The Wives. Lauren Weisberger

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The Wives - Lauren Weisberger


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over to hang out. I ordered them pizza, and they played Xbox and God knows what else twelve-year-old boys do. FaceTime girls? Each other? I don’t know. I’m not proud of it, but out of spite, I opened one of Graham’s thousand-dollar bottles of cabernet and poured myself half a glass. I knew that was all I was having, but it felt very satisfying to stick the barely drunk bottle into the fridge – he would have a heart attack when he saw it, and truthfully, I was looking forward to it. But that’s all I had. Half a glass.’

      ‘Okay, and then what?’

      ‘And then nothing! The boys wolfed down an entire Carvel ice cream cake in like thirty seconds, and they all piled into the Suburban around nine-thirty. Before I got to Billy Post’s house less than a mile away, two cop cars appeared out of nowhere. Full lights and sirens, like a real emergency. I pulled over to let them pass, but then they came up to my window.’

      Trip nodded as though Karolina were confirming a script he already knew. ‘What did they say?’

      ‘They asked if I’d been drinking. When I said of course not, they said I was driving very erratically. Which is ridiculous, because I was actually driving very slowly in our residential neighborhood.’

      ‘They said they saw empty bottles of champagne rolling around in the back of the Suburban.’ Trip said this quietly, looking down at his hands.

      ‘Oh, did they? Well, that’s impossible. Because I don’t even like champagne. Neither does Graham. It gives us both headaches—’ She paused. Unless the kids had gotten into it? Karolina scrunched her nose in consideration. Was it possible? Twelve was hardly too young to try sneaking alcohol for the first time. Was she being delusional in thinking Harry would never try a drink? No, she knew her kid. She knew he’d be exactly like every other teenager and experiment with all kinds of things, but she was also positive that he wasn’t there yet. And even if she was completely off-base and the boys had gotten into Graham’s prized wine cellar, there was no way five twelve-year-old boys could even open a bottle of champagne undetected, much less polish off two bottles. She remembered back to the night before. Both Harry and his friends had all seemed completely normal: rowdy, yes, but certainly sober. ‘No. That wasn’t it. I have no idea how the bottles got there.’

      Trip placed his palm over the top of her hand, and it felt warm, comforting. ‘I’m so sorry, Lina. This can’t be easy.’

      All it took was that small expression of sympathy for the tears to start freely flowing again. Karolina was certain she had dragonlike streams of mascara running down her cheeks, but considering she’d just spent the night in jail, she figured it wasn’t the worst of her appearance problems.

      ‘But here’s the part that makes absolutely no sense. They brought me back here. Then without giving me a Breathalyzer or anything, they throw me in that room for the night. On what grounds? Empty bottles in my car? How is that even allowed?’

      Trip’s phone rang again, and the force with which he pressed ‘decline’ startled her. He cleared his throat. ‘The police said you refused both the Breathalyzer and a follow-up offer of a blood test. Maryland is an implied-consent state, which means that by even having a driver’s license, you consent to be tested. Refusal to participate in all chemical testing immediately results in a DUI.’

      ‘You can’t be serious.’

      ‘I do mostly corporate work, Lina, you know that. Barely any litigation and certainly no criminal. But I did consult with a colleague before coming here, and he took me through the laws.’

      ‘No, I mean you can’t be serious that they’re saying I refused a Breathalyzer. It was the exact opposite, actually – I asked for one. Begged for one. I knew it would put this entire misunderstanding to rest if I could just …’

      ‘Lina? You know Graham and I will have the very best people on this. So long as we all stay calm, I know we will work through—’

      The rest of his words garbled together as the repercussions of what had happened began to play slowly, full color, in her mind. She could practically see the headlines – SUPERMODEL–TURNED–SENATOR’S WIFE DRINKS WHILE DRIVING KIDDIES – and predict the intense media scrutiny and the humiliation of people believing she would do something like this. And Harry. Mostly Harry. Twelve-year-olds should be embarrassed by their stepmothers because of the jeans they wore, not because they were arrested for driving a car full of kids around drunk.

      Then another feeling, one that surprised her with its brute strength: a yearning for her husband that was so visceral, it nearly took her breath away. How had they gotten here? To a place where she’d spent the night in jail and her husband – her lifelong partner – had left her there and then sent his friend to retrieve her in the morning. No, this couldn’t be right. Something was going on, something out of their control. Yes, there had been some distance lately. She’d felt more disconnected from Graham than usual. There was less intimacy. She even suspected he might be cheating on her again. But this was Graham. The man who had made meticulous arrangements to ensure her entire extended family’s financial security. The person who told her at least ten times a day how gorgeous she was. She could remember their wedding like it was yesterday. The vibrant green vineyards had provided a gorgeous backdrop to the unexpected rain, which might have ruined the day for another couple, but not for them. They’d barely noticed, they were so wrapped up in dancing and laughing and each other. She’d sat at their shared table and looked up at her strong, handsome husband as he thanked everyone for celebrating with them. When he’d turned to her and extended his hand, she could see the tears in his eyes, and the toast he gave was so clearly heartfelt and true. And now this.

      Trip was still talking. Something about legal precedent. The fatigue was beginning to hit her, and the sadness and the humiliation and the loneliness all at once.

      ‘I’m exhausted,’ she said, again wiping her eyes. ‘Can you take me to get Harry?’

      ‘Of course. Let’s get you out of here.’

      They drove in silence to her mother-in-law’s house in Arlington. Trip pulled away the moment Karolina reached the front porch.

      ‘Karolina,’ Elaine said when she opened the door, as though she’d just tasted something bitter.

      ‘Elaine. Thank you for picking up Harry,’ Karoline forced herself to say as she placed her coat on the hallway bench and followed her mother-in-law, without invitation, to the kitchen.

      ‘Someone had to. And contact the parents of those other boys.’

      ‘Yes, well, thank you again. Where’s Harry?’

      ‘He’s still sleeping,’ her mother-in-law said. ‘It was a traumatic night for him.’

      Karolina pointedly ignored the woman, and when no offer was forthcoming, she rose to fix herself a cup of coffee. ‘Would you like one?’ she asked Elaine, who merely waved her off.

      ‘You’ve got a real … situation on your hands, Karolina. It’s none of my business, but if you’re having trouble, you should have sought help. But a DUI? The wife of a senator? Of the future president of the United States? It’s one thing not to think about yourself, but how could you not have considered Graham’s career?’

      ‘You mean Harry’s safety? I must have heard you wrong.’

      Elaine waved her off while making a clucking sound. ‘You know I don’t like to get involved in things between you and Graham, but this time the circumstances—’

      ‘Mother, please.’

      Graham’s voice caused Karolina to jump just enough to spill coffee down the front of her sweater. ‘Graham?’ she asked, although he was standing right there in front of her, looking handsome. Karolina waited for him to run and embrace her, and she extended her arms to receive him. He didn’t move. He stood in that doorway, glancing between his wife and his mother, looking like there was nowhere else on earth he’d less rather be. Everything about him was immaculate, from his custom shirt and pressed chinos to the thick dark hair he had cut every third Friday.


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