Magic for Liars: A Novel

it occurred to me that neither of us was the giggling kind. This was a performance we were putting on for each other. It was a shadow play of female camaraderie.

I didn’t want to let the Ivy I could have been get swept away by the Ivy I was. So I made a choice.

as if she had access to some well of wisdom that I’d never thought to drop a bucket into.

We had the crushing weight of things that had gone unsaid for so long that they’d calcified between us.

Part of me had wanted to invite her back to my bare little apartment in staff housing—me and her and a bottle of wine. I imagined us with our feet tucked up on the couch, leaning toward each other, smiling, laughing about things we’d forgotten. But it was a best-friend tableau I’d never actually experienced.

There it was again. That feeling like maybe, in another life, I could have fit in here.

I tried to summon the courage I imagined I’d have if this was a place I belonged.

it was a for-the-camera smile, a for-Dad smile.

After that, the only time I hugged her was for Dad and his camera, and even then, the camera hadn’t been pointed at us for five years or so. And Dad didn’t notice the time passing because he’d lost the person he had planned his entire life around. But other than that, everyone was okay.