Olivia Goldsmith - Wish Upon a Star

‘I don’t just mean his work. I mean everythin’. You should see the e-mails some of the women he’s slept with send him.’

‘How have you seen them?’ Claire asked.

‘Oh, it’s not like I don’t know his password,’ Tina said and then, for the first time Claire could remember, she actually blushed. She got up off the side of the bureau she was perched on and crossed to the bed. ‘Look, Claire, what I’m tryin’ to say is that people like Michael Wainwright, they’re not like us. It isn’t like I wouldn’t want to find a guy like him. But guys like him, they don’t go with girls like us. That’s why I’m with Anthony. He has a good job, a pension plan. He thinks I’m gorgeous and sexy. And his family loves me. You’d never even get to meet Michael’s family and if he saw this place …’ she gestured, her fingers with their long, painted nails wiggling at the tiny room, the wallpaper curling away from the wall under the window, the worn nylon carpeting.

And instead of shame, or gratitude, Claire was suddenly filled with such rage that she had to turn her back so that Tina couldn’t see it. She knew Tina didn’t ‘mean anything by it’ but for once Claire didn’t need to hear about how she wasn’t good enough, that she shouldn’t expect too much, and wasn’t going to get it even if she did. She knew all of that already.

Claire calmed herself enough to look at Tina. She was careful to control her voice so that it was neither loud nor shaky. ‘I’m not stupid, Tina. I know there’s nothing like what you’d call a “future” with Michael. I don’t have a real future. And I don’t even have a past. There’s no Anthony taking me to Puerto Rico, and there’s no wedding that I’m saving up for. And anyway that’s not what I want. But just because I can’t settle for some guy from around here doesn’t mean I’m going to make a fool of myself over Michael Wainwright. I’m going to have an adventure.’

As soon as she had spoken, she could tell by Tina’s tightened mouth and her body language how offended she was. Claire bit her lip, picked up the new blouse and began to fold it.

‘All I’m sayin’ is to be careful,’ Tina said. ‘I don’t want to see ya get hurt.’

Claire couldn’t bear to look at her. She just put the blouse in her suitcase and went to the closet. ‘I know,’ she said. Then, looking at the empty hangers and the rejected clothes – clothes she realized she never wanted to wear again – the thought came to her that Tina might be jealous.

In all the years that they had been friends, Tina was the one who did things, who went places, who had boyfriends. She was the one with the big family and lots of family parties. She’d had a sweet sixteen, an engagement celebration, and a string of rejected suitors. Claire had an aunt she never met, never had anything that Tina wanted, not even her good grades. Tina didn’t care about school. And, oddly, Tina would never believe that Claire didn’t want any of the things that Tina had.

Now, it struck Claire almost like a blow to the head that, for the first time, Tina might be envious, and that she felt Claire had also dissed her and Anthony. And with that knowledge Claire felt fear. But it was too late. Claire shrugged. ‘Is there anything in here you want?’ she asked.

Without moving, Tina snorted then shook her head. ‘Hey, it’s not like ya movin’ away or dyin’,’ she said. ‘It’s just four days.’

Claire nodded. Her bag was almost full. She just reached down beside her bed and picked up her knitting and two extra skeins of wool.

‘What are ya doin’? You’re not takin’ your knittin’?’

‘Why not?’ Claire asked.

‘Are ya crazy? Men don’t like to sleep with their grandmas.’

‘Tina, I’m not planning to sit in bed and knit. But he’s working on Thursday and Friday and if I have nothing to do …’

‘… you’ll shop. Or have a facial. There’s a spa on the top floor of the Berkeley. There’s a pool on the roof.’

‘A pool?’ Claire asked amazed. Somehow a rooftop pool in rainy London wasn’t part of her mental landscape.

‘Yes, a pool. Ya know, the kind ya swim in. Bring your suit.’

‘Really?’ Claire didn’t want to bring a swimsuit. She didn’t have a nice one and she didn’t want to go swimming with Michael – she needed to show him her thighs like she needed a spinal tap. But she felt Tina’s eye on her. She walked to the dresser, took out her old blue maillot, put it in the suitcase and closed the lid. She reminded herself to take it out once Tina had gone. ‘Well,’ she said, turning back to her friend, ‘I think that’s about it.’ She looked at Tina.

Tina shrugged. ‘Well, I better be gettin’ home.’ Claire nodded and the two of them silently walked down the stairs. Behind her Claire heard the sitcom, Jerry’s snore and her mother’s chuckle over some television joke. ‘Bye, Mrs Bilsop,’ Tina called.

‘Bye-bye,’ Claire’s mother called back.

‘Okay, see ya tomorrow,’ Tina said, raising her voice as if it was important for Mrs Bilsop to hear. Claire stood, holding the screen door open, while Tina walked down the back steps. When she reached the walkway, she turned back to look at Claire. ‘Ya know, I love Anthony.’

Claire nodded. ‘Of course you do,’ she said.

‘No. I mean it. I really love him. More than I could ever love someone like Michael Wainwright.’ Claire nodded again. It occurred to Claire that she might not be the only one with an unrealistic crush on Mr Wonderful. She looked at Tina for a moment, then looked away for fear of embarrassing her. We all have our secrets, Claire thought. And our blind spots. ‘Well, have a good night,’ she said. She didn’t know what else to say.

Tina shrugged, walked off and Claire stood there alone, listening to the tippy taps of Tina’s heels against the Tottenville sidewalk. She realized that something in their friendship, such as it was, had ended. Something was very amiss when Claire’s life was more interesting than Tina’s.

Claire went back to the door and stuck her head inside. ‘Mom, I’m going for a little walk,’ she announced.

‘Better take a sweater or something. You don’t want another cold, do you?’ her mother called back.

Claire reached in and took a sweatshirt off the chair by the entrance, quietly closed the door and shrugged into the garment.

Tina was out of sight now so Claire went off in the same direction and made her way down Ottavio Promenade, where a lot of the big new – and in Claire’s opinion – ugly houses were located. They were mostly huge fake Colonials with lots of brick, columns and concrete balustrades. Her father would have hated them, but now they cost a million dollars to buy. The same thing had happened on Hyland Boulevard. There used to be nothing but a woods with little cottages there but since Claire was in kindergarten all that had changed. The area below it, once a dump, was now filled with mansions along the waterfront, each one larger and gaudier than the one next to it.

Claire preferred her neighborhood. On Amboy Road she turned onto Main Street. Egger’s Ice Cream Parlor was closed and so was the Tottenville Bakery. But as she passed it, a heavenly smell of baking cookies enveloped her. No bakery anywhere was better than Tottenville’s, Claire was sure of that. Hungry, she quickened her steps and walked past the bank building and the beautiful public library.

She was home with perfect timing – her mother and Jerry were still distracted by the television. Claire looked around. The house was a big one, and had probably once been elegant. But that would have been a long time ago. For as long as Claire could remember it had been in disrepair, and though her father had been proud of it, he had never been proud enough to accomplish any renovation. But he did, with Claire’s help, take great care of the front yard and side gardens. Now, it was the only house on the street that hadn’t been bought by rich young couples and spruced up. Claire, like her father, had always loved the house and the old apple orchard behind it. But her mother and Fred had only complained about its run-down nature, though it would be too complicated to move.