My buzzy anticipation of our meeting, of being able to talk about Isabel, gave me a little more energy than I usually had—I was actually able to do some cleaning and some laundry, and once again put on my fancy leggings and a sweater instead of staying in my sweats all morning. Clara seemed to respond to my energy positively, too, giving me lots of smiles during the day and taking one decent nap in her bassinet.
I walked into the WSWC ten minutes early, the sight of strong working women as always giving me a jolt, a harsh reminder of how foreign their world was to me right now. Productive women getting dressed up, pitching marketing decks, closing deals, probably after eight hours of sleep and a five-mile morning run or a Peloton ride. They might as well have been aliens.
Despite being early, I wasn’t the first to arrive: Selena and Miles were already there. I hadn’t spoken to Selena since our heated conversation a couple of days ago. I was all ready to apologize, but she broke the ice first with a cautious smile.
“Hey, I’m sorry about all that,” she said effusively, not needing to clarify what “that” she was referring to.
“No, no, I’m sorry. You were totally right. I shouldn’t have asked you to . . . I don’t even know what, like, conduct some kind of amateur deep dive into Isabel’s disappearance? I think I’m just looking for an outlet that takes me away from obsessing about Clara a little bit. But that is obviously not the right one. I certainly have no right to be nosing around in her family’s business—and I definitely shouldn’t be, like, recruiting friends to join me! I don’t know what’s wrong with me, to be honest.” Hearing how true my words were made me feel even worse and refreshed my embarrassment.
“I totally get it,” she said. “Look, it’s really upsetting. And I don’t want to seem callous. I’ve been thinking a lot about her, too, obviously. But it has nothing to do with us.”
Why did she keep saying that, though? While I could certainly recognize that the way I was dealing with the Isabel situation—trying to involve myself, uncover clues—was weird, and possibly dangerous, Selena’s reaction and insistence on distancing herself from all of it seemed just as off to me.
She continued, squeezing Clara’s toe affectionately as I placed her on the mat next to Miles. “Anyway, I hope we’re okay. And I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t like you guys, because I do. That was too much, and I didn’t mean it. I do value your friendship, and I hope you’ll keep what I said between us. That was the stress talking. But my situation is different from yours—it just is. Sometimes my stakes feel so high. Like I’m not allowed to make a mistake. And getting involved in all of this, for me, would be a mistake.” There was a note of finality in her tone that told me it was time for me to let it drop, and I wouldn’t ignore her cues, like I had the other day.
“Of course. I completely respect that. And again, I’m sorry for not being more considerate, and for making you uncomfortable.” Kira and Caleb walked in at that point, bringing a natural end to our conversation.
Kira looked like hell. And coming from me, that was saying a lot. Her face was shadowy, her sweatshirt was stained, her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in several days. When I pulled her in for a hug, I even noticed a bit of a scent to her.
“Hey!” I said, too enthusiastically, as if I could magically transfer her some energy. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. Sleep’s been a little tough lately, I guess. We’re trucking along, though,” she said, barely returning my hug, smiling slightly but not meeting my eyes.
Vanessa and Phoebe walked into the room then, Phoebe contentedly tied to Vanessa’s chest in her stylish Boba wrap, Vanessa wearing her like a gorgeous, prized accessory. Vanessa looked serious as she greeted all of us, lightly kissing everyone in her classy way.
No one had brought snacks that day. We hadn’t discussed it explicitly, but perhaps it felt too casual, too normal, suddenly inappropriate for our new circumstances. Besides, Isabel was the one who normally designated snack duties.
Once we were all seated, Kira nursing Caleb （who was predictably and adorably dressed in a purple-and-pink striped onesie）， the rest of the babies on the play mat, Vanessa spoke solemnly. “Ladies, I hate to start off with bad news, but I think it’s best I tell you right away. I got a call from Louise, Isabel’s mom, yesterday evening. Apparently, the police found her rings on the Hudson riverbank.” She glanced at each one of us, gauging how we were processing the news.