her, to speak with her. If this was all he got with C.C., it was enough. She was a breath of fresh air when his life had felt heavy and stagnant. If the gift that someone gives you is merely to see that there is possibility for you, well, that’s still a pretty darn good gift.
He was just about to turn and head back into the restaurant when the door reopened a crack. His ridiculous heart flipped. The crack widened, her face appeared. A smile pulled at every part of his face. She was smiling too, as she lifted the little dog’s front paw and very gently touched it to its forehead in a small salute. He laughed out loud, she smiled radiantly, and that dog gave a single, happy bark that, for a second, he thought had come from him.
C.C. closed the door, her head inclined toward it still, after it shut. She couldn’t stop smiling. She turned finally, expecting Meg and Shelly to be right there, grinning, or even laughing at her, in a teasing sort of way. Spying, at least. But they were both at the far end of the room, at the bathroom sink area. Meg was fixing her hair, Shelly putting on some lipstick.
Or they were pretending to. C.C. could see both women’s reflections in the wide mirror, and Shelly’s big grin was making lipstick application nearly impossible. Meg, however, had a great poker face, and was innocently smoothing her short hair behind one ear.
But it was Meg who finally turned and said, ‘Well?’
‘Well, what?’ said C.C., setting M.J. on the floor in front of the TV. The little dog immediately began a sniffing inventory of the orange shag carpeting.
Shelly was warily eyeing the dog. ‘She wouldn’t pee and poop again, right?’ C.C. caught Shelly catching herself, the furtive glance toward the window. C.C. turned, looked at the window, saw the curtain pulled to the side, and realized they had been watching her. Like little weasels they had obviously scurried to the mirror together so as not to get caught in the act.
‘Well, actually, she didn’t do either outside.’ Two can play at this game, thought C.C., adopting an expression of pure innocence. Shelly eyed her.
‘Did you have a nice walk?’ Meg asked.
‘Yes. Thank you.’ C.C. busied herself putting a sweater and her nightgown into her suitcase, open on the bed.
‘Well?’ said Shelly.
‘Well, what?’ C.C. said, not even looking up, enjoying the moment. She tucked the sweater in, using her fingers to get it just right. Then she lifted the suitcase top over, brought it edge to edge, slowly zippered it shut.
‘Oh, come on, Ceece!’ whined Shelly. ‘We want details! We saw him walking with you. What’d he say?’
She faced the two of them, her fingertips on her chest. ‘What? You two were spying on me? I’m shocked!’ She held in a giddy laugh.
‘Well…yes?’ said Meg, looking genuinely sheepish.
‘Hell, yeah!’ said Shelly, proudly.
C.C. couldn’t keep up her act, nor could she deny the smile that had been a force unto itself since she’d come back in the room. She’d have been surprised, and maybe even hurt, if they hadn’t spied on her. She stepped toward them exuberantly. ‘Well, y’all remember when we were talking last week, how we all felt like teenagers, going on this big adventure, so much unknown in our lives?’ They nodded, Meg pulling C.C. by the hand to the near bed. They all three tumbled onto the unmade bed, arranging themselves in the standard, juicy-details triangle born of long friendship.
‘Well, it’s like Aunt Georgie told me after the car accident. “Hon,” she said, “your teenage years are pretty much a puzzle to begin with, and you maybe have some of the edges put together, a few pieces in the middle. Then, a tragedy like this happens and it’s like a big wind blowing ’em all to Kingdom Come. And when all those pieces drift back down, it takes a while to find them. Then another while to put ’em back together again. And sometimes the picture’s a little different. Parts that you were sure were sky, suddenly seem to be ocean. But no matter what, it’s your puzzle. Your picture.”’
C.C. smiled, remembering how often Aunt Georgie would talk in metaphors of painting or art. But she saw Shelly looking impatient. C.C. knew she had a tendency to go on a mite long with her stories, especially about her southern past, so she tried to speed it up. ‘Well, she was really right about that, let me tell you. And I never really imagined my life being blown up a second time. But of course, it was. A bunch more times! There was Billy.’ Oh, she could go on about that! But she gulped a breath and went on. ‘Then having Kathryn so young, and alone and all…’ Shelly was circling her finger through the air, hurrying her along, which irritated C.C., but she pressed on. ‘Anyway, then when I met and married Lenny, and he took Kathryn on like his own flesh-and-blood daughter, and he was so good…’ C.C. stopped, looked at them both. ‘You know what I used to call him? Lenny?’
They nodded, said in unison, ‘Yes, your Steady Eddy.’
C.C. smiled. ‘Yeah. I mean, to another woman he might have seemed pretty boring. But to me, he was just pure golden goodness.’ She laughed. ‘Well, most of the time. We had our little spats.’
M.J. pawed gently at her leg, whining.
‘For God’s sakes, woman!’ Shelly yelled. ‘Even the dog wants you to get to the point! Your walk? This morning?’
C.C. laughed, bent and picked M.J. up, settled her on her lap, stroking her palm over the dog’s bony back. She remembered her point. ‘Well, I guess it’s that I feel like a teenager again, in more ways than just going on this trip. This thing with Purdy, I didn’t believe it at first, just plum didn’t believe it. But I can tell you it’s…fun.’ She whispered the last word. ‘It makes me feel, I don’t know, I guess, alive in a whole new way.’ She laughed. ‘Or whole old way! But I assure you, girls, this is just harmless, a passing fancy. As in, just passing through.’ She ran her hand in front of her, then off toward the horizon.
‘Did you kiss him?’ asked Shelly.
‘Of course not! We only just met!’ C.C. said, indignant. But then she smiled, pleased that Shelly thought it could have happened. ‘Purdy is a complete gentleman. And a little shy, I think. Besides, you saw pretty much everything, did you not?’ She gestured toward the window. Shelly winked, nodded. But Meg’s cheeks pinked, and she stood, began making the bed.
‘Meg!’ said Shelly. ‘What are you doing?’
Meg stopped, the sheet still clutched in both hands.
‘They have maids for that,’ said Shelly. C.C. wondered if that was true. She bet Purdy did it himself. ‘Besides,’ continued Shelly, ‘they’ll just strip the sheets off, y’know.’ She pulled her toiletries bag from her suitcase and walked to the sink area and began to gather the unused soap and small bottles of shampoo and lotion, tucking them into her bag.
Meg stared blankly at the headboard, still holding the sheet.
C.C. put M.J. on the floor, stepped next to Meg and put her arm around her thin, hunched shoulders. Poor Meg. She seemed so lost without her routines, her structured life. Her structured home. Her structured classroom. Her structured marriage. And there wasn’t one little bitty wisp of her old life left. Except for them.
Meg slowly pulled the sheet back, stripping the bed. C.C. watched as she made a neat pile of the linens on the mattress. She folded both the blanket and bedspread into equal-sized squares, placed them on the chair. She then headed to the second bed.
C.C. dragged her suitcase off, getting out of her way. As Meg pulled the pillows out of their cases, and Shelly tucked her bulging toiletries bag into her suitcase, C.C. wondered how the mood had changed so suddenly. Something about mentioning being a teenager, she thought. She decided a few more details from her walk were in order.
‘So,