I’m beginning to think that she has that OCD thing Esta told me about: she hears a story and then she begins to think it’s her story. The worst thing is that Esta was right about the jumper story; it’s really gotten to Laurel.
It started right after the party. We were at the salon having mani-pedis and she told me she was afraid there was something wrong with Chloë—her Chloë.
“I’ve never told anyone this,” she whispered as if the Ukrainian girls scraping our feet would even understand, “but when Chloë was two months old, I left her on the bed and she rolled off. She hit her head so hard she threw up. I think she may have gotten brain damage.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I said, remembering I’d told Laurel a story of doing the same thing with my Chloe. “She seems completely normal to me.”
“But she’s not rolling over on her own and your Chloe is.” She was so agitated she jerked her foot and nearly kicked Svetlana in the face.
“Well . . .” I started to say something reassuring but she added, “And your Chloe was a preemie. She should be behind my Chloë developmentally.”
I know it’s silly but this made me a little angry for my Chloe. The doctor said I shouldn’t worry if Chloe was behind on developmental milestones because of her being born early, but it was hard to listen to other mothers bragging about their babies rolling over and even sitting up already and to have to keep saying, “Well, she was a preemie.” It felt good to have my Chloe doing something before Laurel’s Chloe-with-an-umlaut.
So I just made a very concerned face and said, “Hm, maybe you should have her checked out.” Which is practically the worst thing you can say to a mother.
Then I felt bad about it because Laurel took her Chloë to the hospital and had them run a battery of tests on her—even a CT scan. They didn’t find anything but Laurel said she thinks they did but that they won’t tell her because they’re afraid of what she might do. That’s when I found out about Laurel’s history of mental illness. She told me that she had a breakdown when she was in college and again when she was in grad school. Then when she was pregnant she got really depressed and took some pills. She said she was just trying to get some sleep, but Stan brought her to the hospital and said she had tried to kill herself.
“That’s how he became my mental-health conservator,” she told me the last time I was at her house.
I didn’t know what that was, so she had to explain it to me. I was kind of shocked, because it made it sound like Laurel really wasn’t able to take care of herself. But I didn’t want to make her feel bad, so I said, “I’m sure he just wanted to make sure he could help you if you were incapacitated. Like a power of attorney . . . Peter had me sign one in case something happened during delivery.”
“But you don’t have any money, so it doesn’t really matter!” She was so loud that Simone, who was watching the Chloes in the yard, looked up. “I’ve got my inheritance. It’s all in trust, of course, which drives Stan crazy, but with this conservatorship Stan could take all my money if I were in a coma.”
I just stared at her, trying to think what to say to calm her down, and I noticed for the first time that she had these really dark circles under her eyes. “Are you getting any sleep?” I asked.
Her eyes widened the way they did in group when someone said something she thinks is stupid. “Why do you ask that? Are you saying I sound crazy?”
“No, no!” I lied. Because, really, she did sound a little crazy. “You just sound . . . stressed out. And I know what it was like when Chloe wasn’t sleeping through the night.”
Her eyes practically bulged out of her head. “You mean she is now? You didn’t tell me that.” She said it like I’d been keeping state secrets from her. The truth was I hadn’t told her because I knew she’d be jealous.
“Oh, it’s only been for a few nights.” I laughed, trying to sound casual, but it came out sounding a little hysterical. “I didn’t want to jinx it. And all I meant was that everything seems worse when you’re overtired. You know, like when the Chloes act up when they haven’t had their naps.”
“I’m not a baby,” she said frostily, getting up from the couch. “Sim, would you bring my Chloë in? I think it’s time for her nap. I wouldn’t want her to get cranky.”
I tried to apologize, but Laurel pretended she didn’t know what I was talking about. She got all remote, which I’d seen her do with Esta and some of the other mothers. Ice bitch, I heard Alexa Hartshorn call her once. But she’d never acted that way with me. I cried all the way home and it upset Chloe so much that she cried too. So there were the two of us just wailing away! I had to sit in the car a few minutes to get my composure back, because if Peter saw me like that he’d make a big fuss about it. Once when I cried in front of Chloe he said it was really bad for her
