Lauren picked up the bottle and swirled it around so that the worm swam in the tequila. “You know,” she said, “this was real y my bottle of tequila.”
“I know,” Isabel a said. “I remember.”
Their third night in Mexico, the three of them had fal en asleep on the beach and woke up with uneven streaks of sunburn and sand in their mouths. For two days, Mary lay on the hotel bed, moaning and covered in aloe. Isabel a stayed with her, burned and nauseous, refusing to go out until her streaks had faded just a little bit. Lauren’s burn turned quickly to a tan, and she resumed her spring break the next night, winning a bikini contest at the hotel bar. She came into the room that night wearing several strands of beads and carrying the tequila with the worm on the bottom.
“Look what I won!” she yel ed and jumped up and down on the bed until Isabel a threw up. Lauren apologized and gave her the tequila to make up for it.
“I can’t believe you entered a bikini contest,” Mary said from her spot on the bed. Her face was covered with a wet washcloth and her skin was tinted green from the aloe.
Lauren stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I’m an adult,” she said. “I can do whatever I want. I’m a grown woman.”
Slowly, Mary removed the washcloth from her face and whipped it at Lauren. “You are the drunkest grown woman I’ve ever seen,” she said.
For years, whenever one of them went on a rant about anything, one of the others would say, “You tel them. You are a grown woman!”
Isabel a poured three more shots. “To grown women,” she said, holding up her glass. She realized that it wasn’t as funny anymore. Maybe it didn’t always seem true, but they were no longer sunburned in Mexico. Somehow, in the past ten years they’d gotten from there to here.
They al took the shot. Mary stretched out her legs in front of her, and Lauren leaned back on her palms. “I think that Mark and I might get married,”
Lauren said. “We were talking about it the other day. We might go down to city hal and just do it.”
“Are you pregnant?” Isabel a asked her.
“Yes, Isabel a. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and so I decided to come drink a bottle of poisoned tequila with you and announce it.”
“What?” Mary asked.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Lauren said. “I’m not pregnant, you morons.”
“Oh,” Isabel a said. She shook the bottle and watched the worm swirl around. “That’s good news for baby.”
“So you real y think you’l get married?” Mary asked. “Are you going to have a wedding or what?”
Lauren shook her head. “No. No wedding. We were just talking about how we like living together and he suggested getting married, and I thought it sounded like a good idea.”
“What the hel ?” Mary said. She looked at Lauren and then she looked at the bottle. Her eyes were pointing in different directions. “I think the worm just moved.” Mary hiccupped and laughed, then gagged.
“Sweet Jesus,” Isabel a said, looking at the bottle. “You’re right. The worm turned.”
Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to my parents, Pat and Jack Close, who deserve a mil ion thanks for their support and encouragement over the last few decades. M&D, you are the best.
I am also forever thankful to:
Kevin Close, for always wanting to read what I wrote and for thinking I’m funny.
Chris and Susan Close, for so many things but especial y for giving me Ava Jane Close, the most adorable niece and goddaughter ever.
Carol and Scott Hartz for opening their home to me, offering me legal advice, and most important, for welcoming me into their family.
Sam Hiyate, a wonderful agent and friend, for taking a chance on me and my writing.
Moriah Cleveland, for answering late-night e-mails about story ideas, editing at a moment’s notice, and just general y keeping me sane.
Lee Goldberg, one of the first people to see this, who helped shape it early on and gave me reassurance that it was, indeed, a book.
Steve Almond, a teacher that every writer should be lucky enough to have.
Helen Schulman, who always told me to take a deep breath and start over.
Margaret Kearney Hoerster, for eighteen years of best friendship.
Mairead McGurrin Garry, Erin Murphy Claydon, and Erin Foley Bradley, for making me laugh al through col ege, and ever since.
Wrigley, the Yorkie, who sat on my lap as I wrote most of this book. A more loyal writing partner wil never be found.
Megan Angelo and Jessica Liebman, who offered early insights and edits for this book and were just as excited as I was every step of the way.
Jon Claydon, for helping me to understand the life of a first-year lawyer.
Jacob Lewis, the best boss ever and a good friend.
