But one day in mid-January, in the bathroom after lunch, the silence was unexpectedly broken.
I’d just turned on the faucet to wash my hands when the door opened. I didn’t bother looking to see who’d just come in. The bathrooms weren’t lit real well, and in the weak yellow light, even people’s hair, the easiest feature for me to see, didn’t look very distinct. But the minute I heard her voice, I knew it was Christy.
“I covered for you on New Year’s.”
I was so surprised that I jumped, splashing a little water on my shirt. And then Christy was next to me, checking her hair in the mirror.
“Your mama called. Said she figured you wouldn’t have reception so it was easier to call my house. Luckily, it was just me and Andrew, so I told her you were in the bathroom. She was very happy you and I worked things out.”
I couldn’t quite figure out the tone in her voice. She didn’t sound mean or threatening, or even passive-aggressive. She didn’t sound like anything, really.
“Oh. Um …” I pumped the soap into my hands. “Sorry about that. And … thank you.”
“No problem.” She was quieter than I remembered. “So … Andrew and I are officially engaged. He gave me the ring on Christmas.” She holds up her hand, and I smile, even though I could never see something as small as an engagement ring.
“That’s great, Christy. Congratulations.”
“Thanks … I almost called you. When he did it. For some reason I really wanted to tell you, but …” She trailed off, cleared her throat, then turned on her own faucet. “Anyway. We’re not gonna get married for a while. Maybe summer after next.”
It was so surreal, after our fight back in the fall, to be standing with Christy, having a quiet, friendly conversation. After a month or two of her ignoring me, I’d eventually realized Christy and me weren’t friends anymore. It sounds silly, but I guess I’d assumed we’d eventually work it out. Not that we’d ever be the way we had been before, but … I hadn’t realized it was over until it had been over for a while.
I never really thought we’d talk again after all this time. And certainly didn’t think she would be showing me her ring and covering for me when Mama called to check in.
Which was a whole other problem. I’d honestly thought I was safe on New Year’s Eve. That telling a simple lie would be enough. Clearly, I was underestimating how close an eye my parents wanted to keep on me. I didn’t even think that was possible.
I rinsed my hands and turned off the water. I was halfway to the paper towel dispenser when I couldn’t hold it in anymore and had to spin around and ask, “Why did you lie for me?”
Christy sighed and shut off her own faucet. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I just … Your parents have always been so overprotective. It used to drive me crazy. And it drove me crazy even more because you wouldn’t do anything about it. I guess I was kinda proud of you for breaking the rules.”
I almost pointed out the irony of that. The big fight we had was about sin, and here she was saying she was proud of me for disobeying my parents. But we’d done so well being friendly, and I didn’t wanna fight with her again. So I just nodded and said, “Well, thank you.”
“But …” She hesitated. “Look, I know I’m the last person you probably care to listen to right now. It’s just … I’m glad you’re fighting their rules because they’re ridiculous sometimes, but lying to them won’t change a thing.”
“Christy …”
“I’m not always gonna be there to answer the phone when they call,” she said. “You gotta talk to them, Agnes.”
I groaned. “Yeah. Bo says the same thing.”
“Wow. Never thought I’d agree with Bo Dickinson on anything.” And I heard that touch of meanness in her voice again, that old Christy was all too familiar. But then she let out a breath and said, “You just got to stand up to them, Agnes. The way you stood up to me.”
I didn’t have a clue what to say to that. I didn’t know if I was supposed to say anything. Luckily, the bell rang and gave me an excuse to keep quiet.
I dried my hands and tossed the paper towel in the trash. “Bye,” I said over my shoulder as I moved toward the door.
“Bye,” she replied. And then, just as the door was shutting, I heard her say one last thing. It wasn’t an apology for the things she’d said about Bo. Or for the way she’d treated me like a burden. I doubted I’d ever get that from her. But I did get something. Three quiet words I almost didn’t hear.
“I miss you.”
And, for me, that was enough.
It was February before I saw or heard from Colt again.