She had sandwiched the note that said
Brenda wasn’t sure why she was keeping the note. She couldn’t think about John Walsh and Fleming Trainor at the same time; that much had already been proven.
“Are we getting a Coke?” Blaine asked. “Real y, are we?”
“Real y we are.” If this was what it took, this was what it took, Brenda thought. It wasn’t like she was offering the kids cigarettes, or shots of Jagermeister. She filched five quarters out of Vicki’s bag and let Blaine careful y slip them into the slot, but she couldn’t find any more change, and the smal est bil in Vicki’s wal et was a twenty. Porter babbled. “Ba ba ba, da da da.” The nonsense a person said before the real nonsense began.
“Wouldn’t you know,” Brenda said. “We need more money.”
Blaine, panic-stricken, looked at Brenda as they walked back to the admitting desk. “What about the Coke?” he said.
“We need more money,” Brenda said, and Blaine started to cry. Hearing Blaine cry made Porter start up again in louder tones. “Boys,” Brenda said. “Please. Just wait a second.” Was it any surprise that Nantucket had the world’s most expensive soda machine? She would have to break a twenty for one lousy quarter, but that made perfect sense. That was how her day was going.
And of course Didi, at the admitting desk, was now deep in conversation with someone else, a guy her age. Brenda tried to wave the twenty over the guy’s shoulder. Didi would hear the kids crying, she would sense urgency. But no—Didi was oblivious, she was completely focused on this other person, who was wearing a hunter green polo shirt and khaki shorts and grass-stained Adidas sneakers. He had a fresh haircut; there were short hair trimmings al over the back of his shirt. He was holding on to one end of a white envelope, and Didi held on to the other end, looking like she might cry.
“This is it,” Haircut Guy said. “And I want it back!”
“I know,” Didi said.
“By the first of July. Not the second. Not the fourth. The first.”
“Righty-o.”
“With interest.”
“What about Friday?” Didi said.
“What
“Zach’s party.”
“Are you going?” Haircut Guy said.
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m staying home.”
“Excuse me,” Brenda said, waving the twenty in the air. It was rude to interrupt, but Brenda couldn’t stand around with two screaming kids while Didi and her friend discussed some kegger. “I need change. For the soda machine.”
Didi wiped a finger under one eye. Her chest heaved. “I don’t have any change,” she snapped. “If you want change you’l have to go upstairs to the cafeteria.”
Didi snatched the envelope from her friend’s grasp. “No,” she said. “I don’t.”
Haircut Guy turned around. In his outstretched hand was a quarter. “Here,” he said. Then he looked at Brenda. “Hey,” he said. “It’s you.”
Brenda stared at his face for a second. She knew this person, but how? Who was it? One thing was for certain: She had never been so happy to see twenty-five cents in al her life.
Josh walked with Brenda and the kids to the Coke machine even though he heard Didi making noises back at the admitting desk. Blaine held the quarter and Josh lifted him up so that he could feed the machine, then push the button—and they were al silent as the Coke tumbled down the shoot. Even the baby was quiet. Josh took the Coke from the machine. “Shal I do the honors?”
“You’re the guy from the airport,” Brenda said. “The one who brought me my book. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. You got a haircut.”
She looked so astonished that Josh felt embarrassed. He cracked open the can. “Yep,” he said. “I’m Josh.”
“I’m Brenda Lyndon.”
“I know,” he said. “I remember. Dr. Lyndon.”
“I’m not a
“Chemo?” Josh said.
“She has lung cancer,” Brenda whispered.
“You’re kidding,” Josh said. But what did he remember about the other sister? Her heavy breathing. “Oh, man.”
Brenda shook her head, then made a motion over the kids’ heads. Blaine said, “Coke! Coke!”
Josh knelt down and helped Blaine with the Coke. Lung cancer? Pregnant?
