Or, more insidiously, had she just taken the cautious route time and time again? Had she cut off more and more potential branches of life until it had narrowed to just one?
Was Margaret scared of love? Could that be it? Had she left the building just around the time everybody else started hooking up?
Tibby looked at Margaret beseechingly. She wanted to say or do something to make Margaret feel comfortable, but she could not figure out for the life of her what that might be.
“Do you like pasta?” Tibby asked. “I’ve heard it’s pretty good here.”
Margaret looked at her menu as though it were a devilishly tricky test. “I’m not sure,” she said faintly.
“You could just get a salad,” Tibby suggested. “Or if you don’t like this kind of food, I totally understand.”
Margaret nodded. “Maybe a salad…”
Tibby felt a stab of sadness, because she knew Margaret wanted to please her, too. Margaret was desperately uncomfortable, but she didn’t want to let Tibby down.
Who was doing whom the favor in this exercise?
Slowly the hot air of righteousness leaked out of Tibby, and she realized what an idiot she was. She had dragged poor Margaret far out of her comfort zone, congratulating herself on doing Margaret this great charity. But Tibby wasn’t giving solace to a lonely woman; she was basically torturing her. What had she been thinking?
“Maybe I don’t feel like Italian food,” Tibby said brightly, wanting only to offer Margaret some salvation. “Why don’t we walk back by the theater and grab some ice cream and then I’ll walk you to the bus stop?”
Margaret look colossally relieved, and that gave Tibby a small piece of happiness. “Sure thing.”
As they walked, Tibby remembered how her uncle Fred had this line he brought out on the occasion of nearly all family birthdays. Her parents would moan about their children growing older, and he’d say, “Growing up is for crap, but it’s better than the alternative.”
Well, for the first time Tibby realized there was an alternative. It was walking right next to Tibby, licking her orange Creamsicle and breaking Tibby’s heart.
“He caught me again,” Carmen told Lena, sipping her iced cappuccino and enjoying the air conditioning at the Starbucks on Connecticut Avenue.
“What do you mean?” Lena asked. She wasn’t eating her cookie, and Carmen really wanted it.
“Win caught me in another random act of kindness at the hospital.”
Lena laughed. “Busted.”
“I feel like I was shoplifting or something. I didn’t know what to say to explain myself.”
“Did you tell him it was an accident? You didn’t mean it? You’ll never do it again as long as you live, so help you God?”
Carmen laughed too. “Good Carmen strikes again. What are we going to do with that girl?”
“Tie her up in the bathroom.”
“Good idea.”
Lena was squinting at her in thought. “Maybe you actually are Good Carmen. Have you ever thought of that?”
Carmen considered the way she’d knowingly polished off her mother’s last coveted pint of Ben & Jerry’s the night before. “Nah.”
Lena still wasn’t eating her cookie, so Carmen broke off a piece of it and ate it. “So guess who’s sleeping on my couch tomorrow night?” Carmen asked.
“Who?”
“Paul Rodman. He’s driving up from South Carolina and I convinced him to crash here. I haven’t seen him in months.”
Lena shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“He asked about you.”
Lena nodded timidly.
“He always does. It’s the part of the conversation he actually initiates.”
Lena looked down at her large feet in their large cork-bottomed flip-flops. “How’s his dad?” she asked.
Carmen stopped chewing. She had been corresponding with Paul by e-mail. She got more words out of him that way. “He’s not good. Paul drives hours to see him every week. It’s so sad.”
Lena was nodding as Carmen’s cell phone rang. Carmen scratched around in the bottom reaches of her bag until she found it.
“Hey?”
“Carmen, hi. It’s David.”
“What’s up?” Most of the warmth in her voice evaporated.
“I just wanted to thank you. The way you took care of your mother yesterday. You don’t know how much it meant to her. And to me, too. I wanted to be there so bad myself and I really just can’t tell you how—”
“It’s fine,” Carmen interrupted. “No problem.”
“Really, Carmen. I really—”
“Okay.” She didn’t want him to keep going on about this. “Are you still in St. Louis?”
“No, I’m home,” he said heavily.
Why was she annoyed at him? It wasn’t his fault he worked like a dog. He had a family to provide for now. He took his responsibilities seriously. Blah blah blah.
“So I’ll see you later,” she said.
“Oh, Carmen—one other thing?”
“Yeah?”
“I left my phone recharger in the hotel in St. Louis. Could I borrow yours?” It was well known that they had the exact same cell phone. Sometimes it seemed like the only conversation piece between them. He had the ring that sounded like a polka. He thought it was hugely entertaining.
“Sure. It’s in the outlet by my night table,” she said.
“The hotel said they’d send mine back. I told them I’m going to need it.”
Why were there conversations always so stilted? “Yep. You are,” Carmen said. “Well, bye.”
“Bye.”
She hung up. When she put her phone back in her bag, she realized the recharger was coiled in the bottom of it. Oh. Oops.
Lena was squinting, trying to figure out whom Carmen was talking to. “David?” she finally guessed.
“Yeah.”
“I knew it wasn’t anybody you liked very much.”
“I like him all right,” Carmen said, the slightest petulance creeping into her voice. She sighed. “I should be nicer, shouldn’t I?”
“I’m not answering that.”
Carmen got a mischievous smile on her face. “I know what to do. I’ll invite Win to have dinner with my mom and me and David.” She laughed. “That’ll set him straight.”
Tibby:
Beach equipment & tunes.
No techno crap, as per discussion.
Bee and Me:
Food. A lot. Mostly high-calorie snacks with
extra trans fats. (I think I like those. What
are they, anyway?)
Lena:
Other household goods.