Joy opened the window and let the cool air in. It smelled like flowers even on this busy street. She braced herself for yet another restaurant with painfully loud music, painfully hard benches, women in painfully high heels and men comfortable in sneakers, all of them eating spicy, fishy fragments of raw things on little saucers. It was the same in New York, she supposed, but she never went to restaurants like that in New York. She was in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs.
It seemed like a long time before they finally pulled into a parking structure, then spiraled down several levels until they found a space. Disoriented, Joy squeezed out of the car and followed Freddie to an elevator that took them back to street level. Freddie was still talking. Something about her department at the university trying to screw someone over in a fourth-year review and a committee that never met. Joy thought of the museum, of Miss Georgia, of all the orphaned artifacts she could no longer tend to. She was grateful to Freddie for talking, for trying. Freddie was a good sport. Joy remembered being a good sport. It required energy and optimism and faith, and it had been quite rewarding. Really, she had spent her entire life being a good sport. But to what end? She had grown old and uncomfortable, just like a bad sport. And now she was a bad sport. There was no protection in good behavior. She felt suddenly compassionate toward Freddie, struggling on in a unilateral conversation that would not protect her from the disappointments of old age.
“You’re a good sport, Freddie,” she said.
Freddie’s face lit up, that tan, weathered face, into an almost goofy smile. How charming, that large unconscious grin. Freddie’s was not a beautiful, womanly face by any stretch of the imagination, more a wary, taut look to her, but when she smiled, the contrast was overwhelmingly pleasant. It made Joy grin back at her. It was like a happy slap on the back, that smile, an arm thrown joyfully around your shoulder. It was as friendly a smile as Joy could remember seeing. It was irresistible. No wonder Molly fell in love with this person. Joy marveled that she had never noticed the warmth of that smile, of everything about Freddie, really. Then she realized she had never really looked at Freddie’s face before. It had been an indistinct oval, an unwelcome blur from the dreaded California.
“This is very nice of you,” Joy said.
They walked a quarter of a block, then turned into a small strip mall. There was a sushi restaurant, a Korean barbecue, a nail salon, and an Italian restaurant. Freddie opened the door of the Italian restaurant.
“It’s so quiet,” Joy said.
“It’s so comfortable,” she added, sliding into a padded booth.
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” she told the waiter happily. “Just what I wanted.”
“This place has been here forever,” Freddie said. “My father used to take us when I was a kid. I bring him back once in a while, but he doesn’t remember it, so it’s kind of sad.”
Joy reached across the table for Freddie’s hand. “It’s awful when they don’t remember what you remember, even when you’re right there with them. It’s like nothing exists anymore.”
Freddie was crying, just a few tears. Joy had never seen her cry. She was such an odd little thing, ebullient and tough all at once. Poignant tears, not like me, Joy thought, with my weeping and wailing every minute. Not like Molly, either.
“No one really understands this particular abyss,” Joy said. “Our abyss.”
“No, they don’t. But why should they, I suppose.”
“We’re an exclusive club.”
“The Abyss Club,” Freddie said, laughing. She took her hand back, wiped her eyes with the big cloth napkin.
They had ricotta cheesecake and cannolis for dessert.
“I’ll pay for it later,” Joy said. “So I always say. But it never stops me.”
*
Molly and Freddie disappeared the next morning and came home with a very small dog.
“You can walk it,” they said.
“Step on it is more likely.”
“Listen, it’s perfect: Freddie and I went to the pound and rescued this little fellow. Now we have a dog, right?”
“Apparently.”
“But we both have jobs, right?”
“Thank god. I don’t care what the ‘experts’ report about the economy, people are suffering, that’s all I can say.”
“We have a dog, but because of our jobs we don’t have time to walk the dog. So, Freddie and I really need you, Mom. We need you to walk our dog.”
“It would be a big help to us,” Freddie said. She smiled, and Joy of course smiled back and took the new plaid leash attached to the tiny dog.
They were such nice girls, and she appreciated the thought and effort that had gone into the plan. It was creative of the girls, she had to give them that. And she was touched that they cared enough about her mental health to go to such lengths to give her something to do. It was not their fault that the dog refused to cooperate.