When Life Gives You Lululemons (11 page)

Karolina waved her hand but the tears had already begun. “I'm fine,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Oh, honey. Come here,” Miriam said, and although Karolina was embarrassed to be sobbing at the local Whole Foods, it felt so wonderful to be hugged. “It's going to be okay. I'm here now.”

A petite woman in a workout outfit pushed a cart with a toddler past them. As the little girl shoved Cheerios in her mouth, the woman couldn't disguise the fact that she was staring at Karolina. Not sneaking little glimpses but staring openly, head swiveled, mouth agape.

“Yes?” Karolina asked her. She was certain that directly confronting the woman would shame her into looking away, but it had no effect whatsoever. The toddler screeched and pulled at her mother's sweat-wicking shirt, but still the woman stared at Karolina.

“You're Karolina Hartwell,” the woman murmured, trancelike.

“Can we help you with something?” Miriam asked more politely than Karolina would have liked.

“It's just—you were my favorite model ever. I'll never forget, I saw you at the Victoria's Secret fashion show . . . what? That was like a hundred years ago. When you were Angel of the Year.”

Karolina forced a smile. “Not exactly a hundred. But close to fifteen. You were there?”

The woman nodded, completely ignoring her child as the little girl dumped the bag of Cheerios on the floor. “You were spectacular. My God! The face of L'Oréal, right here in Greenwich! I thought it was amazing when you became the ambassador for Save the Children. It brought a lot of attention to a cause that not enough people care about.”

“Thank you,” Karolina said, wiping under her eyes with a fingertip despite the fact that she wasn't wearing any makeup. “I appreciate that.”

“But what happened to you?” The woman's face contorted into angry accusation. “From Save the Children to
drunk driving with children
? Innocent
children
?” At that moment she seemed to remember her own and placed a protective arm around her daughter. “You should be ashamed!” This last part was yelled loud enough that other shoppers turned.

Karolina's face flushed and her heart beat faster. She was about to defend herself when she felt a stream of blood seep through her flannel pajama pants. She froze.

Miriam grabbed her arm and pulled. “You have no idea what you're talking about!” she called to the woman from halfway down the aisle.

“It's all over the news! I know exactly what I'm talking about!” the woman yelled back, and her child started to cry.

Karolina allowed herself to be led to the front of the store, where Miriam extracted a car key from her purse and pressed it into Karolina's hand. “It's the blue Highlander in the first row to the left when you walk out. There should be a towel for the dog in the back. Maybe sit on that? I'll get what you need and be right back.”

Karolina nodded. Miriam, always capable, always reliable.

“Go. Before this turns into a whole thing,” Miriam said, hurrying off.

Karolina found the car and the slightly muddy dog towel exactly where Miriam had said. She had barely hoisted herself into the front seat before her friend returned.

“Here, I got you two kinds. I don't know what you like,” Miriam said, handing Karolina a plastic bag and climbing into the driver's seat.

“Wait. Where's your stuff?” Karolina asked.

“I'll come back later. First I want to take you home.”

“No, I'm fine. I can drive myself—you don't have to drop me off. Maybe I can borrow the towel, though?”

“I'm not dropping you off. I'm taking you to
my
house. And I don't want to hear another word about it.”

“But my car! And I'm in PJs—blood-soaked PJs. I need to go home.”

“I'll bring you back to the car later. Right now you need some TLC, and you're not going to get it alone in your glass mansion,” Miriam said, already turning in to traffic.

Karolina was too exhausted to argue. Although she wasn't sure how Miriam's house, with the dog and the three kids, qualified as TLC, she was happy not to have to make any decisions.

When they walked into the house, they nearly tripped over piles of wet snow pants and jackets, muddy boots, and heaps of gloves and hats and scarves spread across the floor and bench. It barely ever snowed enough in Bethesda for Harry to play in the snow—and he was certainly too grown up lately to do anything so childish—but the sight of kids' snow gear nearly took Karolina's breath away.

Miriam, being Miriam, noticed immediately. “You must miss him so much.”

“I can't believe it's been almost a month. This is the longest I've ever gone without seeing him.”

“But you're talking to him, right?”

“Every night. And we FaceTime. But it's not the same.”

“No, of course not.”

Maisie spotted her mother. “Mommy! Did you see what we built outside? It's a real snowman. His name is Bobsy. Isn't that funny?” The little girl's cheeks were red with cold and her nose and lips were covered in mucus, but Karolina still had an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

“Bobsy looks terrific, honey. Tell Ben and Matthew they have ten more minutes until dinner, okay?”

When Karolina saw Paul sitting in the kitchen, clicking away on the computer, she nearly had a heart attack. Again, Miriam read her mind. “Don't worry,” she whispered. “If he thinks it's just me, he won't even look up. Just take the back stairs to the guest room. There are towels in the bathroom, and I'll bring you some clean sweats. I'll be up in a few minutes.”

As predicted, Paul called out a hello to his wife but didn't glance up from the screen. When Karolina came back downstairs, hair wet from its second washing in two hours, wearing a super-comfy sweatsuit that was at least three sizes too big, the entire family was assembled around two large pizzas at the kitchen table.

“Karolina!” Paul said warmly, walking over to embrace her. He'd clearly been prepped, because he didn't utter a word about her appearance. “It's so good to see you.”

“Thanks for letting me crash your Friday-night dinner. I think it's my fault you're having pizza tonight and not whatever Miriam was planning to buy at the grocery store.”

“Pizza, pizza, pizza!” Ben sang out through a mouthful of half-chewed food. “I love pizza!”

“Yeah, you can see how devastated we all are.” Paul smiled and pulled out a chair for her. He turned to Miriam. “Is Emily back for dinner?”

“No. She's staying in the city. She'll be back in the morning to pack. Her flight is tomorrow at three out of JFK.”

“Where's she going?” Karolina asked.

“Home, can you believe it? One night turned into three and a half weeks. I thought she'd never leave.” Miriam laughed. She didn't seem to
notice Matthew pouring a small stream of milk onto his side of steamed broccoli.

“Oh, come on. You've loved having her,” Paul said. “I hear you two cackling like witches late into the night.”

“Of course I have! It's been great. This is the longest time we've spent together since we were fifteen. What's not to like?”

Karolina forced herself to smile. She asked each of the children questions about school and friends, and even managed to get down a slice of lukewarm pizza despite feeling like she might vomit.

“I'll just Uber back to my car,” she announced, not caring that it was either rude or a complete non sequitur. “A driver can be here in three minutes.”

“Nonsense,” Paul said, waving her off. “Miriam said you were sleeping over.”

Miriam nodded. “I already changed the sheets in the guest room. You're staying.”

Karolina wanted to argue, but she couldn't get the words out. It was freezing and dark out, and Miriam's house was homey and warm, and the idea of not being alone another night sounded rather nice. She nodded and allowed Miriam to walk her upstairs.

“I'll be back after I get the kids to bed, okay? Then we can watch something bad on Bravo? I'll light us a fire.”

“Thank you,” Karolina murmured. She closed the door and immediately climbed under the covers. She briefly thought about turning on the TV but didn't want to risk stumbling across another news show. Instead, she picked up her phone. There on the screen saver, in honor of her wedding anniversary, was a wedding portrait: Karolina in a filmy custom Vera Wang; Graham so handsome in bespoke Tom Ford. He'd been thirty-two then, and he looked like an absolute baby. And standing beside him, Harry, just two, clutching his raccoon lovey and holding tightly to his father's hand. Karolina had been twenty-six when she met Graham at a dinner party in the Hamptons, and they'd gotten engaged six months later. She remembered feeling ill prepared to become
an overnight mother to this sweet, motherless boy, but Harry had made it so easy. Loving him was the most natural thing in the world, and she remembered thinking that one day they would give him a whole flock of brothers and sisters.

They'd honeymooned together, the three of them, in an oceanfront suite that opened directly onto the turquoise waters of the Caribbean. She loved how devoted a father Graham was. Parrot Cay was astronomically expensive and exclusive but not super-posh. It was the kind of place you could be barefoot from breakfast to dinner, wearing nothing more than a bikini and a muslin caftan, the pace as slow and languid as the heat. Harry spent hours splashing in the warm shallows, shrieking with laughter as he raced in and out of the waves, while Graham and Karolina looked on from chaise lounges, hand in hand. In the evenings they would feed Harry spaghetti or chicken fingers early, then all rinse together in the outdoor shower behind their suite. When Harry was in his striped pajamas, hair wet and smelling deliciously of coconuts, Graham would read to him while Karolina dressed. A couple of nights a kind older lady from guest reception came to stay with Harry, but since Karolina hated to leave him, they would carry him to the oceanfront restaurant and pull two chairs together to create a sort of criblike bed where Harry would curl himself around his blankie and immediately fall asleep. After a meal of fresh fish, they would walk back to the suite, Harry asleep and cradled in Graham's arms. Giggling from too much wine, Karolina and Graham would make love like it was the most natural thing in the world, which back then it was. They'd fall asleep on top of the cover as the breeze from the ceiling fan cooled them.

Now, lying in Miriam's guest bed, Karolina wondered if she'd imagined the whole thing. But no! Things hadn't always been like this. The wedding and the honeymoon had been real, as had many of the years they'd shared afterward. Naturally, there had been disagreements, even a few all-out screaming fights, but those early years had been filled with mostly happy memories: Harry's first day of kindergarten; Graham's promotion to partner; all the birthdays and dinners and cocktail parties
Karolina thoughtfully planned and executed, every detail perfect, every guest feeling wanted and welcomed. Graham had bought her beautiful, expensive jewelry for her birthdays, and yes, his secretary had probably chosen it all, but the tennis bracelets and diamond-drop earrings had come with store-bought Hallmark cards on which he'd scrawled heartfelt words about how much he loved her. He'd looked at her with both lust and adoration when she'd glided around those dreadfully boring lawyer parties, and he'd told her she lit up the room. When was the last time he had looked at her like that? Maybe this entire thing had been a misunderstanding. Maybe she was too suspicious of Regan Whitney. She didn't have any
proof
that they were having an affair, and God knew her instincts weren't always a hundred percent accurate. Could the Graham she had shared a life with for the better part of a decade—the same man who'd sworn that he would always take care of her—actually announce their divorce on national television? Or, as she was starting to suspect, could there be another explanation? Something she just hadn't considered yet?

Karolina bolted upright in bed. This was about a lack of communication, not a shortage of love—not a deliberate sabotage. She hit Graham's name in her Favorites and listened as it rang and rang. Voicemail. She left something rambling, perhaps a tad incoherent, but loving. The gist was “Let's work out this mess together; this has all been a misunderstanding; I love you and miss the way we used to be.”

“Call me back?” she said, but it sounded more like a plea. “I've realized so many things and want to talk to you.” Then she texted him the same thing. Twice.

She watched her phone for a while, but there was no return call or text. She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she woke up five hours later, it was nearly two in the morning and someone had turned off the lights and pulled up her covers. The memory came back: she had reached out to Graham to reconcile, to work through this horrible misunderstanding. She would apologize for thinking the worst of him; he would beg her forgiveness for leaving her overnight in jail. They
would vow to get to the bottom of this whole situation together. As a team. She saw her phone sitting peacefully on the night table, charging with its ringer thoughtfully turned off. Miriam. Always considerate Miriam. No wonder she hadn't heard him call back! But when she scrolled through the Recents list, there were no missed calls. It wasn't until she clicked on her texts that she saw his message:

Karolina, you're obviously ill, but I'm sorry to say that I can't help you. Once you put Harry's life at risk, you sealed your fate. Going forward, please only contact me through Trip.

The sky had already begun to lighten by the time she fell back into deep, dreamless sleep. And when she woke again at nine, pillow soaked with tears and eyes bloodshot from crying, she felt like she'd been run over by a bus. But there was something else there, something that felt equal parts terrifying and healthy. Something that felt a lot like rage.