Dan looks at me, his eyes focusing after being blank and dead for a few solid minutes. His expression is a mix of confusion and fear. Or maybe it’s suspicion. Whatever he’s thinking or feeling, it’s definitely about me. Jill, too, only her feelings are clear. Anger. Disgust. She glowers at me as I sit with my hand clapped over my mouth.
The manager ushers them away. Dan now possesses a wobbly wide-legged gait, like he’s just had a colonoscopy. Jill follows at his heels, her hands placed on his back as if she’s pushing him or worried he’ll fall. They turn a corner and disappear.
I exhale and take a sip of ginger ale, and when I set it down, I realize Pascal is still here, sitting right next to me.
“Why’d you laugh?” he asks.
“Nervous reaction,” I say, proud of myself for coming up with a quick plausible lie.
“Huh,” he says.
A minute goes by, and in it I come to the conclusion that there’s nothing else to do but leave.
“All right,” I say, standing, “I’m going to go.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Nice meeting you,” I say. “Good luck with the logs.”
He seems offended by my words, which admittedly came out more venomous than intended. I do genuinely wish him luck with the logs. Without a personality, they’re probably all he has.
I hurry out of the restaurant to my car. I take off my shoes the second I sit down and toss them in the backseat.
I don’t know why exactly, but I feel good. I drive home singing a song I make up as I go.
By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m so full of energy it’s coming out of my ears. I leave my shoes in the car and run into the backyard, saying a quick hello to Mr. Frog.
The grass is dead and scratchy underneath my feet, but I don’t care. I like the feel of it. I dance on top of it, singing my song from the car.
And when you hate someone you meet,
they will get a tasty treat,
bones on their tongue and in their cheeks,
bones to make them hush and make them bleed.
Bones are the escape you need;
you can sing and dance alone,
all thanks to the bones.
Above me, the moon is full and shines silvery white.
So bright, so bright, so bright.
But the brightness isn’t just above me. It’s in front of me. Glowing toward me.
There’s a light on.
Downstairs.
The light is coming from a downstairs window.
I notice it now. The other car. It’s parked in the street in front of the house.
Lynn.
She’s home.
And she’s standing in the window, staring at me. She’s been watching me. I don’t know for how long. Long enough.
I should be mortified. Right now I should be experiencing the excruciating sting of embarrassment. I’ve felt it for less.
And yet.
I face the window. I step forward so I can be fully illuminated, so my smile is not masked in shadow. I wave to the face behind the glass. To Lynn.
With a quick swish of the curtains, she’s gone, and the light goes off.
“Oops!” I say to myself. And to the moon, “Oh, well.”
I lay myself down in the grass, waiting to feel some belated humiliation.
It never arrives.
I revel in its absence. It’s liberating.
I laugh and laugh.
RALPH
The next morning, I head to Sophie’s first thing. I decide to stop in the Good Mug for coffee. I wait for Oskar to comment on the two coffees, on the fact that one of them is for Sophie, but he doesn’t. He does ask me if I’m feeling all right.
“I feel great,” I say. “Why?”
He shakes his head.
It’s nippy, and there’s a shimmering layer of frost on the ground, but it’s not bothering me at all. I like the way it makes me feel, how it reminds me of my body. You’re here, the cold says. It’s now.
I trot up to Sophie’s door and set the coffees down so I can knock twice. The door opens itself and I step inside. Sophie is at the top of the stairs wearing a long purple velvet robe with black fur trim.
“Pet,” she says, yawning, “good morning.”
“Am I too early?” I ask. “I have coffee.”
“I’m tired is all,” she says, descending the steps. “Thank you for the coffee. How was your date?”
I hand her the cup and she removes the lid to sip. She looks at me, her eyes bright and eager.
“You don’t know?” I ask her.
“Know what, darling?”