The Stranger
Page 18

Adam nodded. “Great story, Corinne.”
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
“No, no, seriously, it’s gripping and so relevant. I mean, I’m asking you to tell me about faking a pregnancy, but really this story is much better. What kind of panini was your favorite, anyway? I like the turkey and swiss myself.”
She closed her eyes. “You’ve always used sarcasm as a defense mechanism.”
“Oh, right, and you’ve always been great with timing. Like now, Corinne. Now is the time to psychoanalyze me.”
There was a pleading in her voice now. “I’m trying to tell you something, okay?”
He shrugged. “So tell me.”
She took a few seconds to gather herself before she began speaking again. When she did, her voice had a far-off quality to it. “I’d go to Bookends pretty much every day, and after a while, you become, I don’t know, a regular. The same people would be there all the time. It was like a community. Or like Cheers. There was Jerry, who was unemployed. And Eddie was an outpatient at Bergen Pines. Debbie would bring her laptop and write—”
“Corinne . . .”
She held up her hand. “And then there was Suzanne, who was, like, eight months pregnant.”
Silence.
Corinne turned behind her. “Where’s that bottle of wine?”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
“I just need some more wine.”
“I put it in the cabinet above the sink.”
She headed over to it, opened the door, and snatched out the bottle. Corinne grabbed her glass and started to pour. “Suzanne Hope was maybe twenty-five years old. It was her first baby. You know how young mothers-to-be are—all glowing and over-the-top happy, like they’re the first people to ever get pregnant. Suzanne was really nice. We all talked to her about the pregnancy and the baby. You know. She’d tell us about her prenatal vitamins. She ran names by us. She didn’t want to know if it was a boy or girl. She wanted to be surprised. Everyone liked her.”
He bit back the sarcastic rejoinder. Instead, he replaced it with an obvious observation. “I thought you were there for quiet and reading.”
“I was. I mean, that’s how it started. But somewhere along the way, I started to cherish this social circle. I know it sounds pathetic, but I looked forward to seeing these people. And it was like they only existed in that time and space, you know? It’s like when you used to play pickup basketball. You loved those guys on the court, but you didn’t know a thing about them off it. One guy owned that restaurant we went to and you didn’t even know, remember?”
“I remember, Corinne. But I don’t see the point.”
“I’m just trying to explain. I made friends. People came in and out without warning. Like Jerry. One day, Jerry disappeared. We assumed he got a job, but it’s not like he came in and told us. He just stopped coming. Suzanne too. We figured that she had the baby. She was way overdue. And then sadly, when the new semester started, double lunch ended for me, and so I guess I faded away too. That’s how it worked. It was cyclical. The cast rotated.”
He had no idea where she was going with this, but there was no reason to rush her either. In a way, he wanted things to slow down now. He wanted to consider all options. He glanced back over at the kitchen table where Thomas and Ryan had just eaten and laughed and thought that they were secure.
Corinne took a deep sip of her wine. To move it along, Adam asked, “Did you ever see any of them again?”
Corinne almost smiled. “That’s the point of the story.”
“What is?”
“I saw Suzanne again. Maybe three months later.”
“At Bookends?”
She shook her head. “No. It was a Starbucks in Ramsey.”
“Did she have a boy or girl?”
A sad smile toyed with Corinne’s lips. “Neither.”
He didn’t know what to make of that or how to follow it up, so he simply said, “Oh.”
Corinne met his eye. “She was pregnant.”
“Suzanne was?”
“Yes.”
“When you saw her at Starbucks?”
“Yes. Except it was only three months after I last saw her. And she still looked eight months pregnant.”
Adam nodded, finally seeing where she was going. “Which is, of course, impossible.”
“Of course.”
“She was faking.”
“Yes. See, I had to go to Ramsey to check out this new textbook. It was lunchtime again. Suzanne must have figured that there’d be no chance one of us from Bookends would be there. That Starbucks is, what, a fifteen-minute drive from Bookends?”
“At least.”
“So I was up at the counter ordering a latte and I heard that voice and there she was, sitting in the corner, telling a rapt group of patrons about her prenatal vitamin regimen.”
“I don’t get it.”
Corinne tilted her head. “Really?”
“You do?”
“Sure. I got it right away. Suzanne was holding court in the corner, and then I started walking toward her. When she spotted me, that glow just vanished. I mean, you can imagine. How do you explain being eight months pregnant for, like, what, half a year? I just stood there and waited. I think she hoped that I’d leave. But I didn’t. I was supposed to go to school, but later, I told them I got a flat tire. Kristin covered my classes for me.”
“You and Suzanne eventually talked?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said that she really lives in Nyack, New York.”
That was about thirty minutes from both Bookends and that Starbucks, Adam figured.
“She told me a story about having a stillborn. I don’t think it’s true, but it could be. But in many ways, Suzanne’s story is simpler. Some women love being pregnant. Not because of the hormonal rush or because they have a baby growing inside of them. Their reasons are much more base. It is the one time in their life they feel special. People hold doors for them. People ask them about their day. They ask them when they’re due and how they’re feeling. In short, they get attention. It’s a little like being famous. Suzanne was nothing special to look at. She didn’t strike me as being particularly smart or interesting. Being pregnant made her feel like a celebrity. It was like a drug.”
Adam shook his head. He remembered the wording on the Fake-A-Pregnancy website: “Nothing throws you in the spotlight like being pregnant!”