“I guess,” Isabel a said. She chewed on her lip and looked concerned. “You know, I was thinking about the pigeons.”
“Real y?” Cate asked.
“Yeah, I mean, you’re right. It could have been just some random man stealing them.”
“I know,” Cate said. “But why wouldn’t anyone have stopped him?”
Isabel a shrugged. “Sometimes I think that if you do something with enough confidence in New York, you can get away with anything. If you pretend to have authority, people never question you.”
“I think you’re right.” Cate swal owed, looked back at her computer, and started typing.
Cate left work and stood on the corner waiting for the bus. A pigeon bobbed its head and walked toward her. She waited for it to stop and turn around, but it kept coming. Its beak was open, like it was going to bite her. She kicked her shoe at it and backed up, but it just flapped its wings at her. The people across the street watched her, giving her strange looks. The pigeon kept coming closer, and Cate wondered if it was a rabid pigeon. Was there such a thing? She kicked at it again and screamed, “Aughh!” Final y it turned to walk away. “Fuck you,” Cate said to its back.
She could have sworn it turned around to look at her. “You better watch it,” she said. “There are people out there who can take you.” The man next to her moved two steps away.
Cate stopped on the way home to get a bottle of wine, and opened it as soon as she got into her apartment. She poured some into a glass and took a sip before she even took off her jacket. No matter how many times she’d tried to make sense of it, she couldn’t. “Bridget and Jim,” she repeated aloud. “Bridget and Jim.”
Final y, after a couple glasses of wine, she picked up the phone and cal ed her friend Julia. “You won’t believe this,” Cate said. “I had lunch with Bridget today—I know, I know, she’s a crazy person. But listen to what she told me. She’s obsessed with Jim and total y stalking him. Yes, that Jim. I know, she’s nuts.” Cate took another sip of wine and smiled. “I think she’s breaking him down,” she said. “You know how she is. I know, I know. You almost feel sorry for him. Poor bastard.”
“You feel sick because you drank about forty-five vodka tonics last night,” Mary said. She leaned forward and sniffed. “You smel like you just took a shot. I’m serious. I can smel liquor on your breath.”
“Please stop it,” Lauren said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the seat. “Could someone please just switch with me?”
“Fine, I wil ,” Isabel a said.
They stood up and grasped elbows, turning until they were on opposite sides. Lauren knocked Mary’s coffee when she sat down and Mary swore at her. They were al annoyed. They were on their way to Long Island for a wedding shower and they were al annoyed.
“This isn’t helping,” Lauren said, and leaned forward to rest her head in her lap. “I hate Long Island.”
“No kidding,” Isabel a said.
Their friend Kristi was engaged. They were al happy for her. They were al bridesmaids. They were al sick of celebrating it.
Kristi was real y embracing her role as a bride-to-be. She never said things like “Let’s talk about something besides the wedding,” or, “You don’t have to buy me a present for every party.” She wanted al of the attention and she wanted al of the presents. This was her time, she kept reminding them, like it was something she’d earned.
This was Kristi’s sixth shower. First, her mother’s side of the family had thrown her a “Time of Day” shower. They were al given a time of day, and had to buy a present that went along with it. Isabel a got two a.m. “What am I supposed to get them for two a.m.?” Isabel a asked everyone. She agonized over it, ignored Lauren’s suggestion to buy them handcuffs, and final y bought sheets.
Kristi’s second shower was thrown by her father’s side of the family. (Her father’s side had been excluded from the first shower, because of some family drama that none of the bridesmaids cared about.) They traveled to Rhode Island to sit in a tiny living room and listen to Kristi’s aunt complain about not being invited to the other shower. “She could have had my invitation,” Mary whispered to Isabel a.
Kristi’s third shower was thrown by her fiance’s groomsmen. It was a couples’ shower to stock the bar, and everyone was supposed to bring a bottle of liquor and glasses. “What kind of groomsmen throw a shower?” Lauren asked. “Are they gay? I’ve never heard of such a thing. And you know what? I’m not going. I’m not in a couple, and I need the liquor more than she does.” Lauren ended up going to the party and drinking almost the whole bottle of liquor she’d brought. “I need it more,” she kept saying.
The fourth shower was thrown by Kristi’s friends from work, and she insisted that they al go. “I need my bridesmaids there,” she said. “Why?”
Lauren asked. “To wipe her ass?” The fifth shower happened because Kristi kept saying, “No one can believe that my bridesmaids haven’t thrown me a shower.” They had a brunch at Mary’s apartment to shut her up. “Is it just bagels?” she asked when she saw the food. When she opened up the present they got her, she said, “Who is this from? Oh, al of you. Is there another part? No, just this? Okay.”
Now they were on their way to Long Island for Kristi’s sixth shower and their patience was wearing thin. “My mother’s bridge group wants to throw me a shower,” Kristi said when she told them about this shower. “I just couldn’t say no!”
The thing was, Kristi wasn’t their first friend to get married. They had stood up in weddings of friends from home, friends from col ege, friends from work. Every time they were sure that they were done, someone else got engaged. And al that meant was that they would continue to spend their weekends at wedding showers.
