Page 4 of Who's that Girl?
“Yeah. I guess so.” I can’t believe I didn’t know. It sort of knocks the wind out of me. Claire and I have always been so solid, such a team. It’s … demoralizing to realize that for a long time, I’ve barely known her at all. I haven’t seen her. Not the way she deserves to be seen. Gray must hear the dejection in my voice because his own tone softens.
“Look, if it helps at all, none of us really knew. My sister has turned hiding her true feelings into something of an art form. She always says she’s okay. Even when she’s not. So it’s not, like, all your fault, okay?”
“Okay.”
“But, Adam, if I were you, I’d call Drew about doing the show. Like, now.”
“I just—”
He interrupts me before I can finish.
“No buts! You don’t get it. This is really important. So get on Twitter. Then make the call. Then work on a big gesture. Then pray.”
He must be right. He loves his sister. I love his sister. We’re on the same side here.
“Okay. Yeah. Thanks, G.”
“You’re welcome. And Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re all rooting for you, you know.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up and open the river of idiocy that is Twitter, which is not usually my thing. I don’t really do social media at all. Claire’s always on me about it actually. She says I need to be more engaged online if I’m ever going to get serious about selling more of my furniture. But at the same time, she shares enough for both of us. I don’t see why I should have to…
An hour later, I’m sitting in our little living room, gobsmacked.
I’ve been reading Claire’s tweets, and the replies, and then some.
She … the woman has like 200K engaged followers. That many people are, like, obsessed with my wife. They’re all talking to her, asking her questions. It’s this huge conversation that I had no idea she was having.
She blew up. Just in the past few days. I knew that, I guess. She said it. I heard her say it. But I didn’t realize what it meant exactly…
And she’s so funny. Claire is so painfully funny. I knew that too, but I guess it’s another thing I’ve been taking for granted. I sort of … forgot for awhile.
As I ponder all these people — these strangers — showing more care and interest in my wife than I have in two years, I feel deeply, cuttingly ashamed.
How did I let us get here?
Claire’s been through the wringer. There’s the whole thing with me and the letter, which I already knew about and which she only mentioned obliquely, but there’s the whole thing with the hotel and the spa, and some absolute lunatic of an … what would you call them — the people who work at those girly spa places? A facialist? An esthetician? I don’t know the lingo, but there was a whole thing with a woman at the spa like, praying to make her more beautiful and less fat.
Reading about it made me want to punch something.
I actually had the urge to stand up and smash something.
How dare they? How dare they f— with my wife?
Anyway, I resisted the urge for violence and kept reading. But then there was this whole thing about almost getting arrested while shopping. Which I can see now … was entirely my fault.
Jesus.
Gray was right. I need to call Drew.
I owe Claire that much. No. I owe her way more. But this is a start.
I text my baby brother-in-law for the number and prepare myself to beg.
