CHAPTER FIVE
It took two days to get back to normal. Or at least, it took two days to not be a sick house anymore—normal was a whole other story. Tabitha was so glad that the first day back at school for both kids coincided with another job interview. Fern could have gone back the day before, but it just seemed like too much work, so Tabitha let her stay home and watch television. As everyone felt better and hungrier, Tabitha defrosted portions of the food from the sports bar. Overall, it was pretty relaxing.
Tabitha took her time getting dressed. She settled on a suit that cost hundreds of dollars, shoes that cost almost that, and a designer silk blouse and scarf, which reminded her to check the website of the consignment store on Chestnut Street later. She had taken in a bunch of clothes to sell about a month ago, but so far nobody seemed to want any of her things. Maybe she should consign more.
She chose a necklace studded with colorful semiprecious stones and put on a full mouth of lipstick. It was a different kind of interview today. Instead of going to an office, she was meeting her interviewer for breakfast at the fancy restaurant on the second floor of the Rittenhouse Hotel, since that was where he was staying. She was trying for a management position at a pest control company that was branching out into new cities, so she was meeting with the son of the company’s founder. It must be a lucrative business for him to stay at such a nice hotel, one of the nicest in the city. Or maybe he has family money. She shook her head. It really didn’t matter either way. Despite the elegance of the setting for the meeting, she knew she was being considered for a job that would basically be answering phones and coordinating appointments, but she didn’t mind. It was a manager position, and they were offering a whopping eighteen dollars per hour, which seemed like quite a bit to her now. The office, which was still being built, would be on the fifteen-hundred block of South Street. She had walked by it last week. It wasn’t impossible that someone she knew would come in there, but she was relying on the likelihood that most people she knew already had their pest control people. This company—unfortunately named “Ratface”—hopefully would appeal to the younger crowd of first-time homeowners.
“Ready?” Fern called into her room. Tabitha glanced at her watch. There was no way she was going to get them to school and be back in time for the meeting. What was she thinking?
“Coming,” she called, taking one last look at herself. Nobody, in a million years, would ever think she was broke. She walked toward the door, then came back, pulled off the necklace and scarf. She realized she was dressing more for the restaurant and less for the interview. She didn’t want to appear like she didn’t need a job, or worse, that she was above it. She quickly pulled off her shoes and chose much less expensive ones. She wished she could start over, but there was no time for that.
Out in the living room she found Levi slumped over on the couch.
“You okay, Monkey man?” she asked gently. He jumped.
“Yeah, fine,” he said, sitting up, then standing quickly.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Okay, good, because I need you to do something for me,” she said. Levi turned to her and raised his eyebrows. He probably thought she was going to ask him to run something down to the garbage chute. “Can you walk Fern to school today? Just the two of you? I have an interview this morning, and I’m afraid I won’t make it in time if I walk you guys all the way to school.”
“An interview?” he asked. “For what?”
“I told you, I’m thinking about going back to work,” she said slowly, not at all sure that she had mentioned it. “This is just preliminary.”
When Levi didn’t say anything, she said, “So, do you think you can do that? Get the two of you to school safely?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, perking up. Tabitha thought she even saw a tiny smile start at the corners of his mouth. She shut her eyes for the briefest second, hoping she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. What if something happened on the way there? What if Levi didn’t help guide Fern across the street? No, she told herself, he would. She stopped short of asking him to text her when they got there. She knew that would just add to her anxiety, and probably a lot of phone checking during the interview. She watched as Levi helped Fern gather her backpack.
“Bye, Mommy,” she said. Fern liked this, too, Tabitha could tell.
“Bye, sweet girl,” she said, trying to act like this was perfectly normal. “Bye, Monkey.”
When they left, she stood at the window and watched. It took a long time for them to get all the way downstairs and out. Once they were on the sidewalk, she could see there was some discussion about which way to go, and they ended up going slightly out of their way so they could walk through the Square, which she knew Levi was doing for Fern. Tabitha smiled a little as she watched, until she couldn’t see them anymore. Now she had a whole twenty minutes to kill. She didn’t know what to do with it. She had the time to change her outfit, but she didn’t really feel like it anymore. She felt tired. She forced herself to move toward her bedroom, just to consider other clothing options, and as she did her phone rang. She glanced at the number but didn’t recognize it.
“Hello?”
“Hello, I’d like to place an order, but not for right now, it’s a lunch order.”
Tabitha hesitated.
“Is that okay? Are you still doing lunch? I should have asked that first.”
“Um,” Tabitha said, not sure how much she wanted to say.
“Is this Tabitha’s Pantry?” the male voice asked, sounding a little embarrassed. “Your app is glitchy today—it won’t let me place an order, so I thought I would call. This is the number I had saved in my phone.”
“Yes, it’s Tabitha’s Pantry,” Tabitha said. Her former business had failed on so many levels. She would so much rather put her energy into it than any of these crazy jobs she was going for, but, of course, she couldn’t, for too many reasons. “We aren’t open.”
“Oh, okay. Are you open tomorrow? We were talking about your amazing egg salad, and I wanted to order ten sandwiches. We’re having lunch meetings all week. I know you did those boxed meals for dinner, do you do them for lunch, too?”
Tabitha shook her head and started to talk three different times before settling on her answer.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “We’re closed for the foreseeable future.” And she hung up. She looked at her phone like it was going to ring again, like the man on the other end wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He was going to demand ten egg-salad boxed lunches. And she could do it. She would love to do it. She would gently place the eggs in the pot and let the cool water pour over them. She would boil them slowly. Once they were ready, peeled, and grated, she would mix them—her favorite part—with simple Hellmann’s mayonnaise, salt, pepper, and dill. Everyone always asked what was in that egg salad? Customers were always guessing—“Was it pickle juice?” “Was it nutmeg?” It had to be something magical, something nobody else would think of, but no, sometimes simple was the best thing; sometimes simple was perfection. Once the salad was made, she would build the sandwiches on the grainy bread from Metropolitan Bakery, just south of the Square. She had tried to make her own bread, and it had turned out fine, but there was nothing better than that bread from the bakery. After that, she would put together the boxes. Maybe she would make homemade chips, using her mandoline and small deep fryer, or a pasta salad with peppers and cherry tomatoes, using her favorite cider vinegar (of which there used to be plenty) from a tiny island in Canada, and then add a miniature brownie and chocolate chip cookie to each box as the finishing touch. Or she might make an Asian slaw and peanut butter cookies. At that last thought she leaned against the back of the couch and tried not to think about the worst day, the awful phone call. But was that the worst day? Or was the other terrible day, the one with her mother, actually the worst day? It was hard to know. Without all the information, it was impossible to know. And she didn’t have all the information. Maybe she never would. Maybe it was better that way.
She glanced at her watch. She hoped against hope that Levi and Fern made it to school without incident. She thought about texting Levi, but didn’t. Better to not text than to text and get no answer. She had to get him to agree to the Find My Friends app or look for another one that didn’t require agreement on the part of the person you were trying to find. She sighed and walked out, not changing, not grabbing a sweater, not feeling ready at all.
As soon as she entered the hotel just across the Square, she was glad she hadn’t dressed down too much. She walked by the doorman and smiled, feeling like she belonged, and she knew she looked the part. She decided to walk up the one flight instead of taking the elevator. It would give her more time. At the hostess stand she struggled to remember the man’s name. Hiffen, that was it.
“I’m meeting Andrew Hiffen,” she said.
“Right this way.”
The restaurant was nearly empty. She spotted a young man sitting at one of the prime tables near the window, but she dismissed him. Far too young. Sure enough, though, it was her destination.
“What’s the scariest thing you have ever seen, or that you could imagine seeing?” he asked, before she had a chance to sit down, before she even had a chance to introduce herself. It was that awkward moment when the hostess was pulling out the chair, and she didn’t want to miss the seat. She settled into it and yanked it forward, a little too hard, nodding to the hostess.
“The scariest thing?” she repeated back to him. There were so many things in the running, honestly. But she knew what he wanted. She could play this game.
“The face of a rat,” she said.
“Exactly.”
How old could he possibly be? Twenty-five? On the one hand she hated that such a young person could have so much control over her fate, and on the other she thought he might be easy enough to please. She could figure out the answers that he hoped to get to his questions.
“I’m thinking of the French toast,” he said, surprising her. She hadn’t given the menu any thought; she was still gearing up to reach across the table and say, Hi! I’m Tabitha Brewer. But that moment had passed, so she let him lead the conversation.
“Good choice,” she said warmly, looking at her menu. Maybe if she just supported everything he said, he’d give her the job.
He ordered, and she decided to get the same thing. She loved French toast. Her mouth watered just thinking about it. If only she could take some home for the kids. But she knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. And she was sort of glad—it meant she could eat it all and not feel bad.
“I got in last night around nine,” he said, without any prompting.
“Was that the time you expected to get in?”
“More or less,” he said.
She waited, but he didn’t say anything else, and he certainly didn’t ask anything about her career, her hopes and dreams, what she thought she might be able to contribute to the company. She was about to begin offering that information, unsolicited, when the food arrived. Tabitha willed herself to not worry about a single thing while she ate, and she pretty much succeeded. Andrew Hiffen ate only one piece of French toast, then inched his plate toward the middle of the table.
“So good,” he said, surprising her again. For a second she had worried he didn’t like it.
“Yes, it really is so good,” she said.
“Let me just make a quick call,” he said, pushing back from the table and getting up.
“Sure.”
While he was gone, she slipped the one unopened miniature bottle of maple syrup and one tiny jar of blueberry jam into her purse. She thought for a brief second about eating his French toast, too, what a shame to let it go to waste, but then he was back. She wouldn’t have done it anyway.
“So I talked to my father, and he said we still have a few other candidates to meet before we make the final decision,” he said, not quite looking her in the eyes. Shoot. She thought this was going to be easy. “We hope to have everything in place in the next few weeks or so—a month at the latest.”
“That sounds good,” she said, trying to remain upbeat. “I would really like this job. I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I am very organized. I like talking to people on the phone. I’m good at creating and implementing schedules, even when things get busy, or I should say, especially when things get busy.”
“I’ll tell my father,” he said. “I really hope it works out. You seem nice.”
Nice was okay, she decided. You wanted nice when people called to hire you for pest control, right? Capable would have been better, probably, but she’d take nice.
The check arrived and he grabbed it. If nothing more, she got a good meal and a few things to take home.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
She waited, but he didn’t get up. He fidgeted a little.
“Should we go?” she asked.
“This is a little awkward, I guess,” he said. “I’m meeting someone else after you, another candidate. That’s why I ate only one piece of the French toast. I have to do this all over again. I told my father we shouldn’t do it this way.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Tabitha said as she stood. She wanted him to continue to think she was nice. But she wondered once again if she’d ever get a job. “Well, thanks again.”
As she walked toward the exit, she saw a young man coming toward them being led by the same hostess who had brought her to the table. As she was almost out of earshot, she heard Andrew ask the man, “What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen?”
She shook her head and waited for the elevator with the uneasy feeling that he might not even know who she was after all of that, since she never said her name. Why hadn’t she just said it to make sure? If he was going to sit there and meet with person after person, he’d never keep them all straight. She didn’t feel like walking through the hotel this time. She pushed the button for the lobby, but when she got in it moved up instead of down. She hated elevators. The minute you put yourself in one, you were completely at its mercy. It could take you up instead of down; it could decide to trap you. She shook her head and breathed deeply as she felt panic beginning in her stomach. She closed her eyes and willed the elevator to arrive somewhere. Finally, it settled on the sixth floor, and even though Tabitha had no business on the sixth floor, she got out. She’d take the stairs. But as she walked down the long, elegant hall, she had an idea. Rooms should be getting cleaned. Housekeeping carts should be in the halls. There wasn’t one on this floor, but she started looking, first down to five, then she decided to go up. Maybe they started high and descended. She walked up to the tenth floor. Yup. There was an unattended cart right there.
Once again, she was glad she had left most of her nice clothes on. If someone asked, she’d just say she ran out of shampoo. They’d assume she was a guest. But nobody came, and she took and took and took—bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body lotion. She thought about the towels but decided that was silly. She had those, even if they got ratty, they’d still be usable for a long time. She could fit just one roll of toilet paper into her bag on top of all the small bottles and still be able to shut it. She wished she had a bigger bag.
She went back down the steps and breezed outside, her arm over her bulging bag. At home, she distributed the tiny bottles throughout the apartment bathrooms, telling herself they could pretend they were at a hotel. She stored the rest in the linen closet. She was just about to change and go back to scanning the Internet for job openings when her doorbell rang. She froze. It was rare that her doorbell just rang, since usually the doorman called up to let her know who was here. It must be someone she knew well, but who? It must be a neighbor. That was the only thing that made sense. Mr. Wilson probably wanted to borrow an egg or something—and she didn’t even have one. She had absolutely nothing extra. She formulated excuses in her head—I was just about to go food shopping this morning, or We stopped eating eggs because we are all doing this strange vegan cleanse—as she walked to the door and pulled it open. Rachel stood there wearing her yoga clothes, her royal-blue mat rolled up in a bag over her shoulder.
“Where were you?” she demanded, walking in before Tabitha had a chance to invite her.
“Oh shoot, I completely forgot. You know the kids were sick all week. This was their first day back. I just wasn’t thinking about yoga.”
“Really? Because when we talked two days ago you promised you would meet me there.”
Rachel was right. She had promised. Why hadn’t she remembered she had an interview and made up an excuse then? She could see Rachel eyeing her suspiciously. Clearly she was dressed for something.
“Have you already been out?” Rachel asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Tabitha said. Obviously she couldn’t tell her about the job interview. “I met my aunt for breakfast. She wants to start talking about preplanning her funeral.” It was official, Tabitha was still the worst liar.
“Oh, that’s weird,” Rachel said, but Tabitha saw her soften a little. Preplanning a funeral was a touchy subject, since Tabitha’s mother hadn’t wanted to, then at the very last minute, just weeks before she was completely incapacitated, she did it all without Tabitha’s help. She even planned and paid for a luncheon, choosing the menu items in advance. There was some strange tortilla soup and an even stranger butternut squash salad. Tabitha still thought that either the place got it wrong or her mother was trying to give her a message—but what could it have been?
“It is weird, but I guess it’s good to get it out of the way, you know . . .”
“Yeah, I know,” Rachel said soothingly. “So, what are you doing for the rest of the day? Do you want to have lunch?”
“Oh. Maybe,” Tabitha said. The not having any money to pay for anything was getting tricky. “Can I call you in a little while? I just had a huge breakfast.”
“Um, okay,” Rachel said. “How about yoga tomorrow?”
“Yes, yoga tomorrow should work.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, as long as the kids are fine, I promise.”
Rachel moved toward the door, then came back and surprised Tabitha by sitting on the bench in the foyer.
“Tab, what is going on with you?”
It would be so easy to tell her everything. But then what would happen if Stuart came back? And what about the threat? She closed her eyes for a second and saw the bottom of the note: “I’ll tell them what you did.” She swayed to the left, feeling dizzy, and when she opened her eyes, Rachel was reaching out for her elbow. Tabitha smiled.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Really, I just haven’t had enough water today.”
“See, it’s exactly that sort of thing that makes me wonder about you, Tabitha,” Rachel said.
Tabitha shook her head and brushed her hand through the air, as if to say it was nothing. Stuart’s words still ran through her head, and she had to work hard to look normal. Would he follow through with it? She just couldn’t take the chance. She didn’t want anyone to know what she did, or what Stuart thought she did. Her biggest concern at this point was that the kids would hear about one or both of the things—that would be the worst possible outcome. No, she reminded herself, not the worst—that may have already happened—but the worst that could happen from this point forward in a long line of possibly terrible things. She’d wait it out. There was no other choice.
“I’m totally fine, I promise. It’s just that the kids are each having a hard time—they miss Stuart, and it’s always more chaotic when he’s away. Things will settle down. I promise.”
“Okay, well, I worry about you.”
“Thank you. I know you do. But you don’t have to.”
Rachel stood up and pushed the yoga mat back over her shoulder. She went to the light switch near the door and pushed it up and down. Nothing happened.
“It’s so dark in here,” she said. “You should really replace the light bulbs.”
“I’m working on it.”
On Saturday morning everyone had someplace to go—Fern to Sarina’s and Levi to his friend Butch’s to play Call of Duty on Butch’s PS4—so Tabitha happily made it to the yoga class without any problems, hoping she and Rachel might be able to spend the day together. After, though, Rachel had to get ready to go to work, and Tabitha wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She went home and showered. She wasn’t there thirty minutes before she couldn’t stand being in the quiet apartment. The last thing she needed was time to sit around and think, so she decided to go to the Fox & Hound for the Michigan game. She told herself it was because of the food, but the truth was she was lonely and didn’t really know where else to find company, especially with people who didn’t know her and wouldn’t ask the difficult questions. She pulled Stuart’s T-shirt out from under the covers, smoothed out the wrinkles, and put it on over a white long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. She chose her navy Converse.
It was so crowded when she got there that she thought about leaving. This was a mistake. She might be lonely, but this looked miserable. She was just turning around when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, Tabitha!”
It was Henry, Stuart’s good friend. They had lived in the same hall freshman year. She didn’t know how to respond. What was she thinking, coming here?
“Hey, Henry! It’s so nice to see you.”
“Here for the big game?”
No, just here to steal some food, she thought. “Yeah, Stu’s out of town, as you probably know, so I thought I would hold down the Michigan fort for both of us.”
“Huh, that’s unlike you,” he said, squinting his eyes at her but not necessarily in an unfriendly way. “Doesn’t he usually have to drag you here kicking and screaming?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘kicking and screaming,’” Tabitha said.
“I was actually thinking of calling you,” Henry said, and she was glad he was off the topic of why in the world she would come to watch a Michigan game in a sports bar when Stuart was away. Henry was such a slow talker. It bugged Tabitha. It had always bugged her. “I haven’t heard from Stu in a while. I was getting a little worried. I’ve left him a few voicemails and an email. I thought for sure he’d be here for the big game.”
“His trip keeps getting extended,” she said, smiling and nodding, acting like it was no big deal. “He should be back soon. Those miners’ contracts are always so complicated. And I think there was some talk of a strike. You know what that’s like—right? The not-so-romantic life of a lawyer? Especially one who singlehandedly runs his own firm.” She hoped Henry wouldn’t guess that she was completely making stuff up, so she added some facts into the mix. It was true that Stuart started his own firm about seven years ago, after working at huge law firms for years before that. It was also true that he somehow became specialized in mining issues, representing the actual miners’ unions in far-flung places around the country, something Tabitha always found a little odd. Whenever she asked Stuart why he chose this niche, he always waved her off, saying someone had to represent them. Now, though, with everything that she had learned before Stuart left, it didn’t seem quite so odd. Calculated might be a better way to describe it.
Henry was just about to say something; it took him a long time, moving his head up then down, getting his tongue ready to talk. Why did Stuart like him so much? It took him five minutes to say what it would take someone who talked at a normal pace one minute to say. What a waste of time. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live with him. As he opened his mouth, she spotted the man from the other night. His name was on the tip of her tongue. What was it? Oh yeah, Toby.
“Oh, hey, I see someone I want to say hi to,” she said, before Henry got his next word out. “But I’ll tell Stu to give you a call the next time I talk to him.”
“Okay, but,” Henry managed to say, but she was waving over her shoulder and walking toward Toby.
It took about two seconds for her to feel bad. Henry had always been kind to her. She didn’t mean to be mean. She was just so afraid he’d catch her in this lie. She turned to him and smiled and waved again. He did the same back to her, looking perfectly happy. Good, at least she hadn’t hurt his feelings.
Now she wondered if she could avoid Toby. She didn’t really want to talk to him, she just wanted to get away from Henry. What if he asked her more about her time at Michigan? But Toby spotted her, too, and was heading her way.
“How’s your daughter feeling?” he asked right away. He talked at a normal speed, which she appreciated more than usual. Also, he looked her right in the eyes, which felt good.
“It’s so nice of you to remember. She’s fine now, thank you,” Tabitha said. “When I got back that night, my son had it. It was awful, but he’s okay now, too.”
“Did you hold up okay?” Toby asked, like he really cared. The feeling she got reminded her of the time shortly after Levi was born when she had an appointment with the dentist. It was her first time out of the house in weeks, it seemed, and definitely the first time out alone. Stuart was home with the baby. She was so tired, so unprepared for what she had gotten herself into. When the dentist took a seat next to her and asked how she was, like he really meant it, looking right at her and patting her warmly on her hand, she had started to cry. He had been so sincere. She had been starting to wonder if she didn’t count anymore, if only the baby counted.
“You didn’t get sick, did you?” Toby prompted her, and she hoped she hadn’t looked dumb, spacing out.
“Oh, no, I’ve been fine, luckily,” she said. “But thanks for asking.”
It hadn’t even occurred to her that she might get it. What would the kids have done then? She hadn’t been really sick since Stuart left. Ugh. Something else to worry about.
“So, are you here with people?” Toby asked tentatively. “Or meeting someone?”
She felt her wedding ring, but not by touching it with her other hand. She sensed the weight of it on her finger. Funny how she could go days, weeks, without noticing it—it was like a part of her body, but now she was so aware of it that it took all her energy to not twist it.
“Nope,” she said. “I’m here alone.”
“Oh, okay. So am I. Do you want to try to get a seat?” Toby asked. “I see two in that far corner over there. And we’ll still be able to see the television.”
“Sure,” she said. Why not?
Toby rushed ahead, hurdling the chairs in his way. He made it to the back corner and put a hand on each of the seats, hard, claiming them. Tabitha laughed.
“It’s competitive around here,” he said when she reached him. “And I don’t mean just the game. You have to fight for your chairs.”
“I can see that,” she said, still smiling.
He swung a tattered black backpack off his shoulders and pulled two small banners out, which he attached to the tops of the seats. They were navy-blue and said MICHIGAN. He went back to his backpack and pulled out a bunch of ribbons and decorated what was still showing of the backs of the chairs. Finally, he yanked out a ziplock bag full of maize-and-blue confetti and threw it into the air around their general area. When he finished, he indicated that the seats were ready to be used. She just stared at him.
“I’m glad to see you’re better dressed today,” he said, his tone light.
“Oh, yeah, me too. That was a definite lapse in judgment.”
“This crowd isn’t quite as forgiving as the midweek crowd.”
“Also, a little crazier,” she said, picking up a tiny navy-blue piece of paper and tossing it at him. “Do you always carry decorations and confetti with you?”
“Oh, I should have explained that,” he said. “I have a daughter. She’s very into crafts. I’m always trying to come up with projects for her. Oh, that reminds me. I want to take a picture so she can see I appreciate and displayed her work.”
Still feeling the weight of her own ring, which she realized was so stupid—she wasn’t doing anything—she glanced at his left hand while he snapped the photo. No wedding band, but a very clear white line where it once sat while his hand was getting tan—so it couldn’t have been that long ago that he took it off. But she guessed it wasn’t that morning. She covered her ring with her right hand. She didn’t want Toby to see it. She didn’t want to have to answer more of his questions.
Toby fiddled with his phone, presumably sending his daughter the photo, then he sat and indicated that Tabitha should also sit. Before she had a chance to ask him anything, the head of the alumni association chapter, the same guy from the other night, stood on a tall table, demanding everyone’s attention. Today he was covered from head to toe in maize and blue, with two scarves, one of each color, intertwined meticulously around his neck. Even his face was painted.
“Okay, Wolverines,” he called. People were still talking.
“Okay, Wolverines!” he tried again, so loudly that a few people jumped.
“Before kickoff, I want to sing a rousing round of ‘The Victors,’” he said. “This time I want them to be able to hear us in New York! No, better yet, I want them to be able to hear us in Ann Arbor! One, two, you know what to do . . .”
Once again, Tabitha found herself singing along. She was aware of Toby glancing at her, she assumed to see if she knew the words, to gauge how into it she was.
“Go Blue!” they all shouted at the end, fists in the air. She felt the place reverberate. And once again, she liked being a part of it. She went to a small liberal arts college in Hartford that had no school spirit at all. Well, none that she tapped into, anyway. Why hadn’t she been more interested when Stuart was here? Why did she always fight him about this?
All eyes were on the many television sets around their section of the bar. Toby was quiet as he watched the coin toss, which Michigan won, then he groaned when they chose to kick the ball first.
“They should save it for the second half,” he mumbled to himself.
Michigan kicked, the other team fumbled, and miraculously Michigan brought the ball to the twelve-yard line. The crowd went crazy. Tabitha felt her phone buzz. It was a text from Sarina’s mom.
Hey! I don’t want to alarm you but Fern seems a little off. Can you call me?
Tabitha sighed. She could feel her time here winding down. She hadn’t even begun to think about how to package up some food. She texted back.
Yes—I’ll call in 10! Thank you.
She watched the crowd as Michigan scored the first touchdown. There was another round of “The Victors,” then everyone settled back into their seats.
“So what’s your story?” Toby said at the exact moment she was about to say she had to go. Her story? Ha!
“You know what, I just got a text from my daughter’s friend’s mom,” Tabitha said, holding up her phone as if for proof. “I guess Fern isn’t feeling as well as I thought she was. I have to at least call, probably I have to go get her.”
“Oh, okay,” Toby said, clearly disappointed. “Same time, same place next week?”
She hesitated, and before she could answer, he smacked his forehead with his palm.
“Actually, I think my daughter has a birthday party to go to. I’m taking her, so . . .” he trailed off.
Part of her wanted to ask him what his story was, the other part thought it was better to not know. Honestly, wasn’t her life complicated enough?
“Okay, well,” she said, feeling her phone buzz again. Now Sarina’s mom was calling her. “I have to take this.”
She wound her way through the crowd, around the maze of chairs, and answered before she reached a quiet place.
“Hold on, hold on,” she called into the phone. “Just leaving a noisy restaurant.”
She pushed out onto Spruce Street and appreciated the quiet for a second.
“Hi, I’m here,” she said.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” Kaye said. “But Fern just isn’t herself today. I know you said she had been sick earlier this week. I don’t know if it’s that, or if she’s just tired. She really doesn’t seem to want to play, and she says her knee hurts. I don’t think she injured it at all, at least not since she’s been here, but when I tried to look at it she pulled it away. I thought I better call you.”
“Thanks,” Tabitha said, glancing at Toby through the window. He kept looking around like he expected her to come back. Or at least that’s what she briefly imagined he was doing; he probably hadn’t given her a second thought since she walked out. She was not thinking clearly. She took a deep breath. “I’ll be right there.”