Carrie stood up and yawned. "Does anyone know where the bathroom is?"
Carrie did not go to the bathroom. Nor was she as drunk as she appeared to be. Instead, she tiptoed up the stairs, carpeted with an oriental runner, and thought that if she were Jolie, she would probably know what kind of oriental rug it was because that was the kind of stuff you were supposed to know if you were married to a rich banker and making him a home in the suburbs.
She went into Johe's bedroom. There was a thick white carpet on the floor and photographs everywhere in silver frames, some professional-looking shots of Johe in a bathing suit, her long blond hair swinging over her shoulders.
Carrie stared at those photographs for a long time. What was it like to be Johe? How did it happen? How did you find someone who fell in love with you and gave you all this? She was thirty-four and she'd never even come close, and there was a good chance she never would.
And this was the kind of life she'd grown up believing she could have, simply because she wanted it. But the men you wanted didn't want it, or you; and the men who did want it were too boring. She went into the bathroom. Floor-to-ceiling black marble. A bidet. Maybe suburban husbands wouldn't play ball unless their wives were just-washed, unlike guys in the city. Then she almost screamed.
There was a fourteen-by-seventeen color photograph of Jolie, Demi Moore-style, naked save for a skimpy negligee that was open in the front to reveal humongous tits and a huge belly. Johe was staring proudly into the camera, her hand resting just above her belly button, which had been pushed straight out like a httle stem. Carrie flushed the toilet and ran breathless down the stairs.
"We're opening presents," Brigid scolded.
Carrie sat down in a chair next to Miranda. "What's your problem?" Miranda asked.
"Photograph. In the master bathroom. Check it out," Carrie said. "Excuse me," Miranda said, leaving the room. "What are you two doing?" Jolie asked.
"Nothing," Carrie said. She looked at the bride-to-be, who was holding up a pair of red silk, crotchless panties bordered in black lace. Everyone was laughing. Which is what you do at showers.