Stella opened the door. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Although, you were on that talk circuit. I could use someone like you as a guest speaker!”
We circled the front building to the sidewalk.
“I think those days are behind me,” I said. “I’m trying to look forward, not back.”
She fell in step beside me as we navigated the cracked cement of this forlorn part of town. “That’s a good policy,” she said. “I endorse it wholeheartedly.”
We passed her little shop. A sign on the door had a cardboard clock showing when she’d be back. “Do you actually make money on your store?” I asked.
“It pays for itself,” she said. “I do better with my online shop, but I want somewhere to go. Makes me feel like I’m actually doing something.”
That made sense to me. I felt I had little purpose at the moment. Adrift. Of course, I’d left my job behind. Sometimes I felt a twinge of regret for the patients who had been doing therapy with me, but if I were honest, I knew that all I was doing was getting them through a rough hospital stay. The faces switched out constantly. I was just a blip in their lives, a job to be taken over by real therapists once they were home.
“You’re deep in thought,” Stella said. We had arrived at the Thai restaurant and she held open the door.
“Sorry.” I went inside. The interior was dark and lit with wall lamps. The front windows were blacked out with heavy red drapes.
“For two?” a young girl asked, holding menus.
“Yes, thank you,” Stella said.
We walked past a smattering of customers. She sat us near the kitchen door, which was warm and smelled of sweet sauces and bean curd.
I slid into a booth and glanced at the menu. Nothing appealed to me, but maybe some soup would be good.
“So, did you get back to your friends?” Stella asked.
“They’re not exactly giving me the space I asked for,” I told her.
“Did you tell them you were cremating the baby?”
I closed my menu. “I’m not up for explaining myself right now.”
The girl came back with water, and we gave her our order. I was starting to feel overwarm near the kitchen door, and held the cool glass with both hands.
“So, who is in your group now?” I asked. If I could get Stella talking, she would hold up both ends of the conversation.
“We’re big right now, ten or so,” Stella said. “It goes up and down. I used to think it was seasonal or phases of the moon. Then I realized it had more to do with when the nurses remembered to hand out the fliers.”
I nodded absently. My face was flaming. I regretted my sweater and the tights and the knit layers. I was perpetually cold, so the hot feeling was new. Maybe I was sick. Great. Just what I needed.
“Tina, are you okay?” Stella leaned forward on the table. “You look a little flushed.”
A waitress passed with a tray of steaming plates. The sickening-sweet smell of peanut sauce hit me like a wave.
God, I was going to throw up.
I pressed my cool glass to my forehead. “I think I need some air,” I said.
“Let’s walk outside a second,” she said.
I stood up. “No, no, let me splash some water on my face. You wait on the food.”
Stella’s face was tight with concern as I threaded my way through the tables to the bathroom. Moving away from the heat and the smells definitely helped. I went inside the dank little room and stared at myself in the oval mirror. My face was washed out. I didn’t feel hot anymore, but clammy.
Nooo, I could not get sick right now. My mother would be even worse than she already was, doting on me. I wouldn’t get a moment’s peace.
I turned on the water and let it flow over my fingers. But this brought on a chill, making my stomach quake. I was going to have to go home at this rate. Damn it.
I pulled a wad of paper towels out of the dispenser and dried my hands. I’d have to bug out on Stella.
The smells assaulted me when I went back out into the restaurant. I could identify everything I passed. Pad Thai. Green curry. Lemongrass.
Stella was ahead of the game, dumping our orders into takeout containers. She saw me and waved me to the front door. I gratefully obeyed, pushing through and leaning against the crumbling bricks of the outside wall.
The day was bright and cold. The crisp air made me feel one hundred percent better. It cleared up so fast and so completely that I felt silly for having abandoned the meal. Maybe it was just something strong smelling that got to me. Maybe incense or somebody’s perfume. That had happened to me before.
I turned to head back in, but right then, Stella came out, holding the bag of containers. “Tina!” she exclaimed. “Poor lamb. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Something in there just got to me.”
She tilted her head, assessing me. “Fine?”
“Absolutely.” I gave her a bright smile. “We can eat this in the greenhouse, I bet. Or at your shop. You have a back room, right?” I started walking that direction.