Chapter Thirteen
“So no more Carter?” Mo jabbed at the ice in her diet soda with her straw. They’d met for dinner after work, at a hectic midtown eatery full of dark wood and clattering cutlery. Eliza suspected it was her friend’s way of trying to make sure she ate?—and that she did more than go to work and curl up on her couch under a blanket.
“No more Carter,” Eliza confirmed, lining up her salad fork neatly next to her dinner fork. “How was your date?”
“Really nice, actually.”
Eliza could tell that Mo was trying not to smile but failing miserably.
“That’s great!” It had been a while since Mo had met someone she liked. “What’s his name?”
“Nik. Actually, Nikhil. All these years of me refusing to meet the Indian boys my parents wanted to set me up with?—if this ends up going anywhere, they’ll be beside themselves.”
“Maybe parents do know best.” Though they came from her own lips, the words hit Eliza like a club.
She never knew how she’d feel day to day or minute to minute. When Laura died, the grief had been crushing and all-consuming. It was different with Jack. He had been a much less significant presence in her life. They spoke so rarely, and the distance between them often felt unbridgeable. Yet knowing he was out there versus being gone was proving hard to cope with.
Mo reached out and touched her arm, and Eliza’s eyes filled. She fluttered her hands at her own face. “No, I’m okay. Let’s just move on.”
The harried server, her hair coming loose from its ponytail, appeared with a caesar salad with grilled chicken for Mo and a squash soup for Eliza. “Are you all set for now? Do you need anything else?” she asked almost as an afterthought as she turned away from the table.
“We’re fine,” Mo said to her retreating back before neatly spearing a stack of lettuce and shaved parmesan on her fork. “How are you feeling about kicking Carter to the curb? Hey?—that could be the name of a sitcom. Or a band. Kicking Carter to the Curb .”
Eliza snorted. “A really bad band, maybe. I’m fine. I mean?—he was easy. No pressure, no expectations.” No support, no real intimacy. “But with everything else going on, it was just one more thing to juggle.”
Mo nodded as she popped a crouton into her mouth. “And it goes without saying that you deserve better. Oh. Wait. I think I just said it. Oops.” Mo grinned. “Though I will say, once I finally got to see him, I understood the appeal. He’s pretty fine.”
“Yes. That he is.” But when her brain went to conjure an image of Carter, it produced one of Josh instead. She blew on the soup steaming in her spoon. “Changing subjects, though.” She sipped the soup while Mo looked at her expectantly. “You will not believe the latest at work.”
“Vanessa walked in on Davin and Amber screwing on her desk?”
“Oh my God. Ew! Now that’s what I’m going to see every time I walk into Vanessa’s office.”
Mo shrugged. “Sorry!” But her impish grin didn’t look apologetic.
“ Anyway ... so Vanessa decided to create an award for education research that she wants to announce at the gala.” Eliza gave Mo the highlights, ending with the plan to connect with universities.
“Education faculty?” Mo asked flatly.
“Exactly. Education faculty. She tried to assign me to do outreach to NYU.”
Mo put her fork down and reached for her Diet Coke, taking a long swallow. “Tried to assign you?” she asked.
“I traded with Patrice.”
“Huh.” Mo looked thoughtful as she ate a bite of chicken.
“What?”
“Just thinking. Maybe you shouldn’t have traded. It would have been the perfect way for you to meet Professor Sawyer without having to tell him who you are. Scope him out.”
“Sounds like a bad movie.” Eliza reached for a piece of French bread from the basket between them.
Mo shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a terrible idea.”
Eliza raised her eyebrows. “Well, I suppose I could sneak into the back of one of his classes.” She laughed.
“You laugh?—but why not?” Mo’s eyes sparkled.
Eliza couldn’t believe her sensible friend was making these markedly not sensible suggestions. “Why not? Because I think someone who is clearly not a college student would stand out like a sore thumb skulking around a classroom!”
Mo wrinkled her nose. “You could totally pass for a college student. Put on a sweatshirt and no one would be the wiser. And in a lecture hall, who would notice? Aren’t those NYU classes all huge?”
Eliza shook her head. “How would I know?”
“I can see it now. You’ll ask all sorts of clever questions and...”
“Oh, so now not only am I sneaking in but I’m making a spectacle of myself? You’re not actually suggesting this, are you?” Eliza had gotten caught up in the silliness for a moment, but then it hit her?—did Mo not get what this was like for her? That this really wasn’t a slapstick comedy? It was her life .
A few hours later, as Eliza walked home from the subway, she thought about Mo’s idea. She had firmly changed the subject, unused to the harsh feelings bubbling up inside her. At least, unused to them directed at Mo. Now she reminded herself that Mo loved her and had always looked out for her. Maybe she shouldn’t rule out her idea entirely. The prospect of having the opportunity to get to know Ross in a “safe” setting?—without him knowing who she really was?—had some appeal.
She could also see the wisdom of Josh’s and Aunt Claude’s advice that she not rush into anything. As it was, she could feel the tectonic plates shifting beneath her. Her life had been a series of earthquakes and aftershocks ever since Laura was first diagnosed. Was that everyone’s life? Did the whole world feel this constant sense of uncertainty and imbalance? Or was it just her? It was what made staying in bed so enticing?—when she was secure on her mattress under the covers, she was a little less afraid that she’d crash against the jagged rocks.
The wind picked up as she reached her front door, and she hurried inside, pulling her keys out of her purse. Locating her silver mailbox key, she fitted it into the lock and opened the small door. ConEd bill, credit card bill, Macy’s coupons... and a peach postcard from the US Postal Service. We have item/s for you which we could not deliver. Signature required. Odd. Item sent by C. Levinger. Carol. Why was Carol sending her a letter? And one that required a signature?