The Smart One (15 page)

There was a point each morning (and this had been happening since the breakup) when Claire first woke up and didn’t remember what had happened. It was about a thirty-second window, give or take, when her mind was free of everything, when she didn’t think about the wedding’s being called off, about Doug’s moving out, about her mounting credit card debt, about moving home. It wasn’t that she forgot exactly—it was just that her mind didn’t remember right away, and for those seconds she felt normal. And then it all came rushing back in, her head filled up with the events of the past year, and she was embarrassed and horrified all over again, like it had all just occurred. She’d lie there as it happened, roll over so that her face was in her pillow, and start thinking about how she was going to undo everything, how she was going to go about fixing the mess that was her life.

At night, she would look at the stupid plastic stars and think,
What the hell was I thinking?
She let the thought run through her head over and over. She let herself repeat it, stressing different words each time—What
the hell was I thinking? What the
hell
was I thinking? What the hell was I
thinking?

Even the dog seemed confused by the situation. Ruby walked around
at night, poking her head into each room to make sure all of the family members were there. She’d go to look in Max’s room, staring at the bed as if she just wanted to make sure that he
wasn’t
there. When she came to Claire’s door, she’d perk up, her ears springing alive, and she’d wag her tail and come to greet her. But Ruby seemed overwhelmed by this change, and she’d sometimes tilt her head at Claire before leaving the room, sighing as she walked away to continue her inspection.

Claire’s first night home, Weezy made a special dinner and they all toasted, “Welcome back,” like Claire’s return was something to be celebrated, like it wasn’t a total failing of her attempt to live as a successful adult.

AT THE TEMP OFFICE, CLAIRE TOOK
a typing test and a computer proficiency test. The woman kept looking up at Claire and then back down at the résumé like it was going to answer the question of why Claire was here in the first place.

“Now, why did you leave your last job again?” she asked.

“I’m looking for a change and I thought it would be easier to figure out what I wanted to do if I took some time off and moved back home for a little while.” Claire had said this exact sentence to her about four times now. She was pretty sure the woman thought she was lying.

“Well, we shouldn’t have any trouble placing you. There’s a spot I’m thinking about that’s just a three-month placement.”

“That would be great. I’m not looking for a permanent job.”

“Right.” The woman nodded. She looked again like she didn’t believe Claire. “Well, I think it would be a great fit. It starts in a week or two, and I can get you in there to meet them tomorrow if that works?”

Claire nodded. They set up the appointment and shook hands. Then Claire went back home, took off her skirt and jacket, put on pajama pants, and got back into bed.

WEEZY WAS TRYING TO BE HELPFUL,
but it was getting on Claire’s nerves. Which of course made her feel awful, since Weezy had been so nice about everything, had accepted Claire back home like it was no big deal. But still, every time Weezy asked about her plans or asked her how she was feeling, Claire thought she was going to lose it.

The morning that Claire was scheduled to meet with the office, she and Weezy sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee together in their pajamas.

“Are you nervous?” Weezy asked.

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“No. It’s not a real job. It’s just a temp job.”

“Still,” Weezy said. “It can be scary to interview.”

“I guess.”

“You know,” Weezy said, “there are so many kids your age that have moved back home. Remember Mark Crowley? You went to first grade with him, but then he transferred to the public schools because he had all those learning problems? Well, anyway, I saw his mother in the grocery store last week and she told me that he’d lost his job in New York and moved home. Just like you.”

“I didn’t lose my job,” Claire said.

“Well, you don’t have one. You know what I mean,” Weezy said. Claire was sitting in her pajamas at ten thirty on a Tuesday morning, drinking coffee with her mom. Yes, it was pretty clear that she didn’t have a job.

“I’m just saying,” Weezy continued, “that it’s an epidemic, a trend. It’s the economy, of course, but still it’s interesting, isn’t it? All these adult children returning home again? Moving back in with their parents? It says something about this generation, I think. And our generation for welcoming you back.” Weezy looked off into the distance, thoughtful with this new revelation.

“You sound like Dad,” Claire said.

Weezy leaned forward in her chair and looked out the window at the house across the street. “For a while, I thought the younger Connors girl was living at home, but now I think she just stays there sometimes. I think she brings things to her parents, their groceries and all of that.”

“Hilary?” Claire asked. “Hilary still lives around here?”

Hilary and Sarah Connors had grown up across the street. They’d never been friends, but they knew each other and played with each other sometimes out of convenience. When Sarah went to college, she
started dating this boy and eventually dropped out. There were rumors that he was a drug dealer, but no one really knew what was happening. Then Sarah and her boyfriend went on a crime spree through a neighboring suburb, shooting a gas station clerk and robbing seven different people, before the two of them holed up in an old hardware store that had closed down. The police surrounded them, until they heard a gunshot and then they stormed in to find that Sarah had shot her boyfriend in the head. It made national news, and reporters and police cars were outside of the Connors’ house for months.

“I can’t believe they still live there,” Claire said. She looked out at the house, a normal two-story brick house with yellow awnings. It looked dark and quiet.

“It’s their home,” Weezy said. “They shouldn’t feel like they have to run away.”

“I would. I would leave the town, leave the whole state, probably go all the way across the country. I’d go somewhere where people didn’t recognize my name and my face. Wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“It has to be so miserable there. To stay in that house with all of those memories.”

“Maybe they remember the good things that happened there.”

“Would that really be what you remember?”

“Some people don’t have the tools to start over when something like that happens,” Weezy said. “Some people could, but other people—they just stop, and stay where they are and that’s that.”

“Sarah was always weird,” Claire said. It was the first thing that she and Martha had agreed on after the strange and tragic day happened. “She was always a little off,” Martha had said. Sarah had been a year ahead of Martha in school, and Hilary was a year younger than Claire. There was one picture of the four girls playing in the backyard one summer, all in bathing suits, laughing and running through the sprinkler. Claire couldn’t remember it.

“It was the drugs,” Weezy said. “She got mixed up with the wrong people.” They’d had this exact conversation dozens of times since the whole thing had happened, but somehow it never got old.

“I guess,” Claire said. “Poor Hilary.” She imagined the girl grocery shopping, lugging bags over to the house that her parents didn’t leave. How creepy.

Sarah had once stolen a toy of Claire’s, a little plastic Care Bear that had been a Valentine’s Day present. Claire had asked Weezy if she could take it to school to show her friends, and Weezy said no, so Claire snuck it in her backpack in the morning. That night, when she realized that she’d forgotten it in her desk, she started to cry.

The next morning, Weezy walked into the classroom with her, assuring her that it would still be there, but it wasn’t. That day, on the playground, Sarah Connors had a little blue bear in her hand.

“That’s mine,” Claire yelled. She told the teachers, but no one could prove that Sarah had walked through the classroom and stolen the bear. She told Weezy that night, but there was nothing to be done.

“I told you not to take it to school,” Weezy said, as Claire cried. She was firm on this point, although when Claire woke up that Saturday, there was a new little blue bear on her nightstand.

But it wasn’t the same. Claire wanted the original bear, the one that had been taken. She hated the thought of it’s being at the Connors house, which was dirty and smelled like mothballs. “Your sister stole my bear,” she said to Hilary once. Hilary just shrugged and looked embarrassed. You couldn’t blame her, Claire knew. She couldn’t pick who her sister was.

CLAIRE PUT ON THE SAME OUTFIT
that she’d worn to the temp interview and drove to the office of Proof Perfect, where she was set to meet the woman she’d be filling in for and a few others.

Amanda Liebman met her at the elevator, looking like she was about to give birth right there in the front lobby. She had both of her hands on her back, and was red in the face. “Claire?” she asked. Claire nodded and Amanda puffed a little as she turned and motioned for Claire to follow.

Amanda sat at a desk at the front of the office. Behind her, on the wall, hung letters that spelled out
PROOF PERFECT
. There was a hallway to the right and left, but all the offices that Claire saw had their
doors closed. Once they were seated at her desk, Amanda seemed a little calmer. “I’m carrying around so much extra weight at this point that even standing feels impossible.”

Claire nodded again. “When are you due?”

“In two weeks, but I want to keep working up until the very end so that I can take all of my time with the baby. I’ve already saved up all my vacation and personal and sick days, which wasn’t easy, so I don’t want to waste it now just lying around and waiting.”

“Right.”

“So, my title is Office Manager and Senior Executive Assistant. Basically, that means that I answer the phones, and then do whatever the account managers want me to do, or don’t want to do for themselves. It’s a lot of Xeroxing and other random stuff. All the higher-up people have their own assistants, so you don’t have to worry about them.”

“Okay.”

“Some of the managers are a pain in the ass, but it’s not rocket science, so you’ll be fine.”

Amanda went on to show her the phones.

“So, will they let me know if I get the job?”

“Oh, you got it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Everyone else that comes in here wants a permanent job. They’re hoping to get placed here after this job is done. You’re the only one that wants it for what it is. So, congratulations, it’s yours.”

“Great,” Claire said. She wasn’t sure that it was.

Amanda started to get up to walk her to the elevator, but Claire told her she could get there on her own. She was just walking out into the lobby when Amanda called her name.

“One more thing,” she said. She stuck out her foot from behind the desk. “The dress code says no sandals, but my feet are too fat to wear any of my shoes right now, so fuck it. But if you come in wearing sandals, they’ll go ape shit.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

CLAIRE WENT OVER TO LAINIE’S
that night to drink wine. It was still pretty warm out, even at the end of September, and the two of them
sat on chairs on the porch, a bottle of wine between them. Brian was inside on the couch, asleep with his mouth open and the TV on.

She couldn’t get over the fact that Lainie lived with her husband and three children in a house that was down the street from where Claire grew up. How had this happened? Lainie became more adult every day, and Claire was back sleeping in her childhood bedroom.

“So you got a job already,” Lainie said. “That’s good news.” She held up her glass and Claire clinked it, then the two of them drank.

“I guess so. The thing is I don’t start until this lady has her baby. It could be tomorrow or it could be in three weeks, which sort of sucks.”

“Then just relax. You’ve been not working for like a week. You should sleep in and enjoy yourself.”

“I can’t. At least not in that house. I just feel like I should be doing something, not sitting around all day with my parents and Martha. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Really? It sounds amazing. You can do whatever you want.” Lainie had grown up in the middle of five sisters, who shared everything from underwear to makeup. She’d never had her own room, and Claire was pretty sure she’d never want to.

“It’s not. It’s just really boring. All I want is to not stay there all day.”

Lainie looked sideways at her. “Do you want to babysit?”

“For you?”

“Yeah, for me. Our nanny’s mom is sick and she’s going home for a couple of weeks. I was going to ask Kristen to do it, and then get my mom and Brian’s mom to fill in, but if you’re really looking for something to do, that would be awesome. It’s just for the mornings, mostly, and some early afternoons.”

“Sure,” Claire said. “Why not?” She hadn’t babysat in years.

“Great,” Lainie said. She smiled and sat back like she’d figured everything out. “Plus I’ll give you free classes at the studio.”

“You already do that.”

“Yeah, but now you’ll really earn it.”

CLAIRE HAD FORGOTTEN HOW BORING
babysitting actually was. She’d blocked out the way that when a four-year-old is building a tower out
of blocks, sometimes all you can do is keep looking at the clock, sure it’s standing still or maybe even going backward. Babysitting could be so quiet, so devoid of conversation, and just when she thought she’d go crazy, it became loud, a fever pitch of whines and screams and toys hitting the floor.

Claire remembered babysitting for Bobby Foley once, the summer he was obsessed with Pokemon, and they’d been sitting on the floor in his bedroom playing. He started showing her all the Pokemon cards that he had, explaining to her the difference between the characters, how some could fly and some could run fast, and she’d been nodding and then just lay down on the floor while he went on, seriously, ranking his favorites, telling her what who would win in a fight.