by Hope Lyda
“Angelica, over here!” I finally catch her eye. She rushes over to me. The boy follows her, clearly enamored with Angelica.
“Mari. I wrote down the wrong flight information. We would have missed you completely, but Sadie called to double-check when we are meeting up for breakfast. Thank goodness she had the information in her Palm. Harry and I would have stayed at the mall watching the pet store reptiles.”
“Harry!” I say to the nicely dressed young man and give him a quick hug.
He is not shy at all, but rather poised and proper.
“Spitting image of his dad, wouldn’t you say?” Angelica gives Harry an incredulous smile.
“Absolutely.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Louise in her pale blue track suit shuffling toward me.
“Shall we go? I’m starved.”
Before we can get out the revolving door, Louise brushes up next to me and whispers in my ear, “Unless you are dating a midget, hold on to that card, honey.”
Break Fast
Angelica, dear, does Sadie know you have confiscated Harry?”
“Sadie had to go in to work for an early meeting and Carson is out of town for the day. So we are heading to Freddies to meet up with Caitlin and, eventually, Sadie. Besides, Harry and I have been having a very good discussion about love.”
I stretch my head out over the front seat. “Do tell. I’m floundering a bit in that area.”
Angelica gives me a concerned glance. We haven’t talked lately and apparently she doesn’t know about Beau’s visit. I throw her a “We’ll talk later” look.
Harry straightens his tie and begins quietly at first. “It is complicated. That is the best way I can put it.”
“Amen!” I cry.
He politely rubs his ear. “Dad loved my mom and they had me. Mom and Dad still love me, but they aren’t in love with each other. My mom has Trevor and Dad has Sadie, whom I like very much. And in a way, we all have each other. We just happen to have a bigger circle of love than other families.”
“Isn’t he smart?” Angelica praises. “I told him about what I have been doing for the past year, and he had great advice. Tell her, Harry.”
“Well, Mari, you know Angelica much better than I do. So this is an outsider’s humble observation. But I believe Angelica started with a good choice to take love more seriously than she had in the past.”
“I agree.”
He raises his hand. “But she eventually replaced true love with the fear of love. She’s frozen, like a frog in biology class.”
“Biology? Aren’t you ten?”
His dark eyes peer up at me. “I’m practically at the height of my academic career in prep school.”
“Oh, sorry. Angelica, would you agree with this assessment?”
“Completely. I have traded love for fear. I’ve been stuck. It is all so clear now,” she says, half kidding but with an element of serious awareness.
“Harry, how’d you get to be the expert?” I ask our brilliant guest as we enter Freddies.
His small, heart-shaped face turns in my direction. “A girl named Danny.”
“A girl named Danny? That sounds like an after-school special.”
“Short for Danielle. She’s much tougher than most of the girls. Most of the boys, for that matter. I love her.”
Caitlin comes running up to me and hugs me tight. Her approach is so quick, I can only get a glimpse of something disturbing on her head. She reintroduces herself to Harry as if he were five rather than a mature ten. I whisper this to her, but Harry hears me.
“I just turned eleven, by the way.” He points to Caitlin. “You’re the one with the funky clothing store. Very eclectic.”
Caitlin raises her thin eyebrows. “Thank you.”
“Our old table even!” I say, hugging it tenderly. Was I really thinking I could leave this place that has become my home? This place I love?
“I was here an hour early to secure this table, I’ll have you know. I’ve been drinking coffee since I arrived.”
Angelica has scored some laminated menus from the hostess podium. She passes them out with flair.
“Will you take our order too?”
“Anything to have us all here for breakfast one more time.” She gives Caitlin a double take and then quickly looks down at the breakfast specials clipped to the inside of the menu.
“Girls! Sorry I’m late.” Sadie is barely through the door and wiggling her way out of her coat so she can hug each of us. She plants a big kiss on Harry’s cheek. For the first time the little prodigy is unsure what to say.
Our nearly married friend soaks in the presence of her best friends with teary eyes. “You don’t know how thankful I am that this is happening right now. I thought I was so together, so organized, and I was so wrong. Right, Harry? I’m a bit of a mess.”
“It’s a big day you are planning. A little stress is to be expected.”
“Listen to the man. I mean…boy! The man-boy. That suit is confusing me,” Caitlin says, shaking her head, and I see that the bizarre attachment to her head is actually her hair. It has grown out, and she has formed a strange side ponytail with the several inches of length.
Sadie is the first to crack. Apparently prewedding nerves also becomes a bit of a truth serum. “Caitlin, what is with the hair today?”
Caitlin picks up on the tone of judgment in Sadie’s voice and speaks a bit defensively. “Since I decided to grow my hair out, I’ve awakened to many different kinks and curls and waves. I had forgotten what a pain hair can be. So, I’ve decided to write a beauty book about how to take the top twenty bed-head problems and turn them into sassy styles. So a person can look in the mirror, decide which bed-head issue they have, and then maximize it while spending less time fussing. Don’t you think women will be thrilled to turn flaws into fashion?”
Angelica is tired of this already. “Won’t the squirrels be jealous?”
“Squirrels?” Caitlin says, laughing.
I lean over the table. “Our sweet Angelica is implying that your ponytail looks a bit more like the tail of a friendly woodland creature.”
“Nuh-uh!” Caitlin is shocked at this comparison.
“Oh, yes,” says Angelica, unwavering in her opinion. “When I walked in and saw your head at our table, I wanted to call pest control and report the restaurant.”
“Well, you are in fine form. What happened to your new leaf—flipping it over and being nicer, kinder, gentler?” our little friend retaliates.
“You copped that from a laxative commercial. I’m insulted. But if you must know—I flipped it, I lived it, and now I am getting back to a balanced, midflip existence. Don’t tell me you haven’t missed me.” Angelica’s lips form a smile.
“I haven’t missed the insults.”
“Are you liking Tucson, Harry?” I inquire, reminding everyone that we have a guest today who might not be used to acerbic conversation in the morning.
“Well, I’ve visited many times before to see Dad.”
“Oh, of course. I wasn’t thinking.”
“But, actually, I’m liking Tucson much more than I did before,” he says, grinning and stealing a gander at Angelica, who is fluffing her hair and pursing her glossed lips at a mirror. She is oblivious of her newest fan.
“What?” she asks, putting the compact back into her purse. “You all want me back out there,” she circles the air in front of her with a flat hand, “searching for true love. And Harry has convinced me to get unstuck. So if I return to primping before a meal, you all have nothing to say.” Her manicured nails form a goose egg zero.
“Harry convinced you, or a certain other attractive gentleman inspired this change of attitude?” Sadie pries.
Angelica wants to dodge the question, but her initial gasp gives her away. “Maybe Peyton’s willingness to wait for me has made a good impression. However, I’m still staying away from him until after the wedding. Or at least until the wedding.”
Our waitress takes
our orders. Angelica has quit eating for three, but Sadie is fervently breaking her rules of math. She has ordered two servings of the chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream—a concoction that has a scary carb count.
The rest of us smile at one another as Sadie asks for chocolate syrup to be provided on the side.
“I hope Jim is as patient,” Caitlin says, sighing.
“By the way, Mari, Beau had planned to surprise you at the airport this morning, but he got held up in a meeting.” Angelica tries to explain my boyfriend’s behavior.
I pretend to be engrossed in the wedge of lemon in my water glass.
“Something about the upcoming fund-raiser?” she clarifies.
“Yes. It is that time of year again. Can you believe it has almost been a year since your proposal at the fashion show, Sadie?” I try to keep the conversation flowing in the direction opposite of my relationship with Beau. If there was a fund-raiser meeting, I would have known about it. Inside the ache returns. I imagine him sitting at his desk and looking at his pewter clock, knowing I am in the city and yet staying seated. Waiting until he thinks we can see one another. And why is the time of our reunion for him to determine? I ask myself, still plunging the lemon into my glass with a red-striped straw. Why did he get to say we shouldn’t communicate until I returned?
“Mari?”
I am being summoned from the maze of downwardly spiraling thinking. There is physical pain involved in surfacing, even to be with the people who love me most.
“Yes? Sorry. Lost in thought.”
“Carson said that Beau surprised you by showing up a week ago in DC.” Sadie opens up the vein of my relationship.
“That is so romantic.” Caitlin provides her usual assessment of Beau. Even after she and I had that heart-to-heart about my misgivings, she sees what she wants to see. I’ve probably helped create that denial, me and my sales pitch.
I’d like to order that kind of faith from the menu today. Instead, I settle for the American breakfast—two eggs scrambled with toast and hash browns. The plate is placed in front of me. It is appropriate that I have ordered eggs. Chicken, that is what I am. Too chicken to go to Beau directly. Too chicken to call him in advance of my arrival. And too chicken to tell my best friends about the ache in my gut.
“Did your family just love him?” Angelica asks a safe question.
“Yes. My mom was smitten right away. And he was quite taken with her recent post on the city council. They are both type A personalities.”
“See, you cannot get away from us,” Angelica says, laughing. “You are even destined to marry a type A.”
The others look at her sternly, as if she has crossed a conversational barrier.
“What?” I ask innocently.
Sadie shakes her head and her newly relaxed waves tumble about her high cheekbones. “Your first day back, and Angelica is teasing you. We should give each other space.”
Space? Funny that Sadie is using the same word Beau did in his note.
“Why would I need space?” I ask with a rise in my voice.
“Not just you. Me, Angelica, Caitlin—we all need space for the decisions and transitions we are making.”
I’m not buying it.
“What do you know about Beau’s visit to Washington? Does everybody in my life know that it was a disaster? That he left without us even talking or saying goodbye in person. Sweet, wonderful, patient Beau couldn’t handle the confrontation after an argument that he started. Instead he left so that we could have space. Lots of space. Miles and miles of it. Which shouldn’t bug me because that is the way our relationship has been for more than eight months. I have so much space, Sadie, that I’m conferring with NASA about a satellite.”
Everyone is sitting with their backs board-straight in their chairs. Even the waitress is standing at attention with the coffeepot.
Sadie breaks the silence. “Mari, we didn’t know any of that. In fact, we thought good things were going to happen on that trip. We were all praying that you would have a strong sense of your future relationship with Beau.”
“Was this trip announced on the radio, at the Rotary club meeting? And why that prayer specifically?” Specifically. That harsh last word I spoke to Beau at the zoo.
Angelica is about to burst, Caitlin still looks confused, and Sadie is repeatedly pushing her hair behind her ears in a nervous motion. Harry has reverted back to the demeanor of a real child and is licking whipped cream from each of his fingers, completely lost in the world of sugar sprinkles.
“I repeat. What do you all know about Beau’s visit to Washington?”
Sadie looks around us covertly. Once she seems convinced nobody is listening to our conversation, she reaches for my hand and holds it tightly. Her gaze is open and fixed on my face. I cannot look away.
“Mari—Beau was there to ask your parents for their permission to marry you.”
I try to pull my hand back. But unlike Beau, my friend Sadie won’t let go.
Beau Motion
I spend the day doing everything I can to avoid thinking about Beau. Caitlin and I took a load of her stuff to Goodwill, and then we cleared out her spare room for my stay. I met with Yvette and Zane, who are still happily subleasing my apartment and my cat. I brought Elmo back to Caitlin’s so I would have his comfort. And I checked on my bank account to verify that I am indeed poorer than poor.
Golden Horizons has kept me on a small retainer for the work I have done from a distance. It has kept the basic must-pay bills, like my cell phone, insurance, and my student loan, from becoming fodder for collectors. I don’t mind seeing my low balance because it reminds me how little I need. I’ve only thought about money a couple of times while in Washington. I’ve barely needed any spending money because I’ve been focused on the kids, on chores, and on my parents. It is amazing how frugal a life can be when it is not self-focused.
When I check my watch for the millionth time and see that the workday has ended, my heart plummets. Not one call from Beau. And tomorrow I have to go to the office to meet with the fund-raising committee. How can I face him if he won’t face up to our situation?
Caitlin is packing boxes of her fashion creations at the store, so Elmo and I sit on beanbag chairs and continue waiting. We are really good at it. I scratch Elmo’s belly for five minute intervals and then sigh heavily for thirty seconds. Elmo then looks up at me curiously and squirms to position another part of his belly for the next round of scratching. Elmo and I have been apart for months, yet we can return to the same level of relationship almost immediately. Okay, two cans of cat food and one catnip toy later—just like old times. I wish human relationships were this easy.
The call I have been waiting for comes at six thirty. My legs are numb from sitting on the beanbag, so I crawl like a soldier in combat over to my purse, in which I left my cell phone so that I would not appear desperate. The phone is just switching to my message when I intercept.
“Hello?”
“Mari? I was just leaving you a message.” Beau states what I know and leaves out what I don’t know. Like where do we stand? What is he thinking? Is he really sorry?
“Should I listen to it?”
“No, of course not. I’m glad I caught you.”
“Me too.”
“I’d like to meet at the park.”
“Meet?”
“Do you need a ride?”
I would like a ride from my boyfriend. “My car is here at Caitlin’s house. I can meet you.”
“I’ll pick up something for us to eat.”
“Great. See you there. Beau…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you called.”
“Me too.”
I reach the park first. A group of kids are finishing up a soccer game, so I watch both teams shake hands in a gesture of good sportsmanship. They appear to be grade-schoolers, with nylon shorts dragging near the tops of their striped socks and haircuts that resemble the Beatles—early years.
I
stare at the faces and soon see Wallace, Camden, Jon, Elsa, and the others. I’ve lived in a city completely unaware of the children who reside here. My life has been about work, my friends, and the quest for an identity beyond that of “single.” I cannot imagine that I coexisted with all these little people without noticing them.
My phone rings. I anxiously check the car clock before answering. Beau is running late and it bothers me. “Where are you?” I ask as my greeting.
“Where are you, Mari? The talent show starts in ten minutes,” Yvette volleys back. “Zane mentioned it today when you were over.”
“He did?” My mind recalls a vague reference. “I’m so sorry. Beau is on his way over. I don’t know if we can make it. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Don’t worry. I wanted to catch you if you still wanted to come, but don’t feel pressure. Besides, we already have your money for the tickets. That’s all that matters,” she says, laughing.
Beau’s headlights come into view at the south entrance of the parking lot and his car rolls up to the left of mine.
“Thanks for understanding, Yvette. I’ll let you know how this goes.”
Beau waves the bags of Chinese food happily. It is as if nothing had happened between us.
I roll down my window and he rolls down his passenger window.
“Were you calling the cops? Sorry I was late. They left out the fried rice in the order.”
“It was Yvette. I completely forgot about that talent show she is coordinating. It is tonight, and I had bought tickets for us. But that was well before—before recent developments.” I string this out slowly hoping he will catch on to our situation.
“Let’s go!”
“But the Chinese food will get cold.” And so will our relationship.
“It’s better cold. We need a date night.”
