“Ever consider it’s none of your business?” I said, my parting shot.
“Are you telling me you don’t remember Patch?” she blurted.
As soon as his name fell from Marcie’s lips, the same haunting shade of black eclipsed my vision. It vanished as quickly as it came, but left an impression. Hot, unaccountable emotion. Like an unexpected slap to the face. I momentarily lost the ability to draw breath. The sting radiated all the way to the bone. I
“What did you say?” I asked slowly, turning back.
“You heard me.” Her eyes studied mine. “Patch.”
I tried but failed to keep a blush of bewilderment and uncertainty from trickling into my expression.
“Well, well,” Marcie said, not looking as pleased as I would have expected for catching me stripped and defenseless.
I knew I should walk out, but that elusive flare of recognition caused me to hold my place. Maybe, if I kept talking to Marcie, it would return. Maybe this time it would hang around long enough for me to make something of it. “Are you going to stand there and ‘well, well’ me, or are you going to give me a hint?”
“Patch gave you something earlier in the summer,” she said without preamble. “Something that belongs to me.”
“Who’s Patch?” I managed at last. The question seemed redundant, but I wasn’t about to let Marcie race on ahead until I was caught up — at least as much as I could be. Five months was a lot of ground to cover in a quick trip to the bathroom.
“A guy I dated. A summer fling.”
Another potent stirring within that felt eerily close to jealousy, but I shoved the impression away. Marcie and I would never be interested in the same guy. Attributes she valued, such as shallow, unintelligent, and egotistical, didn’t pique my interest.
“What did he give me?” I knew I was missing a lot, but it was a
“A necklace.”
Savoring the fact that for once I didn’t have to play defense, I gave her a gold-medal smirk. “Why, Marcie, I could have sworn giving another girl jewelry is a sign that your boyfriend is a cheat.”
She tilted her head back and laughed so convincingly, I felt that same uneasiness settle back into my gut. “I can’t decide if it’s sad that you’re so completely in the dark, or funny.”
I folded my arms across my chest, aiming for a subtle show of annoyance and impatience, but the truth was, I was cold on the inside. A cold that didn’t have to do with temperature. I was never going to escape this. I had a quick and terrible feeling that my run-in with Marcie was only the beginning, a subtle foreshadowing of what lay ahead. “I don’t have the necklace.”
“You
I took the paper, but I wasn’t going to be bought that easily. “Why didn’t he just give you the necklace himself?”
“We were both friends with Patch.” At my look of deep skepticism, she added, “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”
“I don’t have the necklace,” I repeated with finality.
“You have it, and I want it back.”
“Sooner rather than later would be nice.”
“My offer, take it or leave it.”
She flapped her arms. “Why do you have a stick up your derriere?”
I kept my smile pleasant, my way of giving her the finger. “I might not be able to remember the last five months, but the sixteen years before that are crystal clear. Including the eleven we’ve known each other.”
“So this is about a grudge. Very mature.”
“This is a matter of principle. I don’t trust you, because you’ve never given me a reason to. If you want me to believe you, you’re going to have to show me why I should.”
“You’re such an idiot.
“I came to one of your parties?” I was instantly skeptical. But why would she lie? She was right — I could ask around. It seemed foolish to make such a claim when the truth was so easy to prove.
Apparently reading my thoughts, she said, “Don’t take my word for it. Really. Call around and see for yourself.” Then she pushed the strap of her purse up onto her shoulder and sashayed out.
I hung behind a few moments, gathering my cool. I had one equally bewildering and aggravating idea bouncing around in my head. Was there any possible way Marcie was telling the truth? Had her boyfriend — Patch? — cracked years’ worth of accumulated ice between us and brought us together? The idea was almost laughable. The phrase
And if Patch was both her summer fling and our mutual friend, where was he now?
Leaving the restroom, I noticed Marcie and her mother were nowhere in sight. I assumed they’d asked to be reseated, or made a statement to Hank by leaving altogether. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.
As our table came into view, my stride slowed. Hank and my mom were holding hands across the table and gazing into each other’s eyes in a deeply private way. He reached out to tuck a runaway strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed with pleasure.
I backed away without realizing it. I was going to be sick. The biggest cliche, but painfully accurate. So much for dousing Hank with his wine. So much for morphing into a diva of epic proportions.
Changing course, I ran for the front doors. I asked the hostess to relay the message to my mom that I’d called Vee for a ride, then hurried into the night.
I swallowed several deep breaths. My blood pressure stabilized, and I stopped seeing double. A few stars glinted overhead, even though the western horizon still glowed from the recent sunset. It was just cool enough to make me wish I was wearing an extra layer, but in my rush to leave, I’d left my jean jacket hanging on the back of my chair. I wasn’t going back for it now. I was more tempted to go back for my cell, but if I’d survived the past three months without one, I was pretty sure I could handle one more night.
There was a 7-Eleven a handful of blocks away, and while I considered the possibility that it wasn’t wise to be out alone at night, I also knew that I couldn’t spend the rest of my life cowering in fear. If shark attack victims could get back in the ocean again, surely I could walk a few blocks by myself. I was in a very safe, well-lit part of town. If I wanted to force myself to break through my fear, I couldn’t have selected a better location.
Six blocks later I entered the 7-Eleven, the door chiming as I did. I was so caught up in my own thoughts, it took me a few beats to figure out that something was wrong. The store was eerily quiet. But I knew I wasn’t alone; I’d seen heads through the plate-glass window as I’d crossed the parking lot. Four guys, from what I’d been able to tell. But they’d all vanished, and fast. Even the front counter was left unattended. I couldn’t remember
“Hello?” I called out. I walked along the front of the store, glancing down the aisles, which stocked everything from Fig Newtons to Dramamine. “Is anyone here? I need to make change for the pay phone.”
A muffled sound came from the hallway at the rear. It was unlit, presumably leading to the restrooms. I strained to hear the sound again. Given all the false alarms lately, I was afraid this was the beginning of another hallucination.
Then I heard a second sound. The faint squeak of a door closing. I was pretty sure this sound was real, which