“Oh, Birdie, that’s wonderful. I hated it when you gave up on your talent.”
Elizabeth was surprised by that. “You thought I had talent? You never told me that.”
Anita sighed, then said, “Ah, honey, I told you. Well. You take care now, y’hear?”
“You, too, Anita. And think about sitting on a beach.”
“I’ll do that, honey. I surely will. I could use a change of scenery.”
TWENTY
If there was a still a sun out there, tethering the earth in its orbit, you’d never have known it. The midday sky was as thick and heavy as granite.
On a day like this, neither stormy nor clear, there was nothing to do except build a fire, curl up on the sofa with a cup of tea, and call your best friend. So, that was exactly what Elizabeth did.
“Who’s dead?” Meghann answered gruffly.
Elizabeth glanced at the clock. It was nine-forty-five on a Saturday morning. “I’m guessing that my slutty best friend got lucky last night.”
“Lucky is a relative term. I got laid.” Meghann paused. “You know it’s not gonna be a long-term relationship when foreplay lasts just under ten minutes and that’s twice as long as the sex itself. Hang on. I’m getting coffee.” The phone clunked down on a tabletop. A minute later, Meghann picked it up again. “So, how was the class?”
“I did it. I painted.”
“I knew you could do it. How was it? Are you still great? Oh, and did you get the college catalogs I sent you?”
“Slow down, Counselor. One step at a time. I painted again. That’s enough for now.”
“I’m proud of you, Birdie.”
“I take it you didn’t listen to your messages last night. My instructor is a hunk.”
“No shit? A hunk in nowheresville? That’s just my luck. They’re probably leaving the cities in droves. How old is he?”
“Perfect for you. He’d have no idea what a Pet Rock is.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
Meghann sighed dramatically. “You’re forty-five, not ninety-five. Did you feel a little twinge?”
Elizabeth didn’t know why she was surprised by that question. For years, Meghann had interrogated her about her so-called fantasy life. Meg had been unable to believe that Elizabeth wasn’t attracted to other men.
I’m not saying you’d do anything about it, Meghann used to say, but you can’t tell me you haven’t fantasized.
The conversation had always left Elizabeth feeling vaguely abnormal, but the truth was she hadn’t been attracted to other men. Oh, every now and then she’d see a man on television and think, There’s a good-looking guy. But she’d never brought mental images to the bedroom. God knew, she’d never considered being unfaithful. She still couldn’t imagine it. Truthfully, sex with Jack had always been more than good enough. It had been only recently that they’d begun to lose their passion. “Yes, actually,” she answered, surprising herself. “Then I remembered what size my underwear is.”
“You’re pathetic, you know that? If you hadn’t had an eating disorder for half of your life, you’d realize that you look good.”
“I never had an eating disorder.”
“Exactly what Flockhart and Boyle say. The point is, you’ve put on a few pounds—only a few. You’re still beautiful. Brad would be lucky to get a shot with you.”
This discussion had turned south faster than a prison escapee. “Yeah, right. I think—Oh, just a second, my other line is beeping.” She checked her Caller ID. “Meg? This is the girls. I need to take it. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay. I’m proud of you, Birdie. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“I am. Thanks.” Elizabeth hung up one call and answered the other. “Hello?”
“Mom?”
It was Jamie. “Hey, Sunshine,” Elizabeth said, “it’s good to hear your voice. How did the meet go?”
Jamie burst into tears.
“Honey, what’s the matter?”
“I h-hate swimming. I’m wet all the time.”
“That can’t come as much of a surprise. You’ve been swimming since grade school.” Elizabeth honestly tried not to smile, but it was difficult. Her drama queen younger daughter’s crises were as dependable as a tropical rainstorm and lasted about as long. She must have lost her races at Saturday’s meet.
“I know, but I’m sick of it. And I’m about thirty seconds away from flunking out.”
Now, that was new. Elizabeth sat up straighter, pulled her knees toward her chest. “What about that tutor we hired for you?”
There was a short pause; then Jamie said, “I’m dating him. Michael. He is soooo cute. He plays the saxophone in the college’s jazz quartet. How sexy is that? He’s the first guy I’ve ever dated who doesn’t talk about ball handling and go gaga over Dad.”