Love Is a Canoe: A Novel (11 page)

Ida said, “Yeah, so what’s your deal? What else do you do when you’re not forecasting the future?”

“Oh, god. I don’t know. And that’s not really what I do. I’m just a consultant. It’s stupid.”

“Don’t tell anybody, but the truth is I hate innovative people. Not you, but, like, inventors.”

Emily laughed and looked down. Ida was wearing a pleated green skirt and high black boots covered with a sea of maroon beads—she’d seen those beads on a pair of Miu Miu pumps last spring and wished boots could be beaded that way. And here they were: her dream boots, existing in reality, on Ida’s feet where they looked even more perfect with just a few beads carelessly knocked off.

“I love your boots,” Emily said.

“These? I got them at Century. Thanks. Anyway, what are you doing here? I know Steven and Rick. They did a film option for me with this Uruguayan filmmaker. So now I show up at their stuff. They don’t make me donate.”

“Actually I’m here because—” But Emily let Ida cut her off.

“You know I got married?” Ida nodded and Emily could tell that Ida was still trying to get comfortable with the words. “Yeah, about two years ago.”

“Is your husband here?”

“Lord, no. Billy hates this stuff. He’s a trader and on the side he writes a newsletter about the World Bank. He wants us to move to D.C. but it’s not happening. I hate that town. In Brooklyn, I’m a face in the crowd. Every time I go down to D.C. somebody tries to pin a medal on me.”

“That sounds cool.” Emily imagined Ida and her genius husband at balls at the Watergate Hotel and parties in the bowling alley at the White House with powerful speechwriters and lobbyists for international trade organizations. She was sure they stayed up late in bed afterward and laughed and gossiped together. Eli sucked at gossip.

“It’s not cool,” Ida said. “It’s boring. But whatever, it’s my fault. I love him. I married him. So he’s home and I’m at this random thing. I see your ring. Who’d you marry?”

“Um,” Emily said, and then she just shook her head and closed her eyes. “Eli,” Emily said with a shrug. “Eli Corelli.”

“What?” Ida asked. “You’re married to Eli? I am so, so sorry I didn’t make the connection!”

“How could you,” Emily said. “I’m standing here and I don’t even know where he is.” Emily worried that she was hovering over Ida so she gave her some space. But Ida moved closer. They both leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, with just inches between them. Everybody else had to maneuver around them. Emily could see that Ida so did not care.

“Wow, everybody loves your guy.”

“True,” Emily said. “Wait, who’s he with now?”

Eli was in the living room with the actress and her husband. The three of them were huddled in front of an enormous black marble fireplace. Eli had someone else’s banjo in his hands.

“Looks like Trent Norman and Genevieve Winslow-Homer.”

“That’s her name,” Emily said. “I kept forgetting it.”

“You forget it because she stole it from a famous artist and if you’re anything like me that disgusts you. Her actual name is Jennifer Puddle or something. I see her at yoga. She has flexible hips.”

“Where do you go?”

“Kula.”

“I never see you there,” Emily said. “I’ve been doing a lot of yoga lately.”

“I do yoga in binges,” Ida said. “Sometimes constantly. Sometimes not at all.”

“He didn’t tell me he was going to perform,” Emily said.

Genevieve had long blond hair, tiny lips, and normal eyes. Nothing special there. Still, she was beautiful. So was her husband.

“Maybe the camera finds something in her that I can’t see,” Emily said.

“You’re too kind.”

The actress stood between Eli and her husband and began nodding her head. Trent snapped his fingers. He and Eli looked like bandmates, with their plaid shirts and jeans and longish unkempt hair. Trent had a child’s bongo cradled in the crook of his arm.

“Everybody get ready!” Trent called out.

“Are you okay?” Ida asked. “You look a little trembly.”

“I’m fine. I bet they’re going to announce his new nonprofit now.”

“Everybody ready?” Eli yelled. The room nodded back at him.

“Wait, Jenny, come in front,” Genevieve called out.

Emily felt a stab of something cold between her ribs, as if someone had slipped a piece of ice down her shirt. While Emily and Ida watched, Jenny Alexandretti appeared out of nowhere and made it a foursome. Her dark ringlets were longer than Emily remembered and she had no bra on under her purple dress so she was bouncing all around. Her breasts seemed bigger, too. Everything about her looked bigger than when Emily had first seen her and thought of her as a wet mouse who needed care.

“Anybody seen my wife?” Eli said.

“Emily Babson?” Jenny called out. “Are you out there?”

“You should go to them,” Ida said.

“He’s just doing that for show. He knows I’d rather die than stand in front of all these people.” Emily held her glass with both hands and took a deep breath.

“Hang on,” Eli yelled. He parted the crowd and came straight for Emily. “Please?” he asked, when he got to her. “I need you.”

“I’ll hold your glass,” Ida said, and took it away from Emily.

“Don’t move, please,” said Emily, looking at Ida. “I need to come back to you.”

Emily arrived at the front of the room. She had her back to the crowd and she was staring at Trent, tiny-faced Genevieve, and Jenny.

“Honey, turn around. Stand here next to me,” Eli said.

“The work wife makes way for the real wife,” Jenny whispered loudly. She added a laugh, a
huh-huh
noise that felt very pointed and sexy to Emily. Very
I prefer men to women.

“Let’s get started,” Eli said. “We’re here to announce a new pro bono company.”

“What’s that company called?” Genevieve Winslow-Homer sang out.

The little group drew closer together. Jenny wrapped her arm around Emily.

Jenny said, “I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Emily said as her ribs contracted and she fought her urge to see if the tips of Jenny’s fingers were touching Eli’s back. But how could she know? They were all pressed up so close to one another.

“Urban Bicycle Advocacy!” Eli yelled.

“Yeah, UBA,” Jenny sang. “And what are we going to do?”

“Bike to the future!” The crowd called back. There might have been seventy people watching, all of them clapping hands and smiling.

Eli stepped forward and waved at the crowd. He said, “And I want to introduce you to the president of Urban Bicycle Advocacy, Jenny Alexandretti!”

And that was when Jenny bumped her. Jenny stepped forward and got her little ass around Emily. Then she bumped Emily so Emily was in the background, with her shoulder blades up against the mantel. It was a subtle move, a barely there knock on Emily’s thigh. Emily felt herself disappear, though she was still onstage. She decided she was imagining that she’d been pushed. But no. She could feel Jenny’s ass pressing against her, holding her back.

People began to clap. Jenny grabbed Eli’s arm and took a quick bow. Emily looked left and right but saw no way to escape.

“Thank you all. And may I thank the founder of UBA for my title?” Jenny called. There was more clapping.

“Oh, shit.” Emily had spoken out loud without meaning to. She covered her mouth. She looked at the back of the room and saw Ida gesture at her,
take it easy
.

“Can I hear you sing Urban Bicycle Advocacy,” Genevieve sang. The four of them stood as one in front of Emily, surging forward away from her to connect with the crowd.

Everyone tried to sing “Urban Bicycle Advocacy…” to the tune of Bob Marley’s “Get Up, Stand Up.” But it didn’t work at all and came out as more of a chant. Trent frowned and tried to find a rhythm on the bongo. A few people turned back toward the bar.

Emily watched Jenny grab Eli’s hand and squeeze it. She began to whisper, “UBA, UBA.” She used her other hand to bang on her hip. Emily shrank back from another kneading from Jenny’s ass.

Jenny wailed, “Oo-bah, Oo-bah…”

That got the crowd’s attention. Soon everybody jumped in, whispering, “UBA, UBA.”

Emily saw two guys who must have been Rick and Steven race down the stairs from the floor above with their arms full of maracas that Emily imagined they had collected over many trips to different parts of South America. They tossed them into the outstretched arms of the crowd.

Jenny caught a maraca and began shaking it. Genevieve did, too. Eli began manically playing the banjo and Trent was clapping and singing.

“Oo-bah, Oo-bah…”

Eli sang, “Clap your hands and stomp your feet!”

“Oo-bah, Oo-bah,” Emily mouthed. But she made no sound.

“Yeah, let’s all bike everywhere and put those cars to shame!”

“Faster!”

“Roman Street, Roman Street!”

Emily locked eyes with Ida and mouthed
stay there
.

Eli yelled, “Between all of you and Roman Street we can raise awareness for UBA and then we can all…”

“Bike to the future!” Genevieve and Jenny jumped in the air.

The cheers were loud and everyone tried dance in place without scuffing the rugs.

“Yay!” Jenny hopped on one foot. Then the four of them turned in to one another and did a high five that turned into a group hug while the crowd roared and then turned away, ready for more drinks and food. Emily was still stuck to the mantel.

“Join us,” Jenny said and flailed a hand at Emily, who shook her head no and motioned at the back of the room, as if to say, it’s okay, I’ve got somewhere over there where I have to be. Emily told herself she wasn’t running back to Ida, but she also felt like it couldn’t be helped if it looked that way. She walked quickly across the room and arrived at the doorway she’d been sharing with Ida.

“Thanks for sticking around.”

“It didn’t look so bad,” Ida said with a smile. And Emily was shocked because she’d imagined it hadn’t looked any way at all, and now she knew it must have looked awful. She closed her eyes and swayed and then felt Ida wrap an arm around her back.

“I’m okay,” Emily whispered. “Look, I don’t want to monopolize you. You must have other friends here.” If Ida left her she would find a bathroom and lock herself in and cry. Her paperback copy of
Canoe
was in her purse. She would lock herself up with it for five sweet minutes and read the square dancing chapter and cry and then she would either feel better or slip out to the street without anyone noticing and cry some more.

“Emily. Hey, Emily?” Emily opened her eyes, and looked at Ida. She loved that Ida’s huge eyes were glittering. “I’m filling in the blanks. He made her president without telling you? Is that what it is?”

“No, worse. He has a thing with that woman, Jenny. I’m sure of it.”

“Hang on,” Ida said. She reached around the doorway and came back with a sweating bottle of white wine. She had the cork out in a moment and was refilling their glasses. “It can’t have gone that far if they pulled you in like that. They must want you to, like, interrupt it. I’ve been there. Me and Billy. We’re a good team. It took a long time to get there, though. Other people flirt with you and you flirt back. You get in a fight over something stupid and you don’t have sex for two straight weeks. It happens. But your husband—I can see that he wants you. He’s just a little overexcited, with all the focus that’s on him.”

“He always gets attention. And we never had problems before but now you’re saying even if…”

“Yes, even if,” Ida said. “I think he’s looking for you right now.”

Emily turned her back to the room. She said, “I can’t believe I just found out what’s happening with my husband’s business in a sing-along. Did you see her bump me?”

“She is a frisky little thing. He’s coming this way,” Ida said.

“You don’t want to be here for this,” Emily said. She tried but couldn’t keep her cheeks and mouth from tugging down.

“Wasn’t that amazing?” Eli called out.

Emily gulped and clamped a hand over the bottom of her face before turning toward her husband.

“What’d you think? I know. Goofy, right?” Eli looked at their full glasses. “Can I get you two some food? Cheese? I was talking to the caterers earlier and they’ve got some great little things coming out now, on platters.”

“Yeah, Eli. Really great.” Emily fought to keep her voice flat. “I’m just talking to Ida here. She’s a friend from college.”

Eli pushed his hair back and then shook hands with Ida. He said, “Ida, really nice to meet you.”

“Congratulations on Roman Street and the new thing,” Ida said. Eli nodded.

“We wanted you to be involved,” Eli said to Emily. “I’m happy you got up there with us.”

“And I’m surprised you’re so far along with this new company. UBA? And Jenny is the president?”

“Yeah. I told you that. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“You didn’t.” She gave up and let the anger show on her face. “I think we need to go somewhere and talk,” Emily said.

Someone called Eli’s name but he kept staring at his wife.

“Well, I’ve been trying to tell you about it. The final structure is barely three weeks old. And we just came up with a title for Jenny this afternoon, as, like, a thank-you. You know, ’cause we can’t pay a lot because it’s nonprofit but we can hand over this big title.” Eli tried a laugh. “Don’t you think that’s smart?”

“There’s a garden.” Ida touched Emily’s shoulder. “You go straight out that way, through the kitchen.” Ida’s eyes were impossibly wide and she looked straight at Emily. “It was good to see you. Let’s get drinks soon and we can talk more.”

“I would love that,” Emily said. “I’ll e-mail you.”

“I have to go back to the party now,” Eli said.

“Wait,” Emily said to Eli. She gripped his arm. “We need to talk more.” She hugged Ida goodbye without letting go of Eli. “The garden. Let’s go there now.”

“Why?” Eli asked. “Why now?”

Emily pulled at Eli’s hand and whispered, “Give me five minutes.”

“Okay, okay.”

They walked quickly through the kitchen, past the waiters who were laying out trays of chicken satay and topping triangles of toast with beef or cheese and an asparagus tip, and down the iron-railed steps into the dark garden. Emily shivered in the sudden cool of the empty garden and wished she hadn’t given away her coat. The garden was long and rectangular and made up of two blue slate paths and wooden benches and little trees. She could hear cars rushing by on Greene Avenue. Emily found her footing and faced her husband.