(Friendship doesn’t get any sweeter than this.)
The price of baked goods led them straight to national current events, i.e., the stock market, which was Graham’s favorite part of the conversation. He and Doug discussed the Beige Book and the FOMC and Chipotle stock performance until Audra began making impatient sounds through her nose.
And then, as always, just as they finished the meal, they talked about world current events. Conversationally, it was just like the zoom-out feature on Google Maps and no less satisfying. The waiter brought the check (none of them liked to stay for coffee; it was one of their compatibilities), and afterward they walked back home and said goodbye in the lobby.
“I might not see you again before you leave,” Graham said. “So let me say goodbye now.”
He shook hands with Doug, and then he turned to hug Lorelei.
Lorelei had intensely green eyes, and Audra had a raincoat of exactly the same shade of green, and sometimes when Audra wore that coat and stood next to Lorelei, Graham felt a strange sense of doubling, as though Lorelei were wearing the wrong coat or Audra had the wrong eyes.
And now, as Lorelei hugged him, he felt the same sort of doubling—it seemed he was hugging Audra goodbye. He held Lorelei against him briefly, inhaling the scent of the patchouli oil she wore in place of perfume, and feeling the soft roughness of her hair against his chin. His thoughts were jumbled and he could only think, You and I share the heart of my one true love.
But maybe that was just the wine, because by morning, Graham felt like himself again.
—
This was Graham’s favorite slice of the day: that hour when Matthew had done his homework, and dinner was cooking, and the dishwasher was chugging, and the sunbeams came through the kitchen window like dusty gold searchlights. If you made a pie chart of the day, Graham would color this wedge that same shade of gold.
He didn’t always get to enjoy this hour. Sometimes Matthew got frustrated with his homework, and there were tears, or Graham and Audra had to attend some awful school function. Or he was late, or Audra was. It was all so precarious! But tonight it had worked. Matthew had done his homework relatively cheerfully and with minimal assistance from Audra. (Elsewhere in the world, parents said, Hey you, go do your homework, and the kid said, Yeah, okay, and went and did it in his room. Graham hoped to reach this stage by the time Matthew was maybe thirty.) Beef Stroganoff was simmering on the stove, Audra was working on her laptop at the kitchen table, and Graham was drinking a glass of merlot as soft and red as a rose petal. Why, then, did he feel so sad?
“I’m beginning to believe,” he said to Audra. “That there is just too much love loose in the world. Too much love with nowhere to go.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Audra said, looking at him over the lid of her laptop. “Is it because of that man in the Japanese restaurant?”
“What man in the Japanese restaurant?” Graham asked.
(And no—it was because their son was brokenhearted, because their friends were moving, because his mother was alone in her old age, because the world was falling apart. Man in a restaurant?)
“You remember,” Audra said. “We were having sushi last week and this old man at the table next to us tried to tell the waitress about how he visited Tokyo once and she was like ‘I don’t have time to listen to this!’?” She frowned. “Was I with you or was I with Lorelei?”
“It wasn’t me,” Graham said.
“No, I think it was you,” Audra said, nodding slowly to herself. “In fact, I’m sure of it, because I wanted to invite the old man to sit with us and tell us about his trip to Tokyo, and you wouldn’t let me. You said you didn’t want to hear about it any more than the waitress did, and at least she was getting a tip. And I said, ‘It’s not about us wanting to hear, it’s about him wanting to tell,’ and you said that was exactly your point.”
That did sound like something he would say. Graham had no memory of this, but he was secretly proud of himself for not having let the old man sit with them.
Audra continued, “And I felt so bad for the rest of lunch that I couldn’t even look at him! I made you change places with me, remember? And you were all like ‘No problem! I can look at him without feeling a morsel of pity!’ And now you tell me that he’s up and changed your whole view of the world!”
“Well,” Graham said. “I don’t know—”
“And it’s really not all that helpful a worldview,” Audra said. “It’s like suddenly telling me, I don’t know what. That you think there’s too much boiled wool in the world. What can we do about it? I mean, I could throw away all my vintage peacoats and a couple of sweaters, and as a family, we could stop wearing boiled wool, but that wouldn’t have much effect. And it’s the same with this unrequited love business. We could start having weekly dinners where we invite the most unloved people we know, like Manny and, well, there’s this very nice woman at the deli—”
“I don’t want to have weekly dinners with unloved people,” Graham said firmly.
“What about a happy hour?” Audra asked. “Maybe not weekly, but monthly—”
“No.”
“Well, okay, but even if we did do something for the unloved people we know,” Audra said, “it wouldn’t solve the problem. Love would still be out there, roaming all over the place.”
“Yes,” Graham said. “That’s my point.”
“But I don’t think it’s much of a point,” Audra said. “It’s like when Matthew found out that the actors who played C-3PO and R2-D2 in Star Wars can’t stand each other in real life. It’s just sort of extraneous upsetting information.”
She gave him a dark look and went back to her laptop.
—
The Origami Club wanted to come over and talk about what went wrong. It looked like it was going to be one of those bad, complicated breakups.
But was there any such thing as a good breakup? Graham wondered. A good, uncomplicated, friendly breakup? Had there ever been a time in the history of relationships where a couple sat down to eat breakfast and one of them said, You know, I think we should split up, and the other person said, I agree! It’s like you read my mind! and the first person said, What about our season theater tickets, though? And the second person said, I’ll go and take your mother with me—I’ve always been so fond of her, and the first person said, I’m hoping your mother will give me her watermelon pickle recipe.
I’m sure she’d be delighted. What worries me is our trip to France.
Oh, that’s no problem. I bought trip insurance.
I think one of us should keep the apartment since we just had those expensive curtains made for the den.
Well, you stay and I’ll find my own place.
Really? Then, I insist on paying you three percent above fair market value for your half—
“Graham!” Audra said. “Stop daydreaming! They’ll be here any minute.”