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“Lovely,” he said. “Thanks for that.” He moved toward the door. “Does this mean we're done?”
“Done with this conversation?” she asked, standing up, holding on to the edge of her desk. “Or done for good?”
“Why don't you tell me which you'd prefer?”
She looked down at her curled-up fingers and said again, “I don't care.”
“There's an answer, right there.” He shook his head. “All because of that stupid cat…”
“No,” she said. “Not really.”
He shrugged and his mouth twisted suddenly. She was touched to see that he was hurt. She let go of the desk and moved toward him but then he shifted abruptly and said, “You're pathetic, you know that? It's easy to love a kitten-all you have to do is stroke it and it'll purr. Forget about being challenged. Forget about being a good person. Just go pet something soft and let the rest of the world go to hell.”
She drew back instantly. “Just because you don't get it-”
“Oh, I get it,” he said. “We live in a world where mediocrity and stupidity are the norm. You're just joining the crowd.”
“God, you're full of yourself,” she said. “And wrong, too.”
“I’m not wrong, and that's what you can't stand.” He reached for the doorknob.
Lucy said suddenly, “I found out who was vandalizing your car, you know. And sending you all those e-mails and everything.”
He wheeled around. “Are you serious? Who?”
“I’ve known for weeks,” she said, “but I wasn't going to tell you.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because,” Lucy said, “I couldn't trust you to do the right thing.”
He took a step toward her. “You wouldn't know what the right thing was if it jumped up and bit you in the ass.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “I make a lot of mistakes. But at least I can admit it.”
“Congratulations,” he said. “You're a successful loser. How proud you must be.”
“Sure,” she said. “Whatever you say, James.”
He took a deep breath. “You know what? We're not going to do this. We still have to work together. And I respect you as a scientist. I always have and I always will.”
“Me too you,” she said.
“All right, then. Let's keep things on that level from now on.” A pause. “Will you tell me who it was?”
“No.”
He turned back to the door. “Goodbye, Lucy. Have a nice Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you. You, too.”
He left. Lucy leaned against her desk, feeling shaky and angry and like she wanted to cry. But she fought it and finished getting ready to go out. She was meeting Sari in half an hour at their favorite Thai restaurant. Sari would make her feel better. She always did.
They had to wait for a table, and by the time they were seated, she had already told Sari the whole story.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Sari said. “Breaking up is always rough.”
“But it was the right thing to do, right?”
“If it felt right to you-”
“Come on, Sari, don't give me that shit. Tell me the truth. You never really liked him, did you?”
“He was a little hard to take sometimes,” Sari said. “But he had a lot going for him. I could totally see the appeal.”
“On paper, he was perfect,” Lucy said. “He was everything I wanted.”
“Are you heartbroken?”
Lucy thought for a moment. “No.”
“Really not?”
“I only have eyes for David.”
Sari's eyebrows soared. “For David?”
“The kitten, not the guy,” Lucy said.
“The kitten? You named your kitten David?”
“Yeah. It was David's idea.” She had forgotten she wasn't going to tell Sari.
“That's cute,” Sari said. Her eyebrows still hadn't come back down. “Really. You named the cat after the guy who gave it to you. That's really adorable.”
“Shut up,” Lucy said.
“I’m sure it's not meaningful at all.”
“Shut up. It's not. He made me do it.”
“After giving you the gift of this pet you're crazy about and sleep with every night and broke up with your boyfriend over.”
“Shut up,” Lucy said.
The waitress came over and they ordered-pad thai for Sari, a shrimp salad for Lucy, with the dressing on the side.
“Anyone else on the horizon?” Sari asked after the waitress had left. “Like, for example, someone named David who's not a cat?”
“It's not like that with him,” Lucy said. “For one thing, he has a girlfriend. And, even if he didn't, I’m not attracted to him.”
“I think he's kind of cute.”
“He's a nerd,” Lucy said. “I dated enough nerds in college to last me a lifetime. I want to look across the pillow in the morning and be turned on.”
“I want to look across the pillow in the morning and not be alone,” Sari said. Then, “Oh, man, Luce, I’m sorry. I hate when people do that-make everything about themselves.”
“Nah, it was your turn anyway,” Lucy said. “You were looking a little sad when you got here. Everything okay?”
“I just got this e-mail from Jason Smith. He's pissed off that I stopped seeing Zack. And I feel guilty enough about it-” She made a face.
“You're too softhearted,” Lucy said. “That's your problem. You don't owe him anything, Sari.”
“I know. It's just-” She stopped. “Nothing. It's just nothing.”
The waitress came up then with their food. Both girls stared at their plates without eating for a moment. Sari slowly brought her water glass to her lips.
“Oh, shit,” Lucy said suddenly and savagely. “Oh, fuck, Sari!”
“What?” Sari said, so startled she almost dropped her glass. “What's wrong?”
“I just remembered-”
“What?”
“That fucking sweater,” she said. “I’ve been working on that fucking sweater forever and now I don't have a boyfriend to give it to anymore. Kathleen was right. I can't believe it, but she was right. Knitting a sweater for a guy curses the relationship.”
Sari laughed. “You scared me. I thought it was something a lot worse than that.”
“Do you know how many hours I’ve spent on that sweater?”
“Well, find a new boyfriend who's the same size,” Sari said. “Or… would it fit your father?”
“My father weighs three hundred pounds,” Lucy said. She poked at a piece of cucumber. “Hey, Sari?”
“What?”
“I think I really want to rip it all apart. Tear it to shreds.” She made fists out of her hands. “And then stomp on the last little bits of it. Come back with me and watch?”
“Throw in a glass of wine and I’m there.”
“I am never knitting anything for anyone ever again,” Lucy said. She cut a shrimp in half with one quick slash of her knife. “But don't tell Kathleen I said she was right.”
7.Unraveling
I
Kathleen woke up at seven a.m. on Thanksgiving morning and decided she'd been working in an office for too long-not since high school had her body been so trained to wake up early that she couldn't sleep in late, even on a holiday. But the end of all that early rising was in sight. One way or another, she figured her days at Porter and Wachtell were numbered. Maybe even in the single digits.
She hadn't decided yet if she would be leaving the company at some point soon because she was going to marry the owner's son or because she wasn't. The only thing she knew for sure about her future was that it wouldn't involve any more coffee pouring or errand ru
It was possible, she thought now, stretching and yawning on her airbed, that her loss of interest in the job proved that she hadn't changed and that she was still the same old Kathleen, easily bored and in search of the next new thrill. But she preferred to look at it as yet another sign of her budding maturity, that she could now assess a situation and accept calmly and rationally that what had once suited her no longer did.
Which was definitely true about her job.
The real question was whether it was also true about her love life.