older than Clary, and although she had never done things with Clary out of charity, she had done things with her out of pleasure, and that counted for something. Both Clary and Nell loved horror movies, which Marlow considered trash. Whenever they had a chance that first summer, they would go off together to sit munching popcorn and squeezing each other’s arms while vampires or zombies or man-eating wasps terrorized the world. They loved the psychos best. They loved being scared. They loved playing games together, too. Nell was always glad when it was summer and Clary was there to play with, for Marlow was always too intense and busy to settle down to what he considered childish activities. Nell and Clary spent their summers playing Clue, checkers, card games, elaborate games of Monopoly that went on for days. These were frivolous acts, Nell later realized, not the sort of enterprise shared by parent and child. But, Nell also realized, they were the sort of thing shared by friends, and over the years that was what Clary and Nell became.
Clary was in college when Nell’s children were born and she worked all summer to make money for college, so Nell and Marlow saw very little of Clary those four years. The summer Clary graduated with a degree in biology, she came up once to visit her father and his family. In spite of the years of friendship between Nell and Clary, that visit had been a disappointment.
It was the last year of Marlow and Nell’s marriage, although they did not know that yet, and the air between them was tense with unadmitted anger. Clary could stay only two days, and both those days Hannah and Jeremy, then two and four, were sick with a ghastly intestinal flu. Nell was tired, overweight, and generally miserable. But she was so excited about seeing Clary that she shampooed her hair, put on makeup, and stuffed herself into her best dress. The moment she heard Clary’s car pull into the driveway, she grabbed the wailing, sick Hannah from her crib and raced to the top of the stairs.
She stood on the landing a moment, just looking at Clary, who had come in thedoor and was kissing her father and who looked, all of a sudden, grown-up and devastatingly lovely. Clary had had her thick blond hair cut Dutch-boy style and it swung evenly at her shoulders, making her seem substantial and decisive, a woman who knew what she wanted. The blunt bangs across her forehead accentuated Clary’s dark brows and eyes. She turned, and looked up at Nell with a frank, almost stern look. Nell knew at once that Clary had become a person to be reckoned with in the world.
Nell was so glad to see her, this person who was part child of hers, part friend, and she started down the stairs, hoping she looked at least not dowdy in her blue dress.
“Clary!” she called.
And at that moment poor Hannah, who was in Nell’s arms, threw up. Thick white vomit erupted from the sick baby’s mouth and flowed in a milky waterfall down Nell’s dress and, as Nell watched, down one step and the next step and the next. Warm acid-smelling liquid coated Nell’s arm and dress. Hannah cried and choked. Nell had to comfort and clean her poor daughter, then turn to the stairs. The thick vomit had soaked the carpet. It was not an easy task cleaning up the mess.
The visit did not much improve from that moment. Clary seemed to Nell to have become elegant, self-sufficient, and haughty. She was impressed with herself for gaining a degree in biology, and she talked endlessly about the experiments she was doing on gypsy moth research at a lab in Connecticut. She was doing important work in the world.
Nell scrubbed the carpeted stairs, fixed and served dinner, tended to sick children, and listened to Clary when she had the chance, but as each moment passed, Nell felt more and more hopeless. She thought she must look such a drudge to Clary. She envied Clary’s flat stomach, trim hips, smooth skin. She envied Clary her youth, her freedom, her clothes; she
Clary was in college when Nell’s children were born and she worked all summer to make money for college, so Nell and Marlow saw very little of Clary those four years. The summer Clary graduated with a degree in biology, she came up once to visit her father and his family. In spite of the years of friendship between Nell and Clary, that visit had been a disappointment.
It was the last year of Marlow and Nell’s marriage, although they did not know that yet, and the air between them was tense with unadmitted anger. Clary could stay only two days, and both those days Hannah and Jeremy, then two and four, were sick with a ghastly intestinal flu. Nell was tired, overweight, and generally miserable. But she was so excited about seeing Clary that she shampooed her hair, put on makeup, and stuffed herself into her best dress. The moment she heard Clary’s car pull into the driveway, she grabbed the wailing, sick Hannah from her crib and raced to the top of the stairs.
She stood on the landing a moment, just looking at Clary, who had come in thedoor and was kissing her father and who looked, all of a sudden, grown-up and devastatingly lovely. Clary had had her thick blond hair cut Dutch-boy style and it swung evenly at her shoulders, making her seem substantial and decisive, a woman who knew what she wanted. The blunt bangs across her forehead accentuated Clary’s dark brows and eyes. She turned, and looked up at Nell with a frank, almost stern look. Nell knew at once that Clary had become a person to be reckoned with in the world.
Nell was so glad to see her, this person who was part child of hers, part friend, and she started down the stairs, hoping she looked at least not dowdy in her blue dress.
“Clary!” she called.
And at that moment poor Hannah, who was in Nell’s arms, threw up. Thick white vomit erupted from the sick baby’s mouth and flowed in a milky waterfall down Nell’s dress and, as Nell watched, down one step and the next step and the next. Warm acid-smelling liquid coated Nell’s arm and dress. Hannah cried and choked. Nell had to comfort and clean her poor daughter, then turn to the stairs. The thick vomit had soaked the carpet. It was not an easy task cleaning up the mess.
The visit did not much improve from that moment. Clary seemed to Nell to have become elegant, self-sufficient, and haughty. She was impressed with herself for gaining a degree in biology, and she talked endlessly about the experiments she was doing on gypsy moth research at a lab in Connecticut. She was doing important work in the world.
Nell scrubbed the carpeted stairs, fixed and served dinner, tended to sick children, and listened to Clary when she had the chance, but as each moment passed, Nell felt more and more hopeless. She thought she must look such a drudge to Clary. She envied Clary’s flat stomach, trim hips, smooth skin. She envied Clary her youth, her freedom, her clothes; she
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