Down the Rabbit Hole

Carolyn slapped her menu down on the table. Macy noted a flush creep into her pale cheeks and felt terrible. She understood Carolyn’s disbelief. He had seemed perfect for her. She had thought so too.

“I’m sorry,” Carolyn said. “I just don’t understand you. Surely you know that everybody has flaws.”

“Of course. But they have to match up, you know? They have to be flaws you can live with.”

“Sure, but . . .” Carolyn made a frustrated sound. “We liked him! Even your obnoxiously overprotective brother liked him. And believe me, when Lute likes someone you’re dating, things are a lot easier at our house, I can tell you.”

Macy lay the menu in her lap and smiled at her. “Then I’m sorry. I truly didn’t intend to disrupt your home life.”

Carolyn sighed. “It’s not that, and you know it. Something must have happened, because the last time I saw you, you were head over heels.”

Macy snorted, then took a sip of her water, eyes skittering away from her sister-in-law’s too-perceptive gaze.

“Hey, it was subtle but I spotted it.” Carolyn jabbed a finger into the table. “I’ve known you since you were ten, okay? And now you tell me you’ve dumped him. I have to say I’m shocked. And a little skeptical that he just wasn’t everything you wanted him to be.” This last she said in a voice intended to imitate Macy’s, but it smacked dangerously of Minnie Mouse.

“See?” Macy sat forward. “This is why I don’t like dinner parties. If I hadn’t brought him to your little shindig you’d have never known him, never liked him, and peace would reign again in the world. Instead, this little ripple in my pond has your boat rocking. But okay, we went. Did you not notice how absent he was half the time?”

“It wasn’t just our little shindig. It was Thanksgiving too.” Carolyn’s brows drew together. “What do you mean, absent? Oh, well, he did take that phone call.”

“And he spent the whole evening checking his email. He did that on Thanksgiving too, remember?”

“But he was expecting something, right? A contract or something?”

Macy waved a hand. “Whatever. What about the time Lute caught him checking Facebook?”

“He did?” Carolyn was starting to look doubtful. Then her face cleared. “Wasn’t he trying to get in touch with his niece? Or sister? Or someone like that?”

“His cousin.” She sighed heavily, giving Carolyn a helpless look. “But there was always something like that. Something he had to pick that damn thing up for—maybe something valid, maybe not—but either way, he’d look and then he’d get sucked into it and poof! He’d be gone.”

“What do you mean, he’d be gone? He leaves?”

“Mentally!” Macy picked up her water glass. The agitation was beginning again. She took a few quick swallows. “You know, I spent months feeling like it must be me. That I must be boring. So I upped the chatter, tried to engage him, felt bad about myself and why he couldn’t seem to focus on me for more than five minutes at a time. And you know what I finally realized?”

Carolyn looked at her, probably surprised by the heat in her voice. “What?”

“That I was bored. Me! Not him. For the longest time I was sure that I was the problem, that if I were smarter, prettier, more interesting, he’d put the damn phone down. But no. The problem wasn’t me, it was him. Sitting at a table watching someone look at their phone is boring. So one day I’d just had enough. See ya!” She flipped a hand and shrugged, letting her gaze slip past Carolyn so she couldn’t read the hurt in it.

Carolyn nodded. “Yeah, okay. I can see that.”

The waiter arrived and took their orders. When he was gone, Macy added, “Besides, my life coach says it’s inefficient to spend time with people you’re hoping will change, that it’s a surefire way to derail your future.”