The Wives

‘Yes, Mom,’ Emily said. ‘But you can’t keep me from my adoring fans forever.’

The sound of a utensil clinking against crystal interrupted them. ‘Ladies! It’s that time!’ Ashley called out, beaming.

Everyone held aloft a drink and clinked. Miriam heard a woman behind her say quietly to another, ‘She spun for a girl with number three, and when that didn’t work, she had in vitro with this one. Why are we all acting like this is some sort of big surprise?’

‘Let’s have Christina open her gifts,’ Ashley announced. ‘Chris, which would you like to start with?’

Everyone turned to the gift table, which was surprisingly sparse. Miriam counted exactly three gifts, one of which she knew to be her own.

Christina ripped the card off the first box, which was wrapped in the most beautiful floral paper and tied with a bunch of live peonies. She read the card and, after announcing it was from her mother-in-law, opened the package to reveal a sterling silver rattle, baby spoon, and sippy cup.

‘And they’re engraved with Rose’s name,’ a thin woman in a Chanel skirt suit announced from her seat.

Christina blew her a kiss and then opened the second gift. ‘Oh, Marta, you shouldn’t have!’ she squealed, holding up a generic hooded-towel-and-washcloth set trimmed in itchy-looking pink lace. She motioned for the uniformed maid who had greeted the guests at the front door to enter the room, and the woman shyly approached. ‘I love it. Thank you so much!’ The housekeeper bent down for an awkward hug and then scurried away. Christina handed it off to Ashley. It was not monogrammed. It was not woven from Egyptian cotton. It did not originate in a French boutique. Even Miriam knew the chances that the towel or washcloth would ever so much as graze an inch of that baby’s skin were nil.

‘Here you go,’ Ashley chirped, handing over the last wrapped box: Miriam’s.

Christina quickly unwrapped it and revealed the contents to the crowd. Two pink onesies with zippers – Miriam had loved the zippers instead of snaps with her own babies – a coordinating newborn hat, and a pair of furry pink booties. ‘Oh, how precious. I love it! Miriam, thank you – that was so sweet.’

Christina seemed to appreciate and admire the outfit, and Miriam felt a wave of relief that she had chosen well. But where were everyone else’s gifts? Why was it only Miriam, the mother-in-law, and the maid?

A hush fell over the room. Christina looked eager, anticipatory.

‘Okay, ladies! The moment you’ve all been waiting for. It’s time for the group present!’ Ashley called as though she were the head cheerleader at a football game.

Only then did Miriam notice a gigantic pink sheet thrown over something large in the corner. A baby swing, she figured. Probably one of those new high-tech ones that you could control with your phone through an app and have it link to Spotify. Who knew these days? It could come with a camera or an aromatherapy diffuser, for all she knew.

‘So, this is from the rest of us,’ Ashley sang. ‘Because we know it’s only two weeks until you can work out again, and with four kiddos it might not be so easy to get to the studio, so … Ta-dah!’ And with a great flourish, Ashley yanked off the blanket to reveal a brand-new Peloton spin bike. Perched on a side table next to it, collected in a gigantic wire-mesh basket, were an extra set of clippable pedals, wireless headphones, sleek white spin shoes, a YETI water bottle, and a pile of Lululemon workout clothes so massive that it looked as though someone had purchased the store’s entire size-four stock.

‘Oh my God, it’s exactly what I was hoping for!’ Christina squealed with obvious delight. ‘Thank you! Each and every one of you! You are all just so amazing!’

The entire room clapped and cheered and lined up to receive their grateful hug.

‘Where’s the baby?’ Emily hissed. A little too loudly, Miriam thought. ‘Even in L.A. – which I previously thought was the most fucked-up place ever – women bring actual babies to a viewing party!’

Miriam was scanning the room when she felt her phone vibrate. Worried that it was one of the kid’s schools, she pulled it out. A meeting reminder. She’d set it when she first started working at Skadden so she never forgot the weekly lunch meeting, where the partners would take turns presenting their case updates to everyone else. Twelve-thirty on the dot, every Wednesday. She had hated that meeting, absolutely dreaded it, but for some reason, she had never deleted the automatic reminder. Now she looked around the beautiful room at all the beautiful plants and the stylish women, nibbling gourmet treats and sipping morning cocktails, and she felt a pang of yearning for that drab conference room with its droning partners and dry turkey club sandwiches. Only for a split second. But still.

Emily raised her champagne glass. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine sipping and not seeing, but good God.’

They were interrupted by Ashley, who was cradling an armful of the most sumptuous-looking cashmere blankets in a very tender way.

‘Oh! Is that baby Rose?’ Miriam cried, moving closer for a peek just as Emily stepped away.

Ashley looked confused. ‘What? Oh, this?’ She tossed the pile on the couch, and both women gasped. Ashley stared at Miriam and Emily as if they were crazy. ‘Those are gifts.’

‘Got it,’ Miriam said.

‘Listen, do you two have a minute? It would be so great if you could help me hand out the favors. We had white S’well water bottles personalized with “Rose,” and we had them wrapped with a bottle of Whispering Angel for each guest. Get it? Rose and Rosé? They’re so cute.’

‘Got to keep our sip going,’ Emily said, raising her eyebrows in Miriam’s direction.

Miriam shot Emily a warning look and turned to Ashley. ‘Of course. We would love to help.’

9

My Romantic Relationship

KAROLINA

Karolina was sick of playing the good girl. What the hell had Trip done other than remind her that she had no rights? She was still in limbo and without any substantive information. How long was she expected to hide away in Greenwich, playing nicely, as instructed, in hopes of seeing Harry?

She could not get out of bed. Her comforter was made from eiderdown, but it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. As did her legs, which felt barely strong enough to take her the ten feet to the bathroom. She hadn’t showered in two full days and nights; there was stubble in unacceptable places and a furry feeling to her tongue. She knew this was depression. She’d had a bout with it during her endless struggle to conceive, but this felt ten times worse.

Since even holding the remote was too exhausting, Karolina couldn’t turn off CNN, where it was obviously a slow-news day because they were looping coverage on the new health care bill Graham was spearheading. So-called experts on both side of the bill kept appearing and disappearing from Anderson Cooper’s table, arguing whether the bill would singlehandedly save or disastrously ruin the United States for all eternity. She had watched it four times over now. No one said anything new or interesting. She would so much rather be watching Ellen or Bravo or nothing at all, but the remote was lost somewhere in the impossibly heavy comforter, and it would take too much energy to find it. Exhausted, Karolina stared at the hideous modern light fixture Graham had chosen when they bought the house. The sleek automated blinds made the room feel about as warm as a hospital ward. One day, if she could ever find the motivation, she would rip them out and everything else too.

Karolina didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until she awoke to the sound of Graham’s voice.

‘Graham?’ she nearly shouted, bolting upright faster than she’d thought possible.

He didn’t answer. Karolina looked around the room, but all was just as she had left it. And then she saw him: alone at Anderson Cooper’s table, the rest of the talking heads cleared out so the man himself could have the full stage.

‘I hear what you’re saying, Anderson, I do,’ Graham said, nodding gravely. ‘And that’s a concern for me as well – and all Americans. But now is the time for us to put our hesitation and fear aside and do what we all know is right.’

Karolina collapsed back against her pillows and exhaled. When had he gotten that suit? She bought all of his clothes, and she was certain she’d never seen that one before. Even more irritatingly, it looked great on him.

The show went to commercial break, and Karolina made a serious attempt to find the remote – no one should have to endure the sight and sound of her estranged husband on television while trying to wallow in self-pity. It had been nearly three weeks since she’d seen him, but it felt like three years.

‘If you’re just joining us, I’m here with Senator Graham Hartwell, the junior Democratic senator from the state of New York and the sponsor of the Hartwell–Connolly Bill. Senator, thanks for joining me.’

‘Always a pleasure, Anderson.’ Graham offered an easy smile. He was completely comfortable on live national TV. Hell, he was completely comfortable everywhere.

‘So, before the break we were discussing the impact the Hartwell–Connolly Bill will have on a specific population. How will your bill offer protection when Republicans want mental health and addiction provisions removed from standard coverage?’

Graham appeared to consider. ‘Well, you know, Anderson, I think Americans are more concerned about mental health and addiction than those of us in Washington would like to think. Take my own personal situation, for example. As you may have heard, my wife got in some serious trouble earlier this month.’

The camera zoomed in on Anderson’s face, which registered shock and then unbridled joy, in that order. Had the senator just willingly brought up his famous wife’s very notorious DUI? Had he actually uttered the words ‘as you may have heard’ to address the single most covered topic in the United States so far in the month of January? Was there a political pundit or journalist or comedian or talk show host or news anchor or gossip columnist who hadn’t commented on Karolina’s run-in with the law? Jimmy Fallon had dedicated an entire opening monologue to it.

Anderson collected himself – it wasn’t easy to surprise the Silver Fox, and if the circumstances had been different, Karolina would have admired Graham for it. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, his voice reflecting the gravitas of the situation. ‘I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.’

‘Most certainly not. My wife is very ill. It’s taken me a long time to understand that alcoholism is an illness, but I do now. That said, she has had every opportunity to get help – certainly many more chances than the average American ever has, I recognize that – but still she continues on with this risky behavior. I’ve tried to help her for many years. If it were just me …’ Graham allowed his voice to trail off, and the average viewer couldn’t be blamed for thinking he was actually choked up.

It had felt difficult to move before, as if she were swimming in a resistance pool, but now Karolina’s entire body felt paralyzed, and her brain had ceased processing certain words. Illness? Alcoholism? Risky behavior?

‘I’m … sorry?’ Anderson said, newly flustered. Had there ever in his entire career been a guest – a United States Senator, no less – who had so willingly broached the subject of his deliciously salacious personal life?

‘But it’s not only about me. I have to consider my son. I would be remiss as a father if I allowed my romantic relationship to further put my child at risk.’

A howl escaped from Karolina’s lips. Had she just made that noise? Had Graham just called their ten-year marriage his romantic relationship? And referred to Harry as his son and not theirs?

Anderson cleared his throat. He looked edgy, like a hunting lion about to strike. ‘Are you saying that your marriage—’

Graham clenched his hands together and stared solemnly at his lap. ‘You make all sorts of exceptions for the people you love. But I no longer see a path forward for us.’

‘I see,’ Anderson said, although he clearly did not.

‘Does anyone remember you were talking about the fucking Hartwell–Connolly Bill?’ Karolina screamed.

It was as though Anderson heard her through the TV. He said, ‘I have to take a quick break, Senator. I hope you’ll stay with me to discuss this – and everything else – in further detail?’

Graham nodded. ‘Of course, Anderson. I’d be happy to.’

Her phone rang immediately. It was her former agent, Rebecca, the woman who had mentored her through all her top years of modeling. Karolina knew Rebecca always kept CNN running in the background of her office, had done so for years, and clearly she was watching the Graham interview. As Karolina was debating whether or not to answer, it went to voicemail. A call from her aunt quickly followed. After sending that one and the next two directly to voicemail, Karolina switched off her phone. She yanked back the covers to climb back in bed and almost sat directly on an apple-sized spot of bright red blood. One glance down at her stained-through underwear confirmed it. How had she not even realized?

Sighing heavily, Karolina stripped in the bathroom, threw her soiled clothes into a sink full of cold water, and climbed into the shower. Although it required superhuman amounts of strength, she grudgingly scrubbed and shaved all the parts that needed attention and wrapped herself in a massive Frette bath sheet. It wasn’t until she went to pull on a pair of fresh underwear and clean flannel PJ pants that she discovered she was fresh out of tampons.

‘Christ,’ she muttered, stuffing a wad of toilet paper in her underwear the way she used to do in middle school when she found herself without supplies.

It wasn’t even five in the afternoon, but she was entirely alone: the caretaker couple had already called twice to ask if she needed them to return, but Karolina had insisted that she was fine by herself. A local woman came a couple mornings a week to clean, but she didn’t come on Fridays. With no choice but to actually leave her house, Karolina padded to the kitchen. Unable to resist, she swiped open her email on her iPad and scrolled through the new messages. She didn’t make it past the first one, a note from her aunt that contained only two items: an attached photo with a long chain of question marks preceding it. The quality was grainy, since her aunt had taken a picture of the picture using her phone and then emailed it – surely on the lowest resolution – to Karolina, but it didn’t take long to make out the players. Seated at Capitol Prime in D.C., known as the power lunch place for politicos, were Trip, Graham, and Joseph, Graham’s chief of staff. The interesting addition was the striking woman seated to Graham’s left. Regan. The Ice Queen. The camera caught her only in profile, but she was gazing at Graham while tossing her head back slightly and laughing. Graham was cutting his food and grinning a smile much wider than his grilled salmon probably warranted. All four wore business suits. To the normal onlooker, it appeared to be exactly like it was: a business lunch among colleagues. Your average Joe would not look at that photo and immediately think, Those two are fucking,

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