“Hi!” she said, once she reached him, which was no easy feat. There was barely any space between people. She would hate to have to get out of there in a hurry.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” he said. “They are like lions, tigers, and—no, they are like Wolverines. I don’t think I could have held them off a minute longer. Please, sit, immediately.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“What took you so long?” he asked.
“Well, I wasn’t even necessarily planning to come,” she said. “It just sort of worked out.”
He looked at her incredulously. “It’s the Penn State game,” he finally said. “So many local and personal rivalries going on in this room right now. You can’t miss that.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “That’s why I came!” She didn’t have the energy to say that she got it, she really did, but that this wasn’t her thing. It was Stuart’s thing, and she was here because they had a good buffet of free food.
Toby turned his attention back to the game. She was glad to not have to talk. They watched in hushed horror as Penn State almost made a touchdown, but at the last second Michigan intercepted the ball and ran it all the way back. She was glad, she really was, but she worried about the colorful guy getting back up on the table. Everyone sang, and they started to pass the chair of the alumni association chapter around rock-concert style. Toby put out his hands to help support him as he came by, but Tabitha stepped back so she wouldn’t have to. As soon as the man was safely delivered to other outstretched hands, Toby looked at his phone.
“Shoot,” Toby said.
“What?”
“I have to be home in an hour to walk my dog. I just got a text from the dog walker that he couldn’t get in; the key didn’t work. That’s never happened before. She’s been alone for, let me think, about three hours. I might have two hours before I have to take her out. She’s a good dog, but dogs will be dogs, and she’s getting older.”
“I didn’t know you have a dog,” Tabitha said. It was a dumb thing to say—she didn’t know much about him at all. “What’s her name?”
“Yo-Adrian,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You mean her name is Adrian?”
“No, it’s Yo-Adrian. Her whole name is Yo-Adrian. I call her Yo-A mostly.”
Tabitha shook her head. That was the most clever dog name she’d ever heard. She loved it. She had always been a sucker for Rocky references.
“That is so great,” she said. “When I was a kid, we had a dog named Buster. We might as well have named him Dog, I guess.”
“No, Buster’s a great name,” Toby said, like he meant it. He reached out and took her hand. It was so startling and unexpected that she literally yanked it away.
“Sorry,” he said, as nicely as he’d said everything else. She waited for him to say more, to explain that he thought there was something between them, or that he was getting mixed signals, all the things people usually said when one reached out but the other didn’t reciprocate. But he didn’t. He just went back to watching the game.
Tabitha felt claustrophobic. She had to get out of there. She checked her phone, hoping a kid would need her, but nobody did. She was just sitting up straighter, getting ready with an excuse, but then Penn State scored, and the group at the other end of the huge bar screamed, “We are—” and everyone in their section mouthed, “Shit.” You could almost hear it, though not quite. It was like a ghost whisper.
“So, I’m planning my mother’s birthday party, and I could use a little help,” Toby said, like they were in the middle of a conversation. There was no indication that he was embarrassed or had any regret about trying to hold her hand. Had he actually tried to hold it, or had she imagined that? Now she wasn’t sure.
“How old is she?”
“She will be eighty years old,” he said, proudly. “I have a great idea. Want to hear it?”
“Sure,” she said, relaxing again.
“The theme is Uranus.”
She must have heard wrong.
“As in, your anus?”
“Yes, Uranus.”
“Wait, you mean like your butt?”
He smiled a slow smile.
“No, like the planet.”
He let it sink in. He had good timing, this guy.
“That’s a strange theme,” she finally said. “How about a garden party or Harry Potter? Did your mother read Harry Potter? Even a pirate party might be better. I always love a good pirate party. No, I know, a Wizard of Oz party! That was always my mother’s favorite. She loved recreating the yellow-brick road.”
She tried not to let her entire face change. Toby didn’t know anything about her mother. He didn’t know about her last few horrible days, he didn’t even know that she was dead.
“No, the Uranus party it is!” he said. “I am committed. I’ve been thinking about this since I learned about the planets in seventh grade. I always hoped she’d live long enough so I could do it.”
“Okay, so then I have two questions. How do you think I can help? And why Uranus?”
“Both very good questions,” Toby said, brushing a piece of maize confetti off of his leg. “I will give you the answers in the reverse order in which they were asked. Why Uranus? Because it takes a little over eighty years for the planet Uranus to orbit the Sun. From what I understand, that means that Uranus will travel all the way around the Sun once in many peoples’ lifetimes. How cool is that? In a perfect world, I might wait until my mother turns eighty-four. I think that might be a more precise number, but this is such a big birthday and well, you never know.”
He paused here, and Tabitha nodded.
“Also,” Toby continued, “and I have to give you some credit for mentioning this earlier, there is that intriguing idea that Uranus sounds like your anus, and in my experience, older people are more focused on that body part since so many people have trouble in that area as they get older.”
Toby took a breath before continuing, and Tabitha thought she should feel embarrassed—sheepish at the very least—but she didn’t. She thought it was a brilliant idea.
“I imagine lots of images of Uranus—with the word written out, so people can say it, and if that leads them to a discussion about their time in the bathroom, then so be it. The way I see it, these people have lived long enough to know what they do and do not want to talk about.”
Tabitha smiled.
“So, where do I come in?”
“Well you’ve already helped me by letting me talk it through,” he said, shouting a little over the roar of the crowd. “But I was hoping you could help me with the menu. That’s a tricky one. I mean, what sort of food do you serve at a Uranus party?”
“Space food?” Tabitha asked.
“Yes! Space food! I can get some of that freeze-dried ice cream, maybe make a big vat of soup or overcooked pasta or whatever the astronauts bring with them when they travel. It’s probably really mushy. Perfect for the guests we’ll be receiving.”
Tabitha laughed so hard she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t laughed like this in . . . weeks? Months? When was the last time?
She reached out and brushed another piece of confetti off of Toby’s hand. It was warm and soft, and suddenly she had an urge to squeeze it. She let her hand rest on his for a beat longer than seemed normal, then pulled it away.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“Now? But it’s the fourth quarter.”
“They’re gonna win despite that last touchdown. I just know it,” he said. “Come on, I have an idea.”
When they got up, Toby gathered his decorations, carefully folding the banners and placing them back in his backpack as two drunk girls, dressed completely in maize, pounced on the chairs, one sitting on Toby’s hand before he had a chance to move it. The girl didn’t even notice. He pulled his hand out and shook it, smiling, and then they pushed through the crowd and went out into the chilly evening. Tabitha hadn’t thought of the kids in a little while, but now s
he did.
“You know what?” she said, a little out of breath. “Eventually, I have to track down my kids and take care of them. How big a time commitment is this idea of yours?”
“Not too big,” he said. “Maybe thirty minutes, tops? I have to get home to Yo-A soon anyway. This is something I do sometimes. It might not work out. Timing is everything, as they say.”
“Okay,” she said, following him west on Spruce Street—actually toward her apartment—but he didn’t know that, so she felt okay about it.
“Where’s your daughter this weekend?” she asked.
“With her mom,” Toby said, and for a second Tabitha thought he wouldn’t say any more. But then, “Things have been pretty rough. She isn’t being very nice to me right now—my ex, that is—my daughter is the loveliest human being you have ever met. Well, that I’ve ever met. You probably feel that way about your own kids. Anyway, I don’t blame her, really, at all. Truth be told, there was an incident that sparked our downfall, and it was my fault, so, I guess, I get what I deserve.”
Tabitha was beyond curious, but if she asked him to explain, then she’d feel like she owed him an explanation of her own.
“I’m really sorry,” she said.
“Yeah, so am I.”
At Eighteenth Street he guided her right, and for a second, Tabitha panicked. Did he actually know where she lived? She tried to go over everything they had ever talked about to remember if she had told him. No, she wouldn’t do that. She barely knew him. She was happy when he stopped to cross the street toward Rittenhouse Square.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Okay, I’ll tell you, because I don’t want you to be disappointed. We’re going to this great coffee place called La Colombe, do you know it? Because at closing time they give away all the baked goods that are left at the end of the day. Now, when I say timing is everything, I mean it, because there might be none left, or there might already be so many people there that we won’t be able to grab any. We’ll see.”
Tabitha couldn’t believe it. She had once practically lived at La Colombe. Though, obviously, she hadn’t enjoyed one of their luscious cappuccinos in way too long. And free food? Was he kidding? How come she didn’t know about that? But the bigger question might be, why did he want to get free food? Did he somehow know she needed it? Did he suspect, since she was always pilfering the buffet at the Fox & Hound? Or did he need free food?
It looked like their timing was perfect because, while the place was still crowded enough, no one seemed particularly interested in the food that had been placed on top of the glass counter. There were cheese croissants, mini challah loaves, whole baguettes. There were chocolate scones and coffee cakes. Her mouth was already watering.
“Take a bag and fill it,” he said, pointing to the stack of large, brown-paper bags.
“Okay,” she said, grabbing a bag.
They were quiet while they each filled their bags. When they were finished, there were still some pastries left over, but she didn’t want to appear too greedy. She wondered if they’d have a picnic in the Square, or if they’d just say good-bye, and each take their loot back to their own homes.
“Now what?” she asked, tucking the stuffed bag under her arm.
“Now we find some homeless people.”
Levi couldn’t believe his eyes. Was that his mother? And who was that man?
He had been sitting at La Colombe for over an hour, trying to pull himself together, still carrying that stupid cup of coffee he had bought that morning. Really, thank goodness he did, because having that in front of him made him feel like he had a right to be there, like he could sit as long as he wanted to. But the place was closing and he had to leave and go somewhere else, probably home, but that was the last place he wanted to go.
Someone had just announced the free food, apparently they actually let people take the things that were left over. And he was going to get up to take some. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but he knew they were eating very strangely lately, and there was never really quite enough. Some extra bread sounded really good.
So he was about to get up and take some stuff, when he saw his mother come in. He turned so fast back to his table that he knocked down the cup, which was still almost full, and he hunched over, trying to look as invisible as possible. She was never going to not see him; he knew that. She had eagle eyes. But she barely glanced around, and she and the man stuffed those bags so full and walked out.
The day had been a disaster. He never made it to The Family Meal. It was so hard to find it, and the buses, they were so complicated! He spent all his money trying to get there, and between buses, cabs, and one burger along the way—all fifty of the dollars were gone. He felt so stupid. And dirty. And where the hell was his father? He checked his email one more time, seeing if by chance his father might have written, maybe, finally, today. When there was nothing, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He started a new email to his father, using the only email address he had for him. He hadn’t wanted to do this, he didn’t want to reach out to him and have him not reach back. That was his worst fear. At least now he could tell himself his father didn’t know how much he missed him, he didn’t know that he was desperate for some word from him. But maybe that’s what his father needed to know to get in touch. Maybe his father was so busy that he just didn’t realize how important this was.
Dear Dad,
Where exactly are you and when are you coming back? I wanted you to know that I am working with The Family Meal for my BM project and they seem great. But I do have some questions. Can you call or write back? Soon? And one more thing, I spent your money so can you send more? I didn’t spend it on stupid stuff like video games, I spent it trying to get to The Family Meal. I know how much you care about that so please help. Okay? This is hard without you.
Love,
Levi
He didn’t even read through it, like his mother always told him to do. He just pressed “send.” When there was no bounce-back notification, nothing saying he was out of the office, or out of the country, or out of his normal life, Levi felt vaguely satisfied. He grabbed the last challah roll and headed home to an empty apartment.
CHAPTER TEN
Tabitha didn’t remember ever being wooed by Stuart when they were dating. He was kind and dependable, two qualities her previous boyfriends had not had, qualities that seemed most important in choosing a husband. Also, they were so compatible. They liked to go to bed at the same time, they both wanted to have two children, they agreed to have fish for dinner at least two nights a week. Who cared if he was a little distant, if there were times he seemed to be thinking about things other than what was right in front of him? She was done with the craziness of being so in love with someone that it hurt. That was young love, not married love. She wasn’t looking for that anymore. She didn’t remember ever thinking about Stuart—Huh, he’s funny, or Huh, he’s clever, or I wonder when I’ll see him again, all thoughts she was surprised to have in relation to Toby. With Stuart, there hadn’t been any real surprises, not until recently anyway.
Well, there was that one surprise. The one that now basically informed everything, she guessed. They had already been dating for eight months, they had just gotten engaged two days before, when Stuart said there was something weighing on him, something he had to tell her. She was so trusting. Now that she looked back on it, she couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t the least bit worried about what he was going to tell her. She imagined it would be something about the wedding—his mother insisting on a certain type of flower or a certain type of cake. Or maybe about where he wanted to live. Anywhere but the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, she remembered thinking.
Even though they were engaged, they weren’t living together yet. It was late at night, but he said he would be right over. They spent the occasional night together, though that was more and more rare as they got deeper into planning the wedding; they were always so tired, they just wan
ted to go home and sleep in their own beds. When she opened the door that night he looked pale, she remembered thinking, and she wondered if he wasn’t feeling well.
“Sit down,” he said.
She did.
“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you this before. I was going to. And then, well, so much time went by, it seemed hard to find the right way to bring it up. It’s like when you recognize someone at say, school or something from last year, but you don’t say anything, and eventually more time goes by, and it gets harder and harder to say something. Or if someone has a loss, say a beloved dog dies, and you don’t . . .”
“Stuart, I get it. You wish you had told me sooner. What is it?”
“I was almost married before,” he said. “I was engaged to someone before you.”
“That’s okay,” Tabitha said, a little confused, wishing he weren’t making it such a big deal. Was it a big deal? “Lots of people almost get married to someone before finding the actual right person.”
At the time, she had a lot of hope that she was the actual right person for him, and that he was for her. But he hadn’t grabbed on to that as a defense. It would have been easy enough to do. He let her statement go by without acknowledging it. Was that my first moment of doubt? she wondered. No, not really, that had come later. Looking back though, it should have been.
“Is that everything?” Tabitha finally asked, after what seemed like minutes went by.
“I suppose so,” he said.
“Well, okay then. Thank you for telling me.”
What she didn’t know at the time, what he didn’t tell her until later, was that the person he had been engaged to marry before her was named Abigail Golding. She was a freshman at the University of Michigan when he was a junior, and they fell in love quickly. After that, they were never apart. He went on to the law school there while she finished her undergraduate education, and then she stayed in Ann Arbor working at the Borders bookstore while he finished his last year of law school. She was from Petoskey, the upper part of the Lower Peninsula, but was happy to move to Marquette on the Upper Peninsula. She had a dream to open a rec center for bored teenagers, where she would encourage literacy. She was going to do incredible things, change lives—that’s how Stuart put it anyway. They were to be married at a family friend’s house right on Lake Superior in early August. It was all planned; everyone was invited. Five days before the wedding, before any of the guests arrived, she called it off.
Not Perfect Page 12
