When We Fall (10 page)

“Poor thing.”

“Right, because you're what? A six?”

“On a good day.” Charlotte closed her eyes, and they sat
quietly for a few minutes, leaving Allison unsure if Charlotte had fallen asleep. “I was thinking about what you said earlier.” Charlotte opened her eyes again and stared up at the ceiling.

“About what?”

“Jack. How he was the one for you. Your soul mate.”

“Yeah?”

“What if Charlie isn't my soul mate? What if there's someone else out there, married to another woman, and we're both navigating life unhappier than we should be? You know, because we never found each other.” Allison kept quiet, allowing Charlotte to muse. “What if the day, or the week, or even the month after Charlie and I met, I was supposed to inadvertently brush up against this man on a crowded subway car and we were supposed to ride to the next stop together, holding hands through every dark tunnel, realizing in an instant that we were meant to be?”

“You ride the subway?” Allison smiled and Charlotte swatted her arm.

“You know what I mean.”

She did. Allison had asked herself so many what-ifs over time that she could hardly begin to tally them.
What if
she hadn't let Jack go on the ski trip?
What if
he'd landed the new job he'd been interviewing for and had been forced to bow out of the trip himself? After all, he'd been practically certain that everything had gone perfectly and they'd both been shocked and disappointed when the firm had decided to “go in a different direction” at the last minute.
What if
she'd rebuffed his advances in bed the night they'd conceived Logan? The litany of supposing was endless.

“I do, but I don't have the answers you're looking for.” Allison rolled onto her side to face Charlotte, who was surrendering her uncertainty to exhaustion. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“That sounds good,” Charlotte mumbled, barely lucid. “Good night . . .”

“Good night.” Allison closed her eyes and, for the first time in months, let herself dream about Jack.

C
harlotte and Allison had both woken up with nagging cricks in their necks, moaning about how preposterous is was for two grown women to have to sleep in the same bed, even if it was king-sized. “Good thing we have massages at eleven!” Allison had declared, shimmying toward their shared bathroom before calling out, “Dibs on first shower!” Charlotte had protested frivolously, delighting in how much closer she and Allison had become in just over twenty-four hours. Then she'd thought about how proud it was going to make Charlie that Allison liked her too.

After their morning treatments and a late lunch of hummus with whole wheat crackers, marinated tofu, seasoned brown rice, and a medley of fresh steamed vegetables followed by guava sorbet for dessert, Charlotte had insisted that they head back to the spa for manicures and pedicures and to spend half an hour in the sauna to “sweat out all the toxins.” Allison had agreed without question, leaving Charlotte to wonder if she was always so laid-back.

“You are the loudest snorer ever, by the way.” Allison coiled her hair into a topknot and secured it with an elastic band.

“I am not!” Charlotte objected. “Anyway, you're a cover hog. I'm asking for an extra blanket tonight.”

“I'm sure that won't be a problem, unless it has calories!” She opened her mouth and covered it with her hand, feigning horror.

“Very funny.” Charlotte adjusted her towel to make sure it didn't slip, while Allison discarded hers. “You're naked.” Her eyes widened.

“Well, look at that, I am.” Allison smiled mischievously. “Go on, take yours off.”

“No, thanks.” Charlotte shook her head like a two-year-old refusing to eat her Brussels sprouts. “I don't do public nudity.”

“Public nudity!” Allison scoffed. “You're too much. First of all, I swear to you I've seen what you've got. Secondly, I'd hardly say we're in midtown Manhattan. Throw caution to the wind. Walk on the wild side. You get my drift. . . .”

“That's easy for you to say. Your body is perfect.”

“Would you stop? You look great, Charlotte. Seriously. And don't worry, I have my own insecurities. Every woman does. And probably every man too; they just don't analyze it the way we do or judge each other.” Allison leaned back on her elbows, closing her eyes and allowing the penetrating heat to slacken her sore muscles. “I mean, have you ever heard two men gossiping about their friend's cankles?”

“No, I have not.” Charlotte dabbed at the beads of sweat dripping down the side of her neck. “Believe me, I work my butt off to look like this. And no matter how hard I try, I still can't work my actual butt off!” She thought back to how
many diets she'd been on over the years. Cabbage soup. Weight Watchers. Jenny Craig. Nutrisystem. Medifast. Blood type. Atkins. There'd been one where she'd consumed only specially prescribed cookies for a week. And another that had required her to eat by color: green one day, orange the next, and so on right over the rainbow. Not to mention the many juice fasts she'd endured, during which time she'd been so starving that “bitch on wheels” had been a euphemism for her swaying moods.

“That's because your body is happy at this weight.”

“Well, what if I'm not?”

“I think that's got more to do with up here.” Allison tapped her index finger on her forehead. “And the crazy moms at school who SoulCycle themselves into skeletons in skinny jeans. Honestly, they look prepubescent, if you ask me. I can't imagine any man would be attracted to that.”

“I don't think it's for the men.”

“Pretty sad, huh? That women are so competitive that they're willing to waste away to nothing in order to be two pounds thinner than their supposed best friends.”

“It's the way of the world, I guess. Or at least the Wincourt world.”

“Well, it's a stupid way, if you ask me. And we're not helping generations of women-to-be, which is even more pathetic.”

“I know. Charlie hates the way Gia looks.” Charlotte tilted her face down, toward her freshly painted pink toenails. She wasn't sure how much she could or should say to Allison.

After their conversation about Jack the day before, Charlotte had been ready to spill everything to Allison about her troubled marriage to Charlie. How every day she asked
herself where she'd be in five years. Ten years. Would he walk out on her the day Gia left for college? Or would they both stay, firmly planted in unhappiness, unwilling to admit the failure that was their relationship? In some small way, selfishly speaking, Charlotte wanted her to know the man Charlie could be, had become, when he wasn't being his old self around Allison. But above all, she wanted and desperately needed someone to rely on, because more often than not, she was the shoulder everyone leaned on.

“Gia's not even ten years old yet. She's beautiful.”

“She's also chubby. Charlie wants her on a strict diet, which in some ways I can understand. I've struggled with my weight all my life. And I don't want Gia to have to go through that too. But it's still hard.” Charlotte sighed. “He's the one that doesn't want her eating pancakes or chips or ice cream. I'm the one that has to say no. How can I expect her to eat a fruit plate when the other kids are inhaling macaroni and cheese and chicken fingers?”

“You can't. And you shouldn't. I'm surprised at him.” Allison shook her head disapprovingly, and Charlotte took that as an indication that she could divulge more.

“It's not the only thing we fight about.” Allison didn't say anything. She just nodded, giving Charlotte the room to expand. “It could be anything. On any given day. I'm pretty sure he hates me at this point.” She swallowed a lump in her throat.

“He doesn't hate you. Marriages are hard work. Or so I've been told.”

“Did you and Jack ever fight?” Charlotte looked up, the pain evident in her eyes.

“We certainly had our disagreements.”

“No, I mean did you ever completely have it out? You know, name calling and all.”

“No, we didn't. Jack wasn't a name caller. I can't imagine Charlie is either.”

“Ha!” Charlotte snorted. “I know he's your friend, so I shouldn't . . .”

“Anything you say to me in private is between us, Charlotte.”

“It hasn't always been the way it is now. When we first met, it was like he was addicted to me. And me to him. You know when you're in that stage when just dropping the person's name into a conversation gives you a burst of adrenaline that could get you through even the worst of bad days?”

“Absolutely.” Allison wrapped her towel around her again.

“That was us. Totally head over heels. He used to bring me white calla lilies from the Korean market across the street every single day. They're my favorite.”

“It's always that way in the beginning.”

“I know. But it doesn't always take the turn it did in our case.”

“What do you think happened?”

“That's the thing. I wish I knew.” A lone tear escaped from the corner of Charlotte's eye. “There wasn't one defining moment or even two. We just grew further and further apart until the distance became so great that we were practically strangers. You haven't noticed?” Charlotte could only speculate about what Charlie had already told Allison, though from the sound of it, it wasn't much, if anything at all. He was probably less intent on making Charlotte look bad than
he was on ensuring he remained the good guy, at least as far as Allison was concerned.

“A little,” Allison admitted. “But I never thought it was this bad.”

“You have no idea.”

“He's never . . .”

“Hurt me? God, no. He'd never do that. Still, words can be damaging.”

“Without a doubt.”

“I know I'm not perfect.” She sniffed, wiping her runny nose with the corner of her towel. “I hate who I am when I'm around him. And how I treat him sometimes. There's just so much bottled-up resentment. I used to tell myself, ‘Today is going to be a good day. I'm going to be really nice to Charlie when he gets home from work.' And then he'd walk in the door, already irritated about something, and my well-intentioned plan would crash and burn. I do know how to push his buttons when I want to.”

“I'm so sorry. I had no idea.” Allison liberated her hair from the ponytail holder, allowing it to tumble loosely across her bare shoulders.

“It's nice to have someone to talk to about it for a change.”

“What about your sister?”

“My sister.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Where do I begin?”

“She seemed really cool when we met at your house.” Allison fanned herself with her hand. “Though I did notice you didn't invite
her
to come to Canyon Ranch.”

“It's complicated. Elizabeth used to be very cool. In fact, that's just the word I would have used to describe her before . . .”

“Before what?”

“She lost her baby girl.”

“Oh my God.” Allison looked genuinely stricken. “What exactly do you mean by
lost
?”

“It's not something we talk about anymore, so . . .”

“I understand. You don't have to tell me.”

“No, it's okay.” Charlotte paused, feeling somewhat guilty that the tragic circumstances of Elizabeth's life were now fodder for securing her newfound bond with Allison, but she continued. “About ten years ago, Elizabeth and her ex-husband, Rob, had a little girl named Cossette.”

“Pretty name.”

“One night while Rob was out of town on a business trip, Elizabeth put Cossette to sleep on her back, but at some point she found a way to roll onto her stomach. She was only three months old.”

“Oh no.” Allison's eyes watered. “Not SIDS?”

“Yes, SIDS. You never think it'll happen to your child, you know?”

“Of course.”

Charlotte could remember it like it was yesterday, though an entire decade had elapsed. They'd both been pregnant at the same time, which had been a blessing. They'd never been terribly close growing up, and for the first time, they'd had common ground to unite them. Elizabeth had been thrilled when Charlotte had told her she too had a bun in the oven. They were both destined to be young mothers, Elizabeth had said, even going so far as to suggest that they should try to coordinate any and all future pregnancies! Charlotte had been equally ecstatic, having been certain previously that
she and her sister would never have a meeting of the minds on anything.

“And it wasn't her fault. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Without a doubt.” Allison concurred wholeheartedly.

“Unfortunately, Rob didn't see it that way. He walked out on her within two weeks.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Charlotte shook her head. “To this day, she hasn't heard from him. They communicated completely through lawyers. He's remarried with three kids now.”

“How do you know?”

“Facebook.”

“Right.”

“I guess because of that or for whatever reason, Elizabeth blamed herself too. She's struggled with depression ever since. It took a huge toll on our family. That's why we all kind of tiptoe around her.” Charlotte sighed. “It also factors into why Charlie and I fight so often.”

“I don't get the connection.”

“Elizabeth depends on me, maybe a little too much. Charlie says it's unnatural. He thinks I never say no to anything when it comes to her. Including giving her money.”

“She's your
sister
.”

“That's what I tell him, but—if I'm being honest—he's right in some ways. He just doesn't have the best delivery in saying so.” Charlotte pulled her hair back into a bun. “The thing is, how can I not feel guilty?”

“Why guilty?”

“I had my own gorgeous, healthy baby girl one month
later. Talk about pouring salt on the wound. I may as well have ground it in.”

“It's not your fault you were pregnant too.”

“It doesn't matter whose fault it was. It was, as my mother put it, an unfortunate coincidence. I'm fairly certain Charlie felt the same way, even worse, liked he'd been stripped of the joys of first-time parenthood.”

When Gia had been born, there'd been subdued happiness from the entire family. Elizabeth hadn't been able to come to Charlotte's baby shower, or to visit her in the hospital. She hadn't even been able to meet Gia for the first few months. Elizabeth had gotten a free pass on everything, understandably, even though it had still hurt Charlotte on some level. Gia represented the child Elizabeth had lost and everyone knew it. And, after that, Elizabeth had become sort of like Charlotte's second child. Sure, she loved her niece, but there was always an underlying sadness mixed with a measure of bitterness and entitlement.

“Can you guys go to counseling? You and Charlie . . .”

“He thinks therapists are for crazy people.”

“I used to feel the same way, until Jack died. My mother literally had to drag me into my therapist's office and sit in the waiting room during the first six months of appointments, until she and I were both confident I could make it there alone.”

“Can I borrow your mom?” Charlotte laughed feebly.

“Anytime. Free of charge!”

“So, not that I don't want to talk about my problems all day, but—off subject—I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Okay . . .”

“Charlie and I cochair the Wincourt school fund-raiser every year. Which, you know, means he gives money and I work my ass off!”

“Right.” Allison smiled.

“I have a meeting next week to discuss this year's theme, and I thought, wouldn't it be amazing if you could donate a piece of artwork that we can display and auction off at the gala, to raise money for the new baseball field and computer center.”