“I heard you were back! You should’ve called me!” She hugged me tight, disregarding the fact that sweaty people shouldn’t hug. She swayed from side to side as if she didn’t want to let go. I hugged her back. I could shower off the sweat later.
“It’s so good to see you,” I said as I pulled back.
“It’s amazing!” Josie hugged me again.
She looked the same as she had six years ago, and the same as she did in every online photo. Josie had one world too. Josie’s World.
Her bright white teeth shone through an uncomplicated smile. Josie was trim, but curvy, with big boobs and long, dark blond hair. She always looked good, which would have been annoying had it been anyone but Josie. She may have looked like one of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, but her big heart was all Chance, Ohio. You didn’t see that in those photos but I remembered that now.
“You look great,” I said.
“Have to stay fit. But obviously I don’t have to tell you that. You look amazing, Teddi.”
I shifted my gaze from Josie’s glowing face and looked down the street, as if my finish line was in sight.
“What do you think?” Josie asked.
“Of?”
“Of Chance. It’s changed, hasn’t it?”
“It sure has. I can’t believe how many people were out and about. And a coffee shop? And a trendy café.”
“No more Manny’s Luncheonette,” Josie said.
“It’s kind of sad.”
“Really? I don’t think it’s sad. Why would you think it’s sad?”
“I don’t know. It’s just different.”
“The outside is different. Not the inside.” Josie stopped bouncing and placed her hands on her hips. “We’re attracting a lot of young families because of all the development in the county. The mall, the rec center, the pool. And the whole park around the pond has been redone.”
“I read about that.”
“I guess you know about Miles. What am I saying? Of course you know.”
I grinned with my lips closed. That was my I-have-no-idea-what-to-say grin.
“Oh!” Josie yelled, and bounced faster.
“What?” I yelled too, and swiveled my head from side to side. Who did she see? What was the matter? Josie had always been a well-meaning alarmist.
“You have to come for book club at my house tonight. All the girls will be there!”
“Oh, that’s so sweet but … I haven’t read the book.” It was the best excuse I could think of on the spot.
“Oh, none of us reads the book, silly. Well, maybe some of us. But that’s not the point. The point is to have a set time to get together. It’s more of an excuse than anything else. You’d be surprised how easy it is to lose touch with someone who’s just around the corner.” Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. “C’mon, it’s just the girls. Casual. Good food. Better wine.” Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
“I can’t impose.”
“You’re not imposing—you’re invited. Come at seven. Once everyone knows you’re back they’ll want to see you.”
All of a sudden six years didn’t seem like enough time to get ready. “Tonight at seven. Got it. I’ll definitely try.” My voice shook.
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
I didn’t think she would.
I held my camera away from my chest. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later. I’m just off to take some pictures.”
“Of course you are. Think of that! The same photographer Gretchen Halliday had for her wedding is taking pictures of our town. Could I come along? What are you taking pictures of while you’re here? Besides the wedding, I mean? Are you scouting locations for a new hotel? For a destination wedding? I won’t tell a soul, I promise. Maybe I could help.”
“No, nothing like that. I just … it’s just what I do.”
I hated people watching me while I worked. Civilians always chimed in with “helpful hints.” Don’t you think you should move a little to the left? You’ll see better from here. Or they tried to see what I was looking at by nearly resting their chins on my shoulder for perspective. I wish I had your eye. I wished they’d take their chins off my shoulder. Take a picture of this, of her, of him, of me!
One minute I wanted to be a townie again, and the next I missed being on my own at a hotel, where I could nod and smile and keep on going to the beach or a deck or a pool, unencumbered by expectations, and unaware of exclusions. I’d been on my own for six years, without too many personal demands. Perhaps I’d forgotten how to be part of something.
Josie glanced at her Fitbit. “Got to fly!”
“I don’t really…”
Josie held up one finger and I stopped talking, as directed. “Later, okay? We’ll be expecting you tonight. It’s casual, come as you are. You’re welcome to bring your camera, of course.” Josie winked. “Have to finish my run before the kids wake up. Although teenagers could sleep all day. Welcome home, Teddi. You were missed.”
Josie didn’t wait for a response. She waved, pivoted, and her bounce turned into a run.
I headed in the opposite direction from Josie and from Lark Street. That’s when I realized I was running too.
*
West End Cemetery was at the west end of Chance. The town’s founders had been nothing if not literal.
I paced back and forth in front of the closed iron gates. Then I walked to the far corner, toward the residential streets, and back to the cemetery gate. I shuffled my feet and looked down the street as if waiting for a ride, my heart pounding harder than it should have been for the walk/run I’d taken to get there. I exhaled to slow my pulse, then sipped lukewarm water from the bottle I’d bought at the Fat Chance Café.
“Tomorrow would probably be a better day,” I said aloud to no one. “Cee wouldn’t care either way.”
I remembered Celia every day, but in third person. She would have liked, loved, or hated. (Although Celia didn’t hate.) I never thought of her as or said “you.” Maybe that was my problem. Maybe well-adjusted people fashioned invisible companions from their dead loved ones, talked to them aloud, set a place at the table, continued where they left off, at least inside their own minds. I saw my and Celia’s friendship like a movie that ran on a loop and watched it as if I were an observer. Today, Celia would have been glad I was here at the cemetery, but only because I hadn’t been coerced, because it was my idea. She never would have begrudged my absence; guilt wasn’t her MO.
It was mine.
Without leaving the comfort of the sidewalk, I could see that the grass in the cemetery was audaciously green. Stones, pebble sized to golf ball sized, were layered atop the headstones and placed sporadically on the ground. Jews didn’t leave flowers. Flowers died. Stones remained. Like memories.
I didn’t subscribe to all the customs of my religion, but this one was dead on.
I chuckled and covered my mouth even though no one was around to hear me. Celia would have laughed too.
I felt the stone from my pocket, its ancient water-worn curves, smooth and cool. I’d chosen it with care more than five years before and carried it with me everywhere.
I was going to do it. I was counting to ten, and then going in.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four …
I reached the gate.