The Invisibles

by Cecilia Galante

  Nora realized that she and Grace were both looking at Ozzie, whose face was scrunched up into a knot. She wondered if Ozzie felt the same sort of hesitation that she did, not because of the reasons she’d just given or the ones she hadn’t, but because this was a knee-deep issue involving people who were still only ankle-deep with one another. There had been a time when none of them would have hesitated at Monica’s request, when the only possible wrinkle might have been finding someone to drive them to New York City. But that time was over. Long over. And, Nora found herself realizing wistfully, that fact was never more apparent than right now.

  “Yeah, I mean it sounds nice, but I think they’re both right,” Ozzie said slowly. “You can’t fuck around with stuff like this, Mons. Seriously. Just let your attorney handle it. It’ll work out.”

  “All right.” Monica ran both hands roughly through her hair. “Okay.”

  “You’re not angry, are you?” Grace took her hand.

  “No, of course not.” Monica squeezed it back. “You’re right. You’re all right. I’m the one who isn’t thinking clearly.”

  “Will you let us know?” Nora asked. “I mean, how it all turns out?”

  “Of course.” Monica choked on the last word. She looked around the room wildly for a moment, as if trying to place herself. “I still have some last-minute packing to do. Upstairs. I’ll be down in a little bit.”

  They watched her walk out of the room, the heavy soles of her Gucci loafers making a clunking sound against the floor. Nora sat back down and took a sip of her coffee. It was barely warm. She felt shaky inside, as if the floor had just lurched suddenly beneath her feet. Ozzie remained standing, occupying her foot against the leg of the chair, and Grace began stacking dirty plates.

  “You know, fifteen years ago, none of us would have blinked if she’d asked us to do this,” Ozzie said without lifting her head.

  Nora closed her eyes, but she wasn’t surprised. Not really. Maybe they were a little more than ankle-deep after all.

  “I know.” Grace set a plate down. “But it’s not fifteen years ago anymore. We’re different people now, Ozzie.”

  “Are we?” Ozzie lifted her head.

  “Yeah.” Nora looked directly across the table, holding Ozzie’s gaze. “We are.”

  For a moment Ozzie stared back, as if deliberating her answer. “Well, so what?” she said finally. “People change. Life happens. That’s how it goes.”

  “We’re not kids anymore, Ozzie,” Grace said. “This is serious business.”

  “Are you telling me that the things we dealt with as kids weren’t serious business?” Ozzie asked. “How about that last night at Turning Winds? You can’t tell me that that wasn’t some of the most serious business we’ve ever encountered in our whole lives.”

  Nora stood up. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “Why not?” Ozzie challenged.

  Why not? Was she kidding? Comparing an abortion to a person with legal woes? Had Ozzie lost her mind completely?

  “The circumstances are different,” Ozzie said, “but the feelings are the same. Monica’ll be going through one of the most frightening experiences of her life tomorrow. And she’ll be doing it alone. Or at least without us.”

  Nora and Grace exchanged a look.

  “Well, even if you’re right, I can’t go,” Grace said plainly. “I just can’t. It’s impossible for me right now, with ev—”

  “We didn’t get to do Who Wants What at the meeting last night,” Ozzie said quickly. “We already know what Monica wants, so I’ll go next.” She paused, looking first at Nora and then at Grace. “I want my road trip. With all of you. Chicago to New York.”

  “You’re not listening.” Grace was shaking her head, fiddling with a loose curl. “I can’t leave, Ozzie. I just can’t. With the baby, and trying to get myself back on a regular schedule . . .” She closed her eyes. “It would just—”

  “Just answer the question first,” Ozzie said. “What do you want?”

  Grace exhaled softly and put a hand on her hip. “What I want and what I need are two different things.”

  “I didn’t ask you what you needed,” Ozzie persisted. “I asked you what you wanted. Why is that so hard to answer?”

  Grace examined the nail on her thumb for a moment and then began nibbling the edges of it. “I want to go.” Her voice trembled. “But I can’t! Things are different now. We’ve all—”

  “We came for you.” Ozzie’s nostrils flared. “You told Henry that was what you wanted, and we came.”

  Grace squinted. “That’s not fair.”

  “Why not?” Ozzie squinted. “You needed us, we came. We wanted to come. Now Monica needs us.”

  Grace pulled on her lower lip.

  “Don’t push her,” Nora pleaded, looking at Ozzie. “She can’t right now. It’s not—”

  “No.” Nora stopped talking as Grace dropped her hand from her mouth. “No, it’s okay, Nora,” she said. “I’m in. I’ll go.”

  “That just leaves you, Norster.” Ozzie waited, biting her nails.

  “I have work tomorrow,” Nora said.

  “You can’t call in?” Ozzie asked. “Explain the situation?”

  “You wouldn’t have to explain the situation in detail,” Grace offered. “Maybe just tell them it’s some kind of emergency.”

  Nora dropped her eyes.

  “What do you want right now, Nora?” Grace asked.

  She was surprised that deep down, past her fear, the desire to go with them churned like some kind of glowing lava. She wanted to spend more time with all of them, to wring out every last second that she could before they all went their separate ways again. Or was that something she thought she’d wanted? The truth was that spending the last twenty-four hours with these women had been one of the hardest things she could remember doing in a long time. And they hadn’t even scratched the surface yet, not really. No, she had to get back. She longed for her walks and the library and Alice Walker, the things in her life that centered her. That needed her. This? This was a little bit of madness. Maybe even insanity. Why would she put herself in a situation like that?

  And yet Monica needed her. Monica needed her now in a way that each of them had needed the others at one time or another. And she wanted to give her that. She wanted to be there with her. After all these years, Monica had finally told them something she wanted besides a hug. She needed Nora now maybe just as much as Nora had needed her once.

  “Nora?” Grace’s face was peaked, and her mascara had smudged beneath her eyes.

  Maybe just as much as Nora needed all of them still, whether she liked it or not.

  Chapter 18

  Grace and Ozzie and Monica left the table to pack, but Nora headed out to the backyard and took out her phone. The empty wine bottle Monica had used last night was lying on its side, the blue-green glass littered with fingerprints, and the candle they had set in the middle of their circle had melted down to a nub. She walked over to the other side of the lawn and sat down in one of the chairs. She noticed she was pulling on her other ear nervously and forced her hand into her lap as the ringing started.

  “Marion?” Nora startled as the familiar voice picked up on the other end. “Is that you?”

  “Nora?” Marion’s voice went up three notches.

  “Yes, it’s me. Marion, why are you picking up Trudy’s cell phone? Is everything okay?”

  “Oh yes, darling.” Marion sighed with gusto. “I came over last night, and we had a few glasses of wine, and we must’ve both fallen asleep. Her cell phone is so loud; it just woke me up. Hold on a minute.” Nora could hear a faint patting sound and Marion whispering outside of the receiver. “Wake up, Trudes. It’s our Nora.”

  Our Nora. Her heart swelled at the words.

  “Nora!” Trudy’s voice barreled through the phone as she cleared her throat. Nora held the receiver away from her ear and winced. “My God, what time it is? What’s going on? The three amigos not treating you well?
”

  Suddenly she felt foolish. Here she was, a thirty-two-year-old woman, calling two old ladies before they’d even had breakfast because . . . Because why? Because she was unsure of something? Because she was afraid of making another decision that might alter the rest of her life?

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t realize how—”

  “It’s fine, it’s fine.” Trudy cut her off impatiently. “The dog’s fine too, by the way, although I hope to God that’s not why you’re calling. I did take her out to look at the moon last night. Like you asked. She howled, the damn thing, like some kind of werewolf. Scared the living daylights out of me.”

  A scuffling sound came through the line, followed by Marion’s voice, hissing and muted.

  “Nora.” Marion’s voice came back on the line all at once. “Talk to me, darling. What’s going on? What do you need?”

  “I was wondering if I could take tomorrow off.” Nora stammered. “I mean, I know it wasn’t really planned, but—”

  “She wants to take tomorrow off,” Marion whispered loudly.

  “Take the week!” Trudy yelled in the background. “Hell, take the month if you need it!”

  “I don’t need a week. I’ll be back on Tuesday. I just wanted to make sure—”

  “We’re completely sure,” Marion said kindly. “It’s no problem at all.”

  “Okay,” Nora said. “Thanks.”

  “Is that everything, dear?”

  No, it was not everything. She hadn’t even started.

  “Well, I . . . I was hoping I could . . . I just need to talk. To you. To both of you.” Nora took a deep breath and then let it out. “Can you hold the phone so Trudy can hear, too?”

  “Of course.” More rustling and then: “Okay, darling, we’re ready. We can both hear you.”

  “But speak up anyway!” Trudy demanded. “My ears are shot!”

  She told them about Monica and the stolen money. And then because she wasn’t quite sure they understood how important Monica was to her, she told them about Grace and Ozzie too, and a little bit about Turning Winds: how they had all grown up together there, how they had become women under thirty full moons. She told them about the just-cobbled-together road trip to New York City, and how frightened she was to go on it with them because . . . well, she didn’t have a because really. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough. Maybe the expectation and the happiness and the sorrow and the pain of the last twenty-four hours had wrung her dry.

  Or maybe she had nothing left to give.

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line after Nora stopped talking. She did not know when she had started to cry, but she could feel the tears sliding down her face. She wiped at them with the back of her wrist as they collected at the bottom of her chin and then blew her nose. “Hello?” Her voice was faint. “Are you still there?”

  “We’re here,” Marion whispered. “Don’t worry, we’re here.”

  She felt something lift at Marion’s words, a sudden easing of a burden that until that very moment she had not known was so heavy.

  “I think you already know the answer.” Trudy’s voice was gentler than Nora expected, and it brought new tears to her eyes. “You’re calling us for our take on things, but I think you know exactly what you need to do.”

  Henry appeared in the yard just then, looking frightened. Nora held up one finger and he nodded, leaving again.

  “But what if it’s a mistake?” she whispered into the phone.

  “Then it’s a mistake!” Trudy’s voice barreled through the phone. “Is the world going to end if you make a mistake? Hell, I could fill an entire book with all the mistakes I’ve made in my life.”

  “Me too!” Nora couldn’t help but smile as Marion’s voice drifted faintly through the phone. She could picture her standing on tiptoe, trying to make her voice heard. “Mistakes are how we learn, Nora.”

  “But . . .”

  “But what?” Trudy sounded exasperated.

  Nora opened her mouth and then shut it again. What could she say? That it might be too big a mistake? That another twenty-four or forty-eight hours with Grace and Ozzie and Monica could change her, maybe irrevocably this time? That it might take her another ten years to recover from it?

  “Listen to me, Nora Walker.” Trudy’s voice was stern, uncompromising. “I don’t know who or what taught you to be so afraid of everything in your life, but I’m telling you right now, it’s no way to live.”

  “Gentle,” Marion whispered.

  “It’s no way to live!” Trudy barked. “If you keep tiptoeing through every situation that comes your way, you know what you’re going to end up with?”

  Nora blinked.

  “High arches!” Trudy hissed.

  “High arches?”

  “High arches!” Trudy repeated. “And a bad back. Not many people I know can make progress with high arches and bad backs.”

  “Do you even know anyone with high arches and a bad back?” Marion whispered.

  “Shhhh!” said Trudy. “For God’s sake, I’m trying to make a point here, Marion!”

  Nora bit her tongue so that she wouldn’t giggle. She loved these women. Both of them could have been part of The Invisibles back then and held their own in the group. And yet she was glad they hadn’t been. Right now, the two of them felt like another kind of family—one she needed just as much as The Invisibles.

  “My point,” Trudy started again, but Nora interjected gently.

  “I know what you mean, Trudy.”

  “You do?” Trudy sounded wary.

  “I do,” she whispered into the phone.

  “Don’t be afraid.” Trudy’s voice was vehement. “Go with your girls, Nora. Take the trip. See what happens. You might be surprised.”

  She hung up a few seconds later, Trudy’s words reverberating in her ears. She would go. She would see where it took her. Even if it just brought her to a place she never expected. Which could even end up being the reason she went in the first place.

  “Nora.” Henry stepped out into the back porch. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to bother you. But Petal just told me what happened. And she’s a nervous wreck about it, but she’s going to New York. I told her it wasn’t a good idea, since it’s completely out of the regular routine we’ve been trying to establish for her, but she’s absolutely insistent.”

  Nora nodded, examining him up close, maybe for the first time since she’d arrived. Grace was right. He did have a quiet, innate kindness about him. And very beautiful lips. She blushed as he pressed something in her hand. “Please, will you just make sure she takes her medicine?”

  Nora looked down at the orange bottle in her hand; the white band on the outside was encrypted with dark lettering:

  GRACE FALCHECK: RISPERDAL.

  Take two times a day with food.

  She’d never heard of Risperdal, had no idea what it was for. But the frightening feeling she had earlier when Grace was explaining her paintings was back. This was more than postpartum depression. A piece of the puzzle was still missing. Something was off.

  “She . . . she doesn’t take it?” she asked. “On her own?”

  “Well, I’m sure she would.” Henry sounded desperate. “It’s just. . . . well, since July when everything happened, I’ve been making sure she takes it. She’s used to me giving her a pill at breakfast and then again at dinner. I just . . . with the sudden change in circumstance . . . I’m afraid she’d forget.” He stopped all at once, pressing a clenched fist against his forehead. “I know it must sound weird, like I’m treating her like a child. I don’t mean to. I know she’s an adult . . . perfectly capable . . .” He pressed his lips together as his voice drifted off, and for a moment Nora thought she might have caught a glimpse of what he had endured—and continued to endure—throughout his life with his wife. Grace was not perfectly capable at all, had not been even close to capable for probably much longer than any of them knew. He was the one who had to pi
ck up the slack. He was the one who had picked up the pieces. “This medication is the only thing that’s going to keep her well.” Henry said this last statement with finality, as if the discussion was over. “If you could just make sure she takes it at breakfast, and then again with dinner, I’ll be able to get through the next few days a little more easily.”

  She closed her fingers around the thin bottle. It was so light in her hand, such an inconsequential thing in the scheme of all that had become so urgent. Maybe it didn’t matter if she didn’t know all the details. Maybe the details were secondary. The most important thing was Grace. Just the way she was right now, at this moment.

  “Of course,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Chapter 19

  It was ten a.m. by the time everyone got into the car. Nora pretended not to watch as Henry and Grace said their goodbyes in front of the house, but it was hard to look away. Despite his anxiety, there was an ease to the way he touched her, smoothing the palm of his hand over her forehead and then letting it slide down the small of her back until hooking it along a belt loop on the outside of her jeans. Even the way he kissed her seemed easy; full on the mouth, with no hesitation at all. You are mine, his movements seemed to say. And I am yours.

  Theo had never kissed her in front of anyone; they had never gotten comfortable enough for that. In private, though, he had kissed her with such confidence and sometimes with such urgency that she felt as if he were sucking the breath out of her body. It was an alarming feeling at first, but it morphed quickly into a deep pleasure, one she would return to again and again as she lay in bed at night and thought of him. Now, watching Henry with Grace, she felt that same kind of longing pulse through her and then settle like a stone in the pit of her stomach. She needed to get hold of herself, bring herself back to reality. She wasn’t really shocked to hear that Theo had gotten married; it would have been odd if he hadn’t. He probably had children now too, maybe a boy that looked like a miniature version of him, or a girl that had the same eyelashes as his wife. It was a good thing, him being married, moving on, creating a life. It was what people did, how life worked.