“Will you like teaching?” She felt like arguing with him.
“I don’t know. But I will try it.”
“Fair enough.” Casey hesitated for a moment before saying, “I wanted to ask you about my things.”
“I was evicted. Your things are gone.” He had been practicing this statement in his mind for some time, not knowing exactly when he’d have to recite it. “The landlord took them and probably sold them. I’m sorry. I will pay you back.” This was one of the steps from GA—making amends or something like that.
“Everything?” Casey put her hand to her mouth.
“Everything.”
“Oh. My.”
There were no more cigarettes left in her pack. Her purse was inside the house.
“Wow,” she said.
“If you make a list of what you had and tell me how much it was—”
“No.” She closed her eyes. “I guess we’re even.”
“No. We’re not, Casey.”
She opened her eyes and blinked, hurt by what he’d said. “I am sorry about what I did. I do regret that.”
“And I’m sorry that I didn’t—”
Casey shook her head. She didn’t want any apologies.
“Hey, I have missed you.”
Casey nodded, but she couldn’t face him. She clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I’m going to take the offer.”
“Good.”
“I don’t think I’m going back to business school.” The words just came out. She could never keep anything from him, though she hadn’t known this last thing herself. Unu had seen her act a fool, yet in all the time he’d known her, he hadn’t judged. Then she’d hurt him. It had meant a lot to have his respect. His company. His friendship. “I don’t think I can, Unu.”
“Even better.” Unu reached over, his large hand enveloping hers.
She pulled her hand away gently. There was a plastic tub of street chalk on Irene’s child-size picnic table. With yellow and green chalk, Casey drew a row of tulips on the slate-paved ground. The heads of the tall flowers resembled giant soft-boiled eggs with their shell tops cut off, their edges crimped simply.
“Grown-up life is harder than I thought,” he said.
“You’re not kidding.” They both chuckled.
“Why don’t you make hats?” he said.
She almost laughed. “There’s no money in that.”
“Since when did you want money?”
She stopped herself from calling him “private-school boy.”
“Are you really not going to finish business school?” he asked.
It sounded so much worse to hear the word finish, as if she were leaving something undone. She put down the chalk and dusted off her hands, then sat down again.
“I just can’t see it.” She tried to imagine herself as a milliner; that was not impossible. “And the loans—”
“It would be stupid to get into more debt if you don’t need the degree.”
“My life has become stupid.”
Unu moved closer to her and kissed her.
He pulled away first.
“Casey, you lack nothing.”
“I am living in someone else’s guest room, and I can put all of my possessions in one suitcase. And so can you.”
Unu didn’t flinch. “It’s temporary. I’m not ashamed of that. I’ve helped others.”
“Yes.” She bit her lip. “You helped me.”
“Casey, I wouldn’t want you to become one of those hard people.” He placed his hands beneath her wrists and held them gently. “They’re so bare without them.”
Casey studied the underside of her pale wrists. Loose braids of thin blue veins ran up her arms.
From the kitchen, Irene tapped on the glass door, despite her mother having forbidden her to disturb Uncle Unu and Aunt Casey outside. They turned to see her and waved. Irene tapped some more, smiling.
Unu picked up a piece of purple chalk. Hunching over, he drew long stalks of grass framing her flowers.
She fell softly on her knees and began to color in the petals, and Unu joined her on the ground and began to draw a tree.
Acknowledgments
I want to thank my superb agent Bill Clegg, who is both wise and kind. I feel fortunate to have his keen insights and steady counsel. I am grateful to Suzanne Gluck for her faith and passion, and to Matt Hudson, Matt Lewis, Alicia Gordon, Cathryn Summerhayes, Caroline Michel, Shana Kelly, Tracy Fisher, and Raffaella De Angelis for their tireless efforts on my behalf. I owe an enormous debt to my incomparable editor Amy Einhorn, whose intelligence and care shine throughout this book. I am grateful to Jamie Raab and to the marvelous Emily Griffin, who patiently answers all of my many questions. I would like to acknowledge the inspired work of Tanisha Christie and Anne Twomey. Much thanks to Chris Barba, Emi Battaglia, Judy DeBerry, Kim Dower, Linda Duggins, Randy Hickernell, Mindy Im, John Leary, Kelly Leonard, Jill Lichtenstadter, Tom McIntyre, Tareth Mitch, Martha Otis, Bruce Paonessa, Miriam Parker, Les Pockell, Jennifer Romanello, Judy Rosenblatt, Roger Saginario, Renee Supriano, William Tierney, Karen Torres, and Sona Vogel.