wasn’t that they looked old now—they weren’t even thirty! It was just that they looked so young in the col ege pictures, so baby-faced and rubbery. Isabel a studied the different shots of them, dressed up in ridiculous costumes or bundled up for a footbal game. It amazed her, how eager their expressions were, like they couldn’t wait to get to the next party, like there was just so much fun waiting for them.
Isabel a couldn’t get over the way their skin looked in these pictures. It was dewy and pink and she couldn’t imagine what they’d ever complained about. It looked as though they were smothered in highlighting cream. Now they were dul er and more matte. And she was pretty sure they were going to stay that way.
Even Harrison’s col ege pictures made her sad—him in a dirty house standing next to a keg, his arms around friends and a half-drunk smile on his face. It made her homesick that she would never know him there. They’d met after they both had jobs, and it broke her heart that she’d never know the col ege Harrison. She studied the pictures of him with his col ege girlfriend, trying to figure out what they were like, jealous that the girl in the picture knew Harrison in a way that she couldn’t.
The ride to Boston took a while and they listened to NPR for most of the way. Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me! was on, which was Harrison’s favorite show. He laughed at things that Isabel a didn’t find funny. She wanted to ask him what he was laughing at, but knew that the answer would probably be a look that said, You’re not as smart as I am so you don’t get it, and so she stayed quiet.
Isabel a fel asleep toward the end of the drive, and woke up confused and cranky as they pul ed into the driveway. Her mouth was open and she had drool on her cheek. She wiped it away and looked at Harrison, annoyed.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she asked.
“You’re already up,” he said and turned off the ignition.
Brinkley was outside the house with their golden retriever, and Isabel a watched him wave and wished that they hadn’t come. She wiped her mouth again to make sure she got al the drool off and ran her fingers through her hair.
“Ready?” Harrison asked. She opened the door and got out.
Brinkley walked over to greet her and kissed her on the cheek. Al of Harrison’s friends had impeccable manners. She resisted her impulse to curtsy.
“Coco’s inside with the baby,” he said.
The baby (Isabel a had to admit) was gorgeous. There was none of the ruddy-faced pimply skin newborns sometimes have. This baby was pink and cream, with dark hair and deep blue eyes. Isabel a didn’t want to be in love with her but immediately was.
Coco was funnier than she remembered, which was maybe due to the fact that she’d gotten a little fat during her pregnancy. She had always been a tiny girl, but now on her short frame was the unmistakable blubber of leftover baby.
“Al I want now is sausage,” she told Isabel a with wide eyes. “It’s unreal. Red meat and sausage.”
She offered Isabel a a glass of wine and poured some red into two oversized glasses. “I’m not real y supposed to drink if I’m breast-feeding, but fuck it. I just went nine months without a drink. Plus, I go crazy by the end of the day with just this little blob to keep me company,” she said, smiling at the baby.
Isabel a liked Fat Coco more than she’d ever liked the other one.
They drank until dinner and nibbled on cheese and crackers. They passed around the baby and Coco opened the present. Isabel a held Elizabeth and wished that she’d brought her the bunny. By the time they sat down, they were al a little drunk.
Brinkley put the steaks on everyone’s plates and gave Coco the largest one, which struck Isabel a as incredibly kind. She’d always thought Brinkley would be the kind of husband who wouldn’t want a chubby wife. But he didn’t care! Coco had just had their baby and he was grateful.
Isabel a felt tears come to her eyes and made a mental note to stop drinking the wine.
Harrison and Isabel a made a plan to go to Newbury Street to walk around and have lunch, but by the time Isabel a was showered and dressed and got down to the kitchen the next morning, there was another plan al set. Coco was packing a picnic basket for them to bring to Boston Common.
Who owned a picnic basket? Did everyone have one except for Isabel a?
Isabel a kept looking at Harrison to catch his eye. This was not the plan. But he didn’t seem to notice. He poured himself a cup of coffee and talked to Brinkley about some guy they knew who’d been fired for stealing from clients. Isabel a wasn’t sure, but she thought the guy’s name was Mortimer.
Harrison leaned over his coffee, stuffing his nose right over the top as he inhaled. “Now, this,” he said, looking at Isabel a, “this is real coffee.”
Isabel a hated him so much she almost spit. His nostrils looked huge when he smel ed the coffee, and she felt nauseous. She smiled and asked for Advil.
Isabel a hadn’t been on a picnic for as long as she could remember. Maybe even longer. And she knew why. It was uncomfortable to sit outside and awkward to pass around thermoses fil ed with soup, trying not to spil them on clothes, holding on to napkins as they blew away. She was smiling, though, so as not to be rude. Her head hurt from the wine and she wished that she were stil in bed. It was cold when the wind blew—too cold, certainly, to be sitting outside for a meal.
Boston Common was pretty, especial y with al of the leaves changing colors and the beautiful brownstones in the background. Everyone in Boston looked cleaner and more awake than people in New York. But Boston Common was not Central Park, and it looked smal and eager to Isabel a, like it was trying too hard.
The baby was bundled up to the point of insanity. Al Isabel a could see was a teeny nose sticking out of a pile of blankets. Coco leaned over and touched her nose to the baby. Isabel a felt something that was certainly jealousy, although she wasn’t sure why. She wished that she wanted to sit closer to Harrison and have his arm wrapped around her, but she didn’t.
Harrison was explaining how the hedge fund he worked for was adjusting to the economy and how their outlook was changing. Every time he said the word “derivatives,” Isabel a’s temples throbbed. Coco and Brinkley listened intently, and not just to be polite. They were interested in what he was saying.