Tina crossed her chest and giggled. “I couldn’t. Sabine gave these to you. And you love them.”
Casey touched her bare forearms. “She would understand. I want you to have them.”
“Really?” Tina stared at the silver glinting on her wrists.
“You’re the real Wonder Woman anyway,” Casey said. It was bittersweet to say it, but she did not mind so much.
Tina didn’t know how to respond. It was as if Casey were admitting defeat to a rivalry Tina had never felt for her older sister. She had just wanted Casey’s love, her attention. There was no contest. Was there? But if she didn’t accept the gift, her sister would be hurt.
“You give me lots of things, Casey. The crib from the shower, and just today, the clothes for Timothy.”
“I want you to have these.” Casey checked the edges of the cuffs, and they were rounded. They wouldn’t hurt the baby when Tina was holding him. “Really. I mean it.”
“Thank you, Casey.”
Casey felt better suddenly. Her wrists were pale where the cuffs had been, the tan lines stark against the white bands of skin stretching over her thin wrist bones.
“I hope Timothy is like you,” Tina said.
“Why would you wish such a rotten thing on your beautiful child?” Casey kissed Timothy’s forehead.
“Because you’re a true person, Casey. You are your own. That’s important.” Tina’s voice was assured. All her life, she had wanted to make decisions not informed by others’ needs, wants, and expectations. “No one is like you,” Tina said. “In the end, that matters most, I think. And being truthful.”
Casey swallowed her breath, trying to contain the good Tina was trying to give her. But it wasn’t possible to believe it fully. She touched the baby’s soft foot, almost to make sure that he was real.
Chul dropped them off at Unu’s apartment. The doorman on duty was Frank, and he waved hello. George was off that weekend.
At home, Unu hung up Casey’s raincoat. He pulled out a compact disc wrapped in cellophane from the console drawer in the foyer.
“It’s not much,” he said.
“What’s the occasion?”
“No reason.”
It was a Carly Simon anthology with the song “Coming Around Again.”
She kissed him on the mouth. “I love it. And I didn’t have it. I mean, I used to, but I lost it.” She felt terrible.
“I was walking through Tower, and you said you liked that song. A while ago.”
“I remember.” The day he’d won all that money. Casey sat on the armchair.
“I know things haven’t been great. With me lately. I’m trying to figure out the job thing. You’ve been such a good friend the past few months. I couldn’t have made it without you. Things will get better. I should have gotten you jewelry or something like that—”
Casey shook her head. “No. I prefer this.”
Unu nodded. He wanted to be with her, and he grew more certain of this as time passed. He’d get his act together. Make the calls he had to make. Quit gambling. You could start again if you had love.
“I slept with Hugh Underhill. In Vermont,” Casey blurted out. She covered her mouth with her hands folded.
“What?”
Casey did not repeat herself. The hurt in his eyes was awful, but she couldn’t have kept it from him. It needed saying.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said.
“I’m sorry.”
“How could you do that? You read the Bible every fucking day. Go to church every Sunday. Do they make hypocrites as big as you?”
Casey lowered her head. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should go.”
“What? Are going to meet Hugh who-fucks-everything-that-moves Underhill? Is that how you got your job?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No.”
He looked incredulous. “You’re a goddamn cliché. The girl who sleeps her way to the top. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you. There are thousands of guys like that on Wall Street. They’re no good, Casey. How could you?” Unu felt like he might hit her, and he stepped back.
“That’s not what happened.”
“Right.”
“I’m sorry, Unu. I am sorry. I couldn’t not tell you.” Casey looked at her hands. She missed her bracelets.
“Get out of here. Get out. Get the fuck out!” he screamed. “And take your shit with you. Get the fuck out!” He sat on the floor, his upper body crumpling. He hated her. He had been right not to marry again. She was worse than his wife. At least his wife had been in love with an old flame. She hadn’t spread her legs for a sleazy broker for a job. What kind of person would do that?