Evidence of Life

Chapter 14



During their sophomore year of college when Kate insisted on setting up Abby’s blind date with Baylor Gates, Abby resisted. She said she had to study.

“Bullshit,” Kate said.

Abby made another excuse. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Try this.” Kate emerged from their tiny dormitory closet and tossed a scrap of black silk at Abby. “It’s too small for me and looks better on you anyway. Only blondes look great in black.”

Abby fingered the silky material.

“Come on, Abby. This is college, where you are—believe it or not—supposed to have fun.”

A pause fell. Abby felt Kate’s gaze; she felt the weight of Kate’s concern for her, and it made her feel anxious and guilty.

Kate stamped her foot. “Holy Jesus Christ, Abby. You sat at home all through high school, then you sat in the dorm all last year. I can’t stand it anymore. You live like a nun, and it’s making me look bad.”

Abby laughed and donned the little black dress; she slipped her feet into the impossibly high-heeled sandals and didn’t think twice about it. She and Kate had been friends too long for trust to be an issue. And as badly as it would end, Abby would never believe Kate meant to do it. She didn’t purposely set Abby up with Baylor to then betray her. What Kate wanted was for Abby to relax and have fun. She had no patience for it when Abby said dating made her nervous.

It was no different that evening meeting Baylor, but then he took her hand, and she grew dizzy at his touch. She felt as if she would float out of the hated shoes, yet at the same time she felt a longing to press herself against him that was all-consuming, unlike any sensation she had ever experienced before. And from that night on, Baylor’s pursuit of her was so tender and careful that when they finally made love, it was Abby who initiated it.

Except for their class schedules—Baylor was a business major, Abby was studying elementary education—they were inseparable. For the first time ever, Abby felt she belonged somewhere. She had always been Kate’s friend, accepted because of Kate, but as Baylor’s girlfriend, she was part of his crowd. It was the same as Kate’s crowd, the one that, since grade school, Abby had only skirted the outer edge of.

But dating Baylor, her confidence grew. It was as if she had stepped into a warmer climate, thrown off her old shy self like some old coat. She couldn’t imagine life without Baylor, friends, plans, a steady date. She was finally somebody. One of the It girls, the special girls, who got flowers for no reason and late-night, miss-you phone calls.

It seemed only natural when they began to discuss marriage. Abby couldn’t believe her luck, and she assumed Baylor felt the same joy in their discovery of one another. It didn’t once occur to her that his commitment to her wasn’t as deep.

* * *

Junior year, their crowd made plans to go to Cancun for spring break. Abby and Kate had packed their bags, and they were waiting for Tim—Kate’s latest and greatest, and last, or so she claimed—and Baylor to pick them up, when someone down the hall hollered that Abby had a phone call.

“Don’t tell me it was the guys,” Kate said when Abby reappeared.

She touched her brow, struggling to marshal the words. “It’s Daddy, he’s in the hospital. He had a heart attack.”

“Oh, no.” Kate hugged Abby and, releasing her, looked her over anxiously.

“I have to go home,” she said and, eyeing her suitcase, added, “At least I’m packed.”

“Shorts and T-shirts, a strapless sundress and two bikinis. Not exactly hospital attire. Besides it’s cold out.” Kate lifted the suitcase and tossed out the contents on the bed. She went to Abby’s drawers and returned with assorted sweatshirts and pullover turtlenecks. Abby added jeans and flannel pajamas. She changed her sandals for socks and tennis shoes.

“What’s this?” Baylor spoke from the doorway. Tim was behind him.

“My dad had a heart attack,” Abby said. “I have to go home.”

Baylor and Kate wanted to drive Abby into Houston, but Abby refused. She didn’t want their trip to be ruined on her account.

* * *

The first heart attack was mild, scarcely more than a warning. Her father was up and walking the day after Abby’s arrival and discharged from the hospital a few days later with a new cholesterol-lowering diet and exercise regimen. He and Abby took walks together around the neighborhood, and she told him about Baylor, about loving him. Her dad was misty-eyed and held her hand. He was more sentimental since the scare with his heart. He said, “Just yesterday, you were having me in to tea with your dolls. I had to wear your grandmother’s hat with the floppy rim and big flower. Do you remember?”

Abby squeezed his arm and bent her head to his shoulder. “Maybe soon you’ll have a granddaughter to invite you to tea.”

“I hope there’s going to be a wedding first,” her daddy said drily.

Abby laughed. “Of course. It’ll be something small and elegant. In the afternoon, I think. You and Baylor can wear gray. It’s a much softer color than black.” Abby could see it in her mind. The images were as clear as photographs, so clear, it was as if they were already gathered into an album. One so real to her that even years later, when the pain of remembering was only a worn stain on the floor of her mind, a moment would come when she would catch herself wondering what she’d done with it.

* * *

Abby was waiting in the dormitory lounge on the day Baylor and the others were due home. She imagined he would be sunburned and hungry.

“Baylor is always hungry,” Abby had said this to her mother. She had said she wanted to copy the family recipes. She thought she would purchase those three-by-five cards, the ones with the cute kitcheny designs, and a recipe box to match. She would need a Joy of Cooking, too, like her mother’s. Abby looked up when the door to the dormitory opened, expecting to see a crowd, anxious to see Baylor, but it was only Kate who was there, and her face when she saw Abby seemed to freeze, except for her glance that darted everywhere as if Abby was the last person she wanted to look at.

Abby felt a whisper of dread, the narrowest ribbon of cold premonition, unfurl from her stomach. She stood up, bringing her hands together. Her mouth opened. The word, “What?” was poised, a question that blistered her tongue. She wouldn’t ever be certain if she spoke it out loud.

But Kate answered as if Abby had. “We didn’t mean for anything to happen,” she said, and it was a protest, a plea; it was all Abby needed to hear to know that the “anything” Kate was referring to meant that everything between Abby and Baylor was over.

Abby hugged herself hard and shrank from Kate’s touch.

“I’m so sorry,” Kate said, and Abby despised the tears in Kate’s voice.

“I knew we were attracted to each other,” she said, “but I was with Kevin and then I—I met Tim. I guess I never thought—”

“What?” Abby fired the word like a bullet. “That I’d fall for him? I was just supposed to keep him amused until you were between guys? Have you been keeping an eye on him? Watching for signs of boredom? Figuring the instant you were ready and I wasn’t paying attention, you could crook your finger and he’d drop me flat? How could you?” Abby slapped at her own angry tears.

“It just happened. I—I don’t know.”

“But you’ve had feelings for him all along, haven’t you? Which you never bothered to mention to me. Naturally. It’s just like you.”

“I never thought—”

“You never do.”

Abby stared at Kate a moment longer, and then, stumbling, she turned and ran.

* * *

They never shared their room again, nor did they speak. Abby caught sight of Kate with Baylor sometimes on campus, and the pain was so intense, she thought that, like her father’s heart, hers, too, was under attack. The wedding was in summer after graduation. Abby wasn’t invited, not that she’d have gone. She had moved home, lacking a better plan, and she was there to help her mother nurse her father when he was forced to undergo heart bypass surgery. It was Abby’s mother who told her Kate had moved with Baylor to Chicago.

Good riddance, Abby had thought. She couldn’t imagine that she and Kate would ever speak again. But then one day, a few years later, on the occasion of Abby’s engagement to Nick, Kate called to offer congratulations and her hope for Abby’s happiness. Abby was gracious; she could afford to be because she was happy, happier than she had ever been in her life. And it was in the wake of saying this to Kate that it dawned on her she had Kate to thank for it. As grievous a betrayal as it was, if Kate hadn’t taken Baylor away, Abby might never have met Nick. She might have missed finding the love of her life.

She and Kate both recognized the irony.