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fun in his life as possible without betraying her. She visualizes it sometimes, a naked Bobby trying to manage Chrissy Nolan and her long colt legs in the back room of the Leaf. It always makes her laugh.
    Good for you, Bobby, she thinks.
    Doesn’t stop her from shooting Chrissy Nolan nasty looks every time she sees her. Doesn’t stop her from enjoying the fact that Chrissy Nolan is no longer thin and spry but thick and desperate, that her skin, once as pale and delicate as an eggshell, has grown ruddy with age and alcohol, that the alluring brown locks have become a mess of short, tangled hair dyed blond on the cheap.
    “So you haven’t gotten laid in like nine years?”
    Stephanie is swinging from side to side in the door frame. Tina regrets this entire conversation, regrets having asked Stephanie to watch the kids in the first place. She should have asked Amy or Gail. But Amy’s in Florida and Gail, well, she couldn’t very well ask Gail.
    “I would have fucked half the Island by now,” Stephanie says ruefully.
    No doubt, Tina thinks.
    The doorbell rings.
    “So what’s this guy Wade like?”
    Tina thinks for a beat and then answers.
    “He’s different.”
    “Meaning?”
    Tina hears the front door open downstairs. She hears Bobby Jr.’s excited hello. She can’t hear the substance of Wade’s reply, but the tenor of his voice soothes her. She wants to be away from Stephanie, in the car with Wade. She’s missed him, she realizes, and that’s both scary and reassuring. Stephanie walks out into the hallway, shouts to Wade that Tina will be down in a few minutes. She reenters the bathroom with a grin.
    “He’s cute.”
    Tina is almost done. She flexes her eyes taut, applies some eyeliner.
    “And rich.”
    “Steph, how could you even tell that?”
    “Tell me I’m wrong.”
    “I don’t know. He lives in Manhattan. He’s friends with Peter.”
    “So he’s rich.”
    “I guess so.”
    Why is she doing this, making her feel bad? What difference does it make? Why is she denying it? Yes. He’s rich. So what?
    “So that’s what you meant when you said ‘different’.”
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    She turns, done with the mirror.
    “How do I look?”
    “Hot. Classy.”
    Tina looks down. She bought a new outfit for the night. A simple black dress. Prada. She tries to remember whether she ever wore anything this expensive when she was with Bobby. Probably not. They were kids. She feels like a fraud. She wants reassurance from Stephanie that what she is doing is okay, that it’s not a betrayal, that nine and a half years is an appropriate amount of time, that Bobby would be okay with this. But she’s cautious about showing Stephanie a softness. Something in Stephanie’s behavior tonight makes Tina think of fishes being gutted.
    “What is he anyway, Wade? Another mick? Definitely not eyetie.”
    “He’s nothing.” She shrugs. “You know, American.”
    Tina takes a red silk wrap out of the closet. Another new purchase. The receipt from Saks flashes in her head, four digits before the decimal. Only two items: the dress and the wrap. Absurd. And then the thought, impossible to resist, that the money for these things, things intended to impress another man, is a direct result of Bobby’s death. She wouldn’t have shopped at Saks while Bobby was alive; she barely knew it existed. Bobby’s death made her a different woman, in more ways than she could have guessed. Almost everything about her has changed, but the guilt remains.
    Stephanie grabs Tina’s purse, puts the pack of Marlboro Lights in it.
    “For later,” she says with a wink. She hugs Tina and kisses her cheek. “Have fun.”
    “Thanks, Steph.”
    “Where is he taking you anyway?”
    “Some place in the city. Per Something.”
    “Per Se?”
    “That’s it.”
    The expression on Stephanie’s face is equal parts admiration and envy. She raises her right hand, rubs her thumb over the tips of her index and middle fingers in a