“Is he uncomfortable more than he’s comfortable?”
Even if Charlie got treated, and even if the tumor shrank from the treatments, it would come back; it would spread like the tentacles of a sea creature until it had invaded not just his left occipital lobe but everywhere. They did, in the brain, with this kind of cancer. They always did.
Eliza straightened her legs and leaned her hands on the edge of the countertop. She could no longer see the vegetables clearly; her eyes were filling up. She cleared her throat and said, “Have you ever considered being an attorney, Evie?”
Evie sniffed suspiciously. “What’s an attorney?”
Eliza regained the knife, picked up a red pepper, and wiped her eyes with her arm. “A lawyer. Somebody who argues cases in court, before a judge and a jury.”
“Oh,” said Evie, offhandedly. “No, no, I don’t think I want to be that. I want to be an actress. Or maybe a dog scientist. I didn’t know that was a thing until now.”
Another carrot, and she sauntered off.
“I think…,” said Eliza weakly. “I think I might just have a glass of whatever you’re having, Judith. If you don’t mind pouring me one.”
15
LITTLE HARBOR, MAINE
Mary
Mary had entered her dates into a website that told her all about her baby’s development. At nine weeks, it was the size of a grape, with tiny earlobes and nostrils. A grape! So tiny. Although of course grapes could be many different sizes. She chose a medium one to put in her mind’s eye.
The salon was closed on the Fourth of July. But the day before had been very busy, everybody squeezing in their waxes and highlights before the holiday, and Vivienne was looking forward to sleeping in, getting her “beauty rest.” She’d asked Mary to be quiet when she left the house to go to The Cup, which would close early to observe the holiday but was still open from seven to five. The Fourth was a big sailing day for people out on the Point and was expected to be a good day for business. People started drinking early, and when they drank early they got hungry early. Or they requested Andi’s special picnic baskets to take out on their boats. Or they needed a midday pick-me-up latte to make it all the way to the fireworks. Or all of the above.
Later, after dark, some of the guys would set off fireworks from a lobster boat out in the harbor. Everybody would watch, residents and summer people alike. Aside from the Lobster Festival in August and Trap Day in April it was the closest the town came to a big event.
Mary was in the far corner, wiping off table twelve, when she heard Andi say, “Hi, Vivienne!” in a surprised and cheerful voice. “Looking beautiful, darling.” Mary looked at the clock; it was only eight forty-five. Not good. Vivienne was supposed to be sleeping. Mary pretended she hadn’t heard Andi and kept her head down, wiping, though there was nothing to wipe anymore.
It didn’t take Vivienne long to find her near table twelve—the café wasn’t very big, and there was nowhere to hide. “Your friend woke me up,” Vivienne said. She pulled out a chair and slouched into it. She did look like she’d just woken up: no makeup, hair in a messy bun—the at-home Vivienne, not the salon Vivienne. Not even close to the salon Vivienne. Actually, the at-home Vivienne was in some ways prettier than the salon Vivienne, though Mary would never dare say that, because that was not something the salon Vivienne wanted to hear.
“My friend?” Mary was genuinely perplexed. Did she have any friends?
“Alyssa Michaud, the little twat who stole your boyfriend.”
Mary winced. “It wasn’t—oh, never mind.” Tyler Wasson was so far in the rearview mirror it really didn’t matter what Vivienne thought about that.
Vivienne unleashed the bun, shook her hair out, and then re-bunned it all. This happened so quickly that Mary wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. “Said she’d been trying to call you but you never called her back. Said she was worried about you.” Vivienne went super light on the pronouns when she was tired or annoyed.
“Huh.” Mary feigned confusion and threw a glance toward the counter to see if anyone could save her. “That’s weird. I wonder why she’d be worried. I never even see her anymore. She’s going to college soon and—”
The door swung open and three customers entered: now she could feel Andi and Daphne send her signals but Vivienne said, “Sit,” so Mary sat. Andi and Daphne, for whatever reason, liked Vivienne enough (“a real character!”) that Mary hoped they’d forgive her the transgression of taking a seat at table twelve when she should be behind the counter. She’d work extra hard the rest of the day to make up for it. She’d clean the bathroom, even though it wasn’t her turn. Andi and Daphne were very fair about the bathroom cleaning, they’d drawn up a schedule and taped it next to the mirror, and they all rotated days, though if Mary was being honest she’d have to say that Daphne always missed the water spots on the faucet and Andi sometimes forgot to empty the wastebasket bin.
After the incident outside Jordan’s, Mary had ignored Alyssa’s four texts and two voice mails. They all said variations on the same thing: OMG. I NEED TO KNOW THAT YOU’RE OK, MARE. THAT WAS SO WEIRD, HOW U JUST PASSSED OUT LIKE THAT. ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OK? CALL ME, OK?
Mare. That had been what Alyssa had called her in sixth grade.
Finally, to stop the messages, she had texted back, I’M OK THANKS. She was, she was okay! She was fine, it was a fluke, having to do with being too hungry and too warm and too pregnant (she didn’t tell anyone the last part). That’s what she’d said to the semicircle of friendly and concerned faces that were surrounding her when she came to. “No, please don’t call an ambulance, really, please, I’m fine. I just need a little something to eat…” A kind grandmotherly lady with a southern accent had helped her put her head between her knees until she was ready to stand fully, and then she hadn’t even had to wait in line or pay for her root beer float. “On the house,” said the guy who brought it over. She’d picked gravel out of her hair for the rest of the day, but she was fine.
“Well, I know why!” said Vivienne now. “She said she’s been trying to get in touch with you. She said you passed out cold outside Jordan’s, in line for a root beer float or something. Last week! Last week, and you didn’t tell me?”
Mary tried to make her face smooth and immobile like a mask.
“Mary? Mary.” Vivienne’s voice was pleading now. Vivienne never pleaded with her, about anything. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
Mary shrugged the tiniest shrug she could manage: an infant shrug.