When we reached his studio there was a pair of teenage girls whispering on Ian’s couch, little ghosts of our past selves. When they saw us they hurried out, still giggling and whispering.
“You can stay,” Lacie called after them, but they were gone. “They looked like high-schoolers,” she added. “What are they doing out so late?”
I was too distracted to answer. For the open house Ian had draped his studio with swaths of velvety pink and Prussian-blue fabric, the better to show off his spindly gold sculpture, great architectural models of dream homes that could never be. “They’re beautiful,” I breathed.
“Oh, yeah. Haven’t you seen his work before?” Lacie got out her phone. “Where is he? He said he’d be a little late.”
Until then, I had only seen his work in little glimpses. He was protective of his creations, and usually kept them covered, but now I could look all I wanted. I approached a teepee, maybe a foot high, that swirled upward without a lid, like a cone that never closed; it made me imagine the night sky, navy etched with silver.
This is art, I thought, but that was mean, and I didn’t even believe it: what Lacie had made was art too. I knew it, but I was simmering, not exactly with anger but with the growing conviction that I didn’t know her at all.
“Come on, let’s sit on the couch.”
We collapsed onto the sagging plum monstrosity, and Lacie started talking to me, fluidly and rapidly, pulling at my arm to keep my attention, while I darted surreptitious glances, trying to see more of Ian’s dream models.
We passed her silver flask between us, giggling at the dark figures that hesitated at the door, safe inside the insular cape of our company. Soon, drinking, I forgot about Ian and his sculpture, which seemed, the more I drank, annoyingly cerebral anyway. What I wanted was more: more Lacie, more intimacy, more us. In a conversational lull I took her hand. Uncurling her fist, I said, “You know what I was thinking about today? Remember the letter you wrote me the first time you had sex?”
She laughed. “I never did that.”
“You wrote me a letter. It was really sweet. ‘Today the grass grew and Leo and I had sex.’ Don’t you remember?”
“No way.” She nestled her head against me. “Were we apart or something?”
“No, I think we were just—young enough that sex felt hard to talk about. That’s all.” She looked skeptical. “We were really young. Nobody now is ever that young.”
“Why were you thinking about all of this?”
“I don’t know, just thinking about Isabel.” Lacie’s eyes flickered dead with boredom, but I couldn’t help myself. “She’s so sexualized. Before she even knows what it is, she’s in it.”
“I’m sure she knows what sex is.” There it was, the way she cut between warmth and irony. It drove men wild; it drove me wild too.
“I think we had a code,” I said loudly. “Didn’t we have a code? I think we had a virginity code. God. Remember when we used to walk to the Acme and get those vegan moon pies? I thought they were the most delicious things in the world.”
“Why are you talking about this?”
“It just seems like we fell out of time.” My tongue was not so agile in my mouth.
“Yeah. Did we really eat that stuff? It sounds disgusting now.” She smiled, puzzled, but happy to see me happy.
“We’ve been friends for so long. What is it, like twenty years? It’s just so crazy. Am I even twenty years old?”
She bobbed my nose. “Square dance. Gym class.”
“You mean so much to me, and we’re just so close. That’s it. Nothing can break that. I mean, how many people do you know who are actually close to their elementary school friends? Nobody. But here we are. I mean, even when I sleep with Ian, it doesn’t change the basic fact of the situation.”
“Even when you…” she said in a dazed, wondering tone.
A flower of frantic love was blooming in my chest; it was imperative that Lacie understand how much she meant to me. “You know?” I said eagerly. “We’ve just transcended all of that.”
Abruptly she scrambled back on the saggy couch cushions. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was dangerous.
“Well, it’s not like it’s changed anything.”
“What hasn’t changed anything?”
Some of my wine and whiskey buzz dissipated. “Don’t you know?” I said more quietly. Over by the night teepee, a couple was circling; I could feel them listening, even as they pretended deep engagement with Ian’s art.
“Know what?”
“Know…” But I could see by her face that she didn’t—and then she did. “Oh my God.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “What? Really, Rose? Really?”
Just then the warm, full roll of Ian’s laughter came dancing into the studio, noise from another planet. Lacie’s face was a crumbling wall, a dam bursting. “Ian’s here,” she murmured, and reached out, as if to pat my hand. Then she thought better of it, got to her feet, and left.
I snuck a glance at the couple. They immediately averted their eyes. “Fuckers,” I muttered, and they scrammed. I sat there like a bug for I don’t know how long, thinking—what? At least it’s done? Yes. I was strangely elated, in a clean, shocked way, the way a wound is clean before it begins to bleed.
My cell phone rang. I pressed it to my ear and bleated, “Hello!”
“Rose? Ervin West here.” He spoke in a sadly automatic tone. Alone in his dark and dustless office, he must be cupping the big flat iPhone to his ear, watching the squares of yellow light in the luxury building across the street. “I want to have a conversation with you about how you’ve been speaking to Isabel.”
“How have I been speaking to Isabel?” I watched Lacie speak to Ian as if that would give me a clue. She had him backed against a wall, and their heads were close. There was something sexy, bright and flaming, in her anger.
“I understand you told her that I’m stealing her adolescence from her. I’m just wondering what you meant by that.” He sounded pleasantly inquiring. Was this how he spoke to the feds?
“It’s complicated.” I swirled my hand to indicate complicated.
“What the fuck,” I heard Lacie moan.
“Well.” Ervin cleared his throat. “I don’t understand how you can call yourself an educator and then undermine the whole project of education.”
“I wasn’t—what do you mean?” Ian kept looking my way. Then he said something to Lacie, and the two of them turned and speed-walked out.