Page 106 of Such Sharp Teeth

I shrug. “I’m not one of those mom shamers. You can be honest. If you wanted to lock yourself in a closet or scream into a pillow, I’m not clutching my pearls.”

“No judgment here,” Mia says, though her face says different.

“I do have my moments. But I wouldn’t trade it. I’m always laughing. With Seth, with Luca. Even if they’re driving me up the wall, making a mess. They’re also making me laugh.”

I down my whiskey and signal the bartender for another.

“I know you guys like your freedom,” Ash says. “I think Scarlett does, too. She’s just not as outspoken about it. But I don’t see being a wife and mother as, like, sacrificing freedom. Yes, I make sacrifices, but I’m also getting things in return. From my partnership with Seth. From my relationship with my son. I know you’re looking at me, thinking, ‘Oh, my God, she hasn’t been out to a bar in years, and she likes to stay home and clean,’ and you think it’s sad and scary—”

“No, I—”

“It’s okay Rory. It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m happy,” she says. “I’m really happy.”

I think she’s already tipsy.

“I’m happy for you.”

“You could be happy here,” she says. She’s just talking to me now, her back to Mia. “I miss you. I wish you would move closer. I know you’re big-city now. You’ve always been big-city. But we could do this all the time!”

“We could,” I say, lifting the cherry out of my drink by the stem and dropping it into her glass.

I’m a little off-kilter. It’s distracting, being around this many people, having them so close to me. All these strangers. I can hear their hearts beating, the air as it enters and exits their lungs. I can smell their sweat. It’s sensory overload. The colors in the room are too much. The lights glow aggressively. My peripheral vision is extensive, and there’s this primal, uncanny awareness of the space around me. This terrifying ability to razor-focus on the humidity of that guy’s breath, the notes of that woman’s perfume, on hands moving and feet moving and mouths moving. Tongues. Saliva. Teeth and the remnants of dinner wedged between them. Distant conversations, words across the bar that reach me as if they’re being spoken directly into my ears.

My skin crawls. The hair on the back of my neck stiffens. I don’t want to pay attention, but there’s a need I can’t ignore. A base need to know everything that’s going on around me.

This is just a reminder that I’m not normal, that my body is functioning at a different level, and there’s no on-off switch. I can’t opt out of this supernatural surveillance.

“Are you having fun?” Ash asks me. Her voice cuts through the noise, wonderfully familiar.

“Yeah,” I lie.

“Cheers to that!” Mia says, and we clink our glasses.

“We should dance,” Ash says, pulling at my hips. “Let’s dance!”

“We need to put on some good music,” Mia says, shuffling over to the jukebox. She selects “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” “Remember that time we went to Planned Parenthood to get condoms and they were playing this?”

“Yeah,” I say. “We were, like, this is either very appropriate or very inappropriate.”

She laughs. “Little of both.”

The three of us sing along loudly and dance like lunatics. When a Spice Girls song comes on after, Ash screams.

Our antics get the attention of a group of four men. They look older than us, but not by much.

“They’re staring,” Mia says, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go talk to them!”

“Nah,” I say, trying to remember some Spice World–era choreography.

“Rory’s got a boyfriend!” Ash giggles.

“Really?” Mia asks. I’m a little offended she seems so surprised.

“Ian Pedretti!” Ash yells.

“Shh!” I tell her.

“Huh, that’s weird,” Mia says, her face bittering.