“You cried? You didn’t even know the girl!” Madeline put down her fork, as though she’d just tasted something disgusting; she was clearly mortified on Ellen’s behalf.
“Why would you cry?” asked Julia with interest.
“Pregnancy hormones,” said Madeline wisely. “Although you can’t spend the next six months behaving like that! Couldn’t you, I don’t know, hypnotize yourself or something?”
It was clear just how seriously Madeline was taking this that she’d suggest self-hypnosis. Ellen knew that Madeline thought hypnotherapy was a load of new age nonsense, a waste of people’s time and money, quackery, plain silly, misguided but well meaning; she didn’t know which actual phrases Madeline would use, but she knew from the carefully polite blank expression that crossed Madeline’s face whenever Ellen’s career came up that it would be something along those lines. Ellen had never pushed because she knew Madeline would lie to be polite, and she’d lie badly, and Ellen didn’t see the need to make her uncomfortable. She knew that Madeline was fond of her, and that she would never want to hurt Ellen’s feelings.
Up until now, Ellen hadn’t minded the lack of balance in their conversation. In fact, she’d enjoyed a slightly superior feeling about her maturity in the face of Madeline’s prejudice. Her sense of self-worth didn’t rely on other people’s approval. But now she felt a powerful surge of resentment. Her work was important to her. It was a huge part of her life. Why hadn’t Madeline at least tried to learn more about hypnotherapy? She’d never even asked a single question about her work! What was that about? It was disrespectful. In fact, it was infuriating.
“Have I got something in my teeth?” asked Madeline, flustered. She turned to the mirrored wall. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Ellen cleared her throat. It would not be appropriate to suddenly shriek, “Why have we never talked about my job, Madeline?”
What was wrong with her lately? Pregnancy seemed to be stripping away all her emotional maturity. She had all these new raw, out-of-control feelings. Moments of pure fury followed by hopeless despair. Good Lord. She was behaving like a client.
“Sorry.” Ellen smiled at Madeline to make up for her silent shrieking. “I drifted off.”
“Well, I think there must have been more to it than just hormones,” said Julia. “Did it make you feel guilty? Knowing that you were having a baby with her husband? Of course, you’re the expert on repressed feelings.”
Ellen gave Julia a grateful look. Unlike Madeline, Julia had always been supportive and proud of Ellen’s work. Over the years she’d referred dozens of friends and acquaintances to her. Yes, she was a dear, dear friend.
“Are you crying now?” asked Julia. “Just remembering it?”
“No, sorry, I just—” Ellen began to giggle hopelessly.
She saw Julia and Madeline exchange looks.
“I know pregnant women go a bit crazy,” said Julia. “But isn’t this excessive?”
“Yes,” said Madeline.
“I hate to think what you did when you met your father for the first time,” said Julia. “You must have needed a sedative.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead. “Daddy, Daddy! My long-lost daddy!”
Madeline chortled and then looked guilty. “Although, I guess, maybe meeting your father probably was quite emotional, was it?”
“Actually,” said Ellen, “I had the opposite problem. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Really?” Madeline looked relieved. That was more like it.
“He was just a man,” said Ellen. “A dull, ordinary man. Like your dentist. Or your accountant. Receding hairline. Glasses. I just didn’t find him that interesting.”
“Poor Daddy,” said Julia into her wineglass.
“You know what I really want to talk about?” Ellen put down her knife and fork. “Boxes. Boxes clogging up my hallway.”
“That doesn’t sound especially interesting,” said Julia.
“They’re Patrick’s, right?” Madeline immediately grasped the situation.
“Yes,” said Ellen. “I asked and asked and he won’t move them. It’s driving me crazy. How do you make a man do something without nagging?”
“That,” said Madeline, “is the billion-dollar question.”
I was watching the late news tonight when it suddenly came to me.
I knew exactly who that man was.
So what did he want with Ellen? And why was he so angry with her?
Ellen sat in the car in the dark without turning the keys in the ignition and luxuriated in the sudden silence after the noisy babble in the restaurant. Her ears were buzzing, and she felt overstimulated, as if she’d just been having a crazy drunken night out in a nightclub, not a sedate, alcohol-free dinner with two old friends. For some reason she had found Julia and Madeline a little overwhelming tonight. Their faces in that crowded booth had been so close to hers: Julia’s fine-boned face with the surprising lines around the eyes (surprising because Ellen would always think of her as a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl) and Madeline’s plumper, softer features with the upturned nose and the rosebud lips. Ellen could still smell Julia’s perfume and hear the rhythms of Madeline’s slightly hoarse voice (she had the beginnings of a cold).
“I’m seeing Sam tomorrow night,” Julia had said to her, as they stood on the pavement outside the restaurant, after Madeline had hurried off.
“Stinky? He really did have the flu that time? I knew it! You’ve been seeing him? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“We don’t call him that,” said Julia. “Anyway, don’t get all excited and start planning cozy little double dates. We’re just friends.”
Ellen could see hope shining bright in Julia’s eyes.
“Stop it,” said Julia, when she saw the expression on Ellen’s face. “Not a word.” But her arms tightened around Ellen when she hugged her good-bye.
Now Ellen glanced at her watch. As they’d skipped the movie, it was only nine-thirty. There was a good chance Jack would still be up when she got home. He seemed to stay up very late for an eight-year-old, but what did she know?
She knew that Patrick would be entirely respectful if she was to suggest that Jack’s bedtime be changed, but she felt so self-conscious when it came to parenting this self-sufficient little boy, as if she was just playacting. She should have asked Madeline what time her children went to bed. She would have set her straight.