God, she could write now so easily. She’d have a thousand things to say. This new urgency gnaws at her, as though the words are crackling inside and need to come out; as if she’s one of those writers who needs to scribble ideas on a napkin, something she always found ostentatious. She hears phrases （unashamed sky）。 She could write all day and skip lunch. She could write about her rules.
Next rule: only positive thoughts. The dark ones breed and gallop through her mind. She has to steer clear. She has thought too many bad ones already: her holding his limp fingers as he takes his last breath in a hospital, in a flannel shirt at his gravestone. Her alone in their bed the way she was when he spent ten and a half days at the hospital for the first round of treatment. Her holding her sobbing daughter. Her having to answer her daughter’s questions. No, no, no. Happy happy thoughts.
“So where did you say you’re going next week?” she asks the Lionels.
Kay glances at Alex. “To, um, it’s north of Hartford. Just two nights.”
Greg sips his ginger ale and smiles as the waitress sets his soup in front of him. “And they made it extra hot?” Freddie asks.
The waitress nods.
Freddie sees Greg roll his eyes. I didn’t make these rules, she wants to say to him.
When the waitress brings drink refills, Freddie doesn’t want Greg to touch his. One glass is enough. She takes a bottle of water out of her purse and tries to nudge it toward him. He pushes it away and takes the new drink from the waitress’s hand.
“Perfect,” he says, and sips. Freddie glares for a second but then smiles at Kay.
“That sounds like a fun trip.”
Kay nods. “Oh, we’ll see. It’s just a little inn.”
“We’re going to catch up with friends,” Alex says.
Kay starts to say something. She colors a red holly berry, checks on Addie, who is immersed in her coloring, and says quietly, “To be honest, they’re not exactly friends.”
Freddie and Greg look up. Addie tries to trace her green crayon through a maze shaped like Santa’s hat.
Alex looks nervously at his wife. “You should tell them,” Kay says. “It’s okay.” Her expression is calm, her face is relaxed.
“Tell us what?” Greg asks.
Freddie is imagining Alex’s retirement. Maybe a house they’re buying. She racks her brain, trying to figure out what news they’d have. An illness? Something bad? She thinks for a moment she doesn’t want their news. She doesn’t want another ounce of change. She wants to hold her hand up in a halt signal. She has enough news to weigh her down forever.
Alex looks at Kay, his face worried. His gold watch catches one of the restaurant’s recessed lights. Is he trying to read her expression? But Kay nods at him, and he looks relieved. “I have a daughter,” he says.
“Oh my,” Freddie says. She and Greg exchange a silent glance. They push their knees together. What do we say? she mentally asks him. She wonders if her eyes are ten times their normal size. What the hell is going on? Where could a daughter come from? The Lionels have been together since they were in college.
“You do?” Greg holds a pack of crackers in his fingers.
Kay gives them a controlled smile. “Isn’t that a shock? She’s in her twenties.”
Greg puts his crackers down. He looks crestfallen. Freddie worries for him. He shouldn’t be under any type of stress. Damn them and their announcement. Freddie guesses he thinks Alex would have shared something like this years ago—during a golf game, during a lunch together, and maybe he feels betrayed or disappointed. But beyond this, she thinks how nice it is to have a true distraction, a real conversation about something besides cancer and treatment and germs. She looks at the Lionels. They don’t seem devastated or bothered. It feels okay, it feels good to be lifted away into whatever this is. “What a surprise,” Freddie finally says.
“Ta-da,” Kay says. She keeps her voice low because Addie hasn’t looked up yet. Fortunately, the news seems to go over her head as she slowly plays connect the dots on the next activity.
“Yes.” Alex unwraps his napkin and stares at the silverware. “We’ve, um, been working some things out.” He looks over at Kay and they lock eyes for a moment.
Kay nods as the waitress places her salad in front of her. She lets her crack some black pepper over it and then picks up her fork. She frowns and then leans in. “It feels good to just say what you don’t want to say sometimes.” She shrugs. “Secrets do you no good, do they?”