“He was here this morning,” Ella said.
“And? How is Mr. Sex, Lies, and Videotape?”
“Irene didn’t cry this time when he held her. She can say ‘mama,’ but not ‘dada’ yet. He didn’t like that.”
“And how is he?” The idea of him holding Irene bothered Casey.
“He seems great. He’s happy,” she said flatly.
Ted had looked handsome and fit when he’d come by. She had already filed her divorce papers, and now he seemed set to start his new life with Delia. He was in love. She could tell. With plenty of bonus cash in the bank, Ted was planning to look for a position after the security camera stories died down to a murmur. The grainy film had caught perhaps two minutes of him and Delia having sex: a redheaded woman—her neck arched, hair flowing, white blouse open—straddling a tall Asian man seated in a desk chair. On the actual tape, Ted’s face wasn’t even visible, but both he and Delia were asked to resign.
That morning, Ted told Ella that he was considering opening his own shop doing some program trading, which he knew nothing about, or starting up a venture capital fund, which he knew a lot about. His ability to attract capital was still good, and his reputation as a banker remained irreproachable. His faithful friends from HBS assured him that the stories would pass and soon there’d be hearty backslapping complete with attaboys. He asked if she was still seeing Lorraine, her psychologist, and Ella had told him she was. Since Tina’s wedding, she had been seeing the therapist once a week on Thursdays after work.
“Are you doing okay?” Casey asked. “I mean, you know, with Ted visiting all of a sudden?”
“Uh-huh,” Ella said calmly. “I’m happy for Ted. It’s better this way. I think I can explain it to Irene that we married too young. And you know, I really like my work. Mr. Fitzsimmons is great, and David thinks I can definitely have my old development job back in the fall when the girl who took my place leaves in August.”
“How fantastic,” Casey said. She could hardly concentrate. “Do you think you’ll move back to the city soon?” Ella had been living there for eight months now.
“I’ve been thinking about it more and more. I think I want the house.”
“Good for you,” Casey said. “I say you fleece the bastard.”
“What are you holding in your hand?” Ella asked.
Casey looked at her left hand. It was the letter. “Oh my.” Casey stared at the boy’s face on the card, his crimson mouth pulsing. “Jay is getting married. How about that?”
“Oh, Casey. I’m. . . sorry. That can’t be easy.”
“I left him, right?” Casey said, blinking back her own tears. She missed him suddenly. So much—their first kiss at the movies, how he had looked at her with wonder beneath Blair Arch, the time he’d bought her the golf clubs—the pride shining in his happy eyes.
“Love doesn’t end,” Ella said.
Casey nodded. “I’m okay. Unu is terrific.” Her friend was suffering far more than she was. It seemed unfair to bring up Jay now.
“How’s his job search?”
Casey shrugged. “Get this.” She tried to change the subject. “Virginia thinks she’s pregnant! What is it with you Brearley girls? Getting knocked up so young. What’s the rush?”
Ella let Casey divert her, wondering if she loved Unu in the same way that she loved Jay Currie. Ella had never loved anyone like Ted. She didn’t believe that you could love anyone as much as your first. Whenever she felt angry about Ted, she contented herself with the belief that what Ted felt for Delia was somehow less than what they had. There had to be something for having been first.
Ella appeared distracted.
“And guess who the father is?” Casey tried to make light of it.
“The mural painter?” Ella couldn’t remember the guy’s name.
“No, no. Not Paolo. Someone new. He’s a businessman from Milan! Crazy, huh?” Casey looked over the letter again, trying to find the references to Gio. A rich guy, something with textiles.
Ella shook her head in confusion. Irene woke up with a short cry. Ella jumped up to get her. She patted her baby’s back.
“Perspective,” Ella said. It had come out sounding more smug than she’d intended.
“Huh?” Casey looked at her.
“Babies. They give perspective. She’ll see, I guess.” Ella cooed at her daughter. “What’s important.”