Chapter 24
Russ came home a few hours later. When he saw me, he took a step back, jingling his keys.
“Whoa,” he said. “Why’d you do that?”
I told him I’d just felt like it. By this, I meant that after I got off the phone with Carol, I decided I wanted the rollers out of my hair. But instead of unrolling them, I got the kitchen scissors and cut them out. My hair was still wrapped around them when they went in the trash.
“Jesus.” He put his free hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “It’s just that…Jesus. Can somebody fix it?”
I shook my head. That had been the point. It had never occurred to me, not once, that Miss Berry might be lying about the couple with the piano. I wondered how many girls she’d told this lie to, and how many had believed her. Carol hadn’t. Not for a minute.
“I’m not trying to be mean,” Russ said.
“I know,” I said. I could tell when he was trying.
He put his hand in my hair and tugged on a few strands like he was hoping that would make them longer. “I don’t think we can cancel,” he said. “They got his mom to watch Buddy Jr.”
I told him we didn’t need to cancel. “I’ll put a ribbon in it or something. I made a salmon casserole. It’s all ready. Go ahead and shower.”
With that, I went back to the kitchen. I didn’t want to cancel. Buddy was hardly my favorite of Russ’s friends, but his wife, Peg, was always nice to me.
Russ was still getting dressed when they arrived. I opened the front door, and they both gasped. Peg recovered more quickly.
“You’re like Audrey Hepburn!” She stepped closer to where I stood in the entry. “Wow. I could never be that brave.”
“Glad to hear it,” Buddy said, and laughed until Peg hit him. He wore a bright red shirt with an embroidered parrot on the pocket. “I’ll hide the scissors, just in case.”
“He only means I don’t have the face for it.” Peg stepped inside and started to take off her shoes. When I told her she needn’t bother, she shook her head. “They’re killing me. My feet got bigger with the baby, like my butt.”
Buddy strode past me and hollered for Russ, who emerged from the hallway in clean clothes, his hair still wet from the shower. He didn’t smile, and I understood that he was embarrassed of me. The ribbon didn’t really help.
“What’s buzzin’, cousin?” Buddy twirled his hat on one finger, then handed it to me.
“Let’s take the boat out, catch the sunset,” Russ said. “We’ve got all night to eat.”
That was fine with me. My casserole would lose its little soufflé top, but Russ knew, as I did, that going out on The Last Laugh calmed him like nothing else could.
When he came home angry about a lazy employee, or an unpaid bill, or the streets clogged with tourists who couldn’t drive, he’d often head directly to the boat and stay out on the water until he felt better.
Sometimes he went by himself. Sometimes he liked to have me with him, sitting beside him and not saying anything even when he stepped on the gas and turned an arc so tight I was sure we’d tip.
For me, a few moments of terror seemed a fair exchange for a smoother evening to follow.
This evening as well, getting behind the wheel of the boat did wonders for his mood.
Peg had tied a kerchief around her hair, but we were going so fast the wind snatched it into the water, and soon enough, her hair looked pretty crazy, too.
We stayed out for almost an hour. By the time we sat down for drinks on the patio, the clouds were pink with the setting sun.
The construction workers had all gone home, and our limb of the island was quiet.
Buddy and Russ reminisced about youthful antics, and I sipped my drink, trying to focus on how good the breeze felt against my neck and ears without so much hair in the way.
But I was mostly thinking of Miss Berry, how she lied about the people with the piano.
She might never have even met the people who adopted my daughter.
She’d just wanted me to sign, to get her away from me.
“Okay,” Buddy said. “I see we’re boring your poor wife to death. Time for a change in subject.” He smiled at Peg. “You want to tell them the big news?”
I looked across the table in time to see Peg shake her head. I knew what Buddy would say next. I had time to get into character.
“Buddy Jr. will soon be a big brother.” He popped an olive into his mouth. “This one’s due in June.”
How wonderful, my character thought. I reached across the table to squeeze Peg’s hand.
I said congratulations. Russ jumped up and ran around the table so he could slap Buddy on the back.
I’d set out a fresh pitcher of vodka lemonade, and before Russ sat back down, he topped off everyone’s glass and made an earnest toast that included the word shazam.
“Thank you, friend.” Buddy looked at me, and then at Russ. “So when are you two gonna have an ankle biter?”
Before either one of us could answer, Buddy whipped his head toward Peg.
“What was that for?” He leaned down to rub his leg.
“Rude question,” she whispered. I sipped my drink, the lemonade tart on my tongue.
The ribbon in what was left of my hair felt tight, so I tugged it out.
From the corner of my vision, I could see Russ leaning back in his chair.
He smiled at me in a wistful sort of way.
I looked at my watch, then out at the water.
“It’s not rude.” Buddy took another swig. “It’s a good question! We’re not getting any younger.”
“I’m going to check on the casserole,” I said. I didn’t look at Russ, and he didn’t look at me.
Peg jumped up and said she’d come in with me. I told her she should just sit down and relax, but she shook her head, glared at Buddy, and pushed her chair in.
In the kitchen, she told me that she was so embarrassed, and that Buddy was drunk, and that he just didn’t think sometimes.
Peg had gone to high school in Clearwater, and because she’d always been so friendly to me, I’d convinced myself that she’d heard nothing of my going away my senior year.
But that evening in my kitchen, she looked at me with so much sympathy that I was sure she knew about the baby.
Looking back at her, I felt the pressure of tears, and not from sadness. For a moment, I felt understood.
“Have you and Russ ever thought of adopting?”
I was holding the casserole dish, a pot holder on each hand. I shook my head. Behind her, the window over the sink let in the last amber light of the sun.
She stepped toward me. “My cousin in Pensacola adopted a little boy last year. I saw him at Christmas, and oh my goodness, this child.” She raised her palms as if in surrender. “He’s just beautiful. And they brought him home when he was just two weeks old. My cousin is the only mama he knows.”
Even with the pot holders, I could feel the heat of the dish, my fingertips starting to tingle. I could have set the dish on the counter, but I didn’t.
“It did cost quite a bit, I think. They had to save for years.” She looked around the kitchen.
“It looks like that wouldn’t be such a problem for you and Russ.
And you know, they’ve got all those orphans coming over from Korea.
But there’s white babies, too, maybe orphans, or their parents didn’t want them.
It breaks my heart. All these little babies that need homes. ”
“Why does it cost money?” I asked. “If the babies need homes, why does it cost?”
She tilted her head, thinking. “I guess I don’t know,” she said. “There’s the hospital. But my cousin and her husband paid a lot more than we did to have Buddy Junior. I guess they have to pay the agency.”
Again, Miss Berry appeared in my mind. Her pretty clothes. How I’d admired them.
“Why are you laughing?” Peg asked. When I didn’t answer, she told me to set down the casserole dish so I wouldn’t burn my fingers.
“This is my house,” I said. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Poor Peg. Here she was on her big night out, trying to be nice.
I’m sure she wanted to go home right then.
But there was nothing for her to do but follow me back out, where Buddy and Russ were talking football, specifically the NFL draft.
The conversation didn’t pause as she took her place at the table.
When I served her some of the casserole, she thanked me, and said nothing else, turning away to gaze out at the water.
It was almost dark, a full moon rising, ghostly and close to the horizon.
Russ said he liked the casserole. His eyes were glazed, his cheeks red.
He smiled at me as if my haircut no longer offended him.
I imagined telling him I had to go visit an out-of-town friend for a few days.
I could take the train up to New York, and then a taxi to Shaded Acres.
I could pound on the front door, and as soon as it opened, I’d run inside and tell any girl who would listen not to believe the story about the couple with the piano, and not to believe anything Miss Berry said, and to instead ask her how much she got paid every time a girl signed the papers.
But even with my head buzzing from the vodka, I knew that the girls there now would just think I was some crazy woman with crazy hair.
News of my visit would get back to Miss Berry, who could just think up a different story, maybe adoptive parents with a pony ranch, adoptive parents who’d already put up a swing set made of gold, adoptive parents who ran their own summer camp in Maine.
Another problem with the plan was that Russ would never believe me. I was as bad at lying as I’d ever been. And he knew I didn’t have any friends.