Page 37 of Such Sharp Teeth

Yeah, I say. I’m not busy.

—

“What do I wear bowling?” I ask Scarlett. She sits on the bed as I raid my closet.

“Why don’t you wear what you had on the other night?” she asks. “You looked supercute.”

“What other . . . Oh. Halloween.” I flip her off.

She falls over onto a pillow, laughing.

“Frankly, that outfit worked in my favor,” I say.

“I’m sure it did.”

“All right,” I say, combing through my usual going-out dresses, which are all too much for a suburban bowling alley. “My wardrobe is not functional. I’ve got, like, hanging-around-the-house-running-errands clothes, or going-for-cocktails-in-Manhattan clothes. There’s no in-between.”

“Did you bring everything you own?” she asks, peering into the closet.

“Not my work clothes.”

“No power suits?”

“Nope.”

They’re all back at my apartment, which I sublet to my trusted friend Laura, a former coworker who now reviews bars and restaurants and various hot spots for a bougie New York City lifestyle magazine. Whenever I go out with her, I spend too much money and, more often than not, make out with someone low-key famous. There’ve been several New York Rangers. A few supporting actors on New York–based TV shows. If I’m ever watching TV, thinking, Where do I know him from? I probably know him from a night out with Laura.

“What do you usually wear on dates?” Scarlett asks.

“I don’t go on dates.”

“Right,” she says. “Are you nervous?”

“What do I have to be nervous about?” I look over my shoulder at her. She’s deep in thought. “What?”

“I’ve just been thinking. With Mom coming to visit, and I guess because I’m about to have a kid, I’ve been thinking about what Mom did right. She gave us a lot of confidence.”

“Mm,” I say, my stomach turning.

“She was never secure in herself, so it’s wild to me that she raised us. She had her own shit, but she was always really encouraging with us. She didn’t just give us mom compliments like ‘You’re beautiful.’ She really saw us.”

She’s not wrong. “Yeah. I’ll give her credit where credit is due.”

As soon as I say it, I know it’s not true. I can’t. Can’t do it.

“If only she paid more attention,” I say. “Or I don’t know. Listened to her children.”

Scarlett sits up. “I’m having a girl.”

“Really?” My heart might explode.

“Don’t get all . . .” she says, gesturing vaguely in my direction. “You have to resolve things with Mom. I have to know you’re not going to resent her for the rest of your life.”

“Okay,” I say, my joy deflating in spectacular fashion. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m about to go on a date. Why would you bring that up now?”

She opens her mouth to speak, then changes her mind. She stands up and comes over to where I am in front of the closet . For a second, I think she might hug me, but then she pushes me out of the way.

“Let me,” she says.