She, Myself & I by Whitney Gaskell Page B

look up every answer? Sophie, I do want to go shopping with you, but so far all you’ve wanted to do today is elevate your feet and snog bagels. I’d just like to get going, I have some things to do today,” I said. I was thinking about buying a new outfit for my date with Zack that evening, and wanted to stop by Saks. But if I couldn’t levitate Soph out of the green plaid chair and ottoman she’d ensconced herself in since arriving an hour earlier, I wasn’t going to have time.
    “What things?” Sophie asked.
    “Rya. That fits. Good, Paige,” my mom said approvingly.
    “I have a . . . thing tonight, and I wanted to pick up something to wear,” I said.
    “A ‘thing’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Sophie said, looking up from her bagel.
    “A dinner thing,” I hedged.
    “Is the word you’re looking for a ‘date’?” Sophie asked. The whiff of gossip had the miraculous effect of causing her to forget about her bagel, and she was now alert and upright, staring at me brightly.
    “Hmm. If ‘rya’ is correct, then what’s a five-letter word for ‘lack of experience,’ starting with a Y ?” my mother asked.
    “No, I wouldn’t call it a date. It’s just a . . . get-together. A dinner. Nothing serious,” I said.
    “So, who is it? If you’re buying new clothes for your non-date date, you must be somewhat interested,” Sophie persisted.
    I hesitated. Since I hadn’t confided in Sophie when Zack first asked me out, I felt awkward doing so now. Why, I don’t know. It wasn’t like we were in competition for him. But she’d been so touchy lately, and the smallest things set her off.
    “Actually, it’s Zack. He came to see me about a custody issue, which I couldn’t help him with, and he asked me out then. We went out the other night, too,” I said.
    “Zack? Zack who? Wait . . . do you mean my Zack?”
    “I mean your carpenter, Zack. I don’t really think of him as yours, though,” I said dryly.
    Sophie looked confused for a moment, and when that passed, she just looked pissed off. Which was really sort of scary, considering she’d been ready to attack the checkout clerk for not properly bagging her groceries. God only knew what she’d do to someone who was seducing her imaginary lover away from her.
    “You knew I was interested in him. I can’t believe that you’d go behind my back that way,” she said. Color rose in her face, and she glared at me.
    “You’re not serious? Jesus, Sophie, you’re the one who suggested that I go out with him in the first place. Did you forget you’re married? Don’t tell me that amnesia is another fun pregnancy symptom we get to cope with?” I said, rolling my eyes.
    “Ah! It’s ‘youth’! That fits,” my mother crowed, and then looked up from the crossword dictionary she’d been rummaging through. She peered at my sister over the rims of her glasses. “What’s wrong, Sophie? Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed. Maybe you should go lie down.”
    “She’s angry at me because she thinks I stole her boyfriend,” I said sarcastically.
    I knew Soph was hormonal, but the absurdity of the situation was just a little much. Sophie was both very married and very pregnant, so she wasn’t exactly in the situation to be calling dibs on available guys.
    “I don’t feel like going shopping anymore. I’m going to go home and take a nap,” Sophie said, her voice quavering.
    “Don’t be like that,” I sighed.
    “Why don’t you lie down here? I don’t think you should drive if you aren’t feeling well,” my mother suggested, getting up and following Sophie to the door.
    “I just want to be alone,” Sophie sniffed. She shot me another dirty look and then waddled out the door.
    My mother came back into the living room and looked at me reproachfully. I knew that look. It was her signature strike-guilt-in-the-hearts-of-daughters-everywhere look, perfected after thirty-four years of parenting. I liked to think I was impervious to