I sighed. For a minute I didn’t answer.
I not only knew what he meant—and what Molly had meant—but she wasn’t far enough from wrong. The last night she’d seen me, I wasn’t utterly far from the place of caring he had described. Not far enough for my tastes, anyway.
“So how will you meet up with her when you get out?” I asked.
Because, despite what they both thought about me, I really, honestly cared about Molly’s welfare by that time. Maybe it had been a surprise to me, too. I just knew I was utterly haunted by not knowing where she was. By not knowing if she would be okay. By not being able to help her be okay.
I had promised I’d help her be okay.
“I won’t,” he said.
I couldn’t help noticing that he averted his eyes on that conversational note. A dose of shame, from the look of it.
“What do you mean you won’t?”
“I’m going to Kentucky when I get out.”
“And she’s not free to come along?”
“Well, I can’t really bring her.” For an uncomfortable length of time, he didn’t say why not. Then he leaned over the table. Almost conspiratorially. “It’s a relationship thing,” he said in a soft voice. As though he’d just told me a secret.
“You’re abandoning her for a relationship?”
It came out sharp. And accusing.
He sat back hard in his chair. I’d probably had no right to say it to him. How many friendships had I let drop when I’d married David? Then again, that hadn’t left any of those friends out on the street alone.
“You’re a fine one to talk!” he shot back.
“Me? What did I do?”
“Your mother threw her out of the garage.”
“Well, I’m not my mother. And I’ve put my mother out of my life over that. And I’m trying to find Molly so I can make it up to her.”
Etta, who was quite sensitive to disagreements, notably did not ask “Where Molly?” at the mention of that familiar name. She had fallen into her Quiet Girl mode.
His anger seemed to abandon him. And that abandonment left him noticeably deflated. He rubbed his eyes in a manner that hid them from my view. He was no longer sitting across the table from a person who had treated Molly as selfishly as he had. I could see the effect that was having on his mood.
“We both knew it would happen,” he said. His voice sounded mouse-tiny. He did not uncover his eyes. He had a conscience regarding the situation. He just wasn’t about to let it get in his way. “I mean, one of us was bound to meet someone.”
“And you think she knew that would be the end of your friendship?”
“She must’ve known,” he said.
He dropped the hand that had been rubbing his eyes. There’s only just so long you can pretend you need to rub your eyes. He kept his gaze averted. Looked down at the table.
“It just happened,” he said. “I didn’t know I was about to meet someone. Especially not in here. It was a total surprise. These things just happen.”
“A second ago you told me it was always inevitable and you both knew to expect it.”
“This is getting us nowhere,” he said.
I had to agree. But I agreed silently.
I rummaged around in my purse. Etta tried to help me. I tried to avoid her help. Tried to keep the purse out of her reach without being unkind. Otherwise I’d never find what I was looking for.
I had nothing to write on, so I tore a deposit slip out of my checkbook. Then I tore off the account number, because I didn’t want him to have it. I dug for a pen. Found only a pencil instead.
I wrote down the address at Caroline’s. Then the address of my new apartment. I carefully noted that the apartment address was only good after the first of the month. Which was coming up fast.
“In case you see her again,” I said.
And I slid it across the table to him.
He picked it up and stared at it for a long time. Like it might say any number of things. Like it was full of complex messages he needed time to decipher.
“Think you’ll see her again?” I asked.
“Not sure.”
His voice sounded cool. Calm and emotionally detached. I had made an enemy of him with my words. Put him on the defensive. Now I was unsure that I could count on him even to do this simple favor for Molly. Because it was also a favor for me.
“I tried to get her to promise she’d come see me one more time,” he added.
“But she wouldn’t promise?”
“No. She did.”
“But you have a reason to think she’ll break that promise?”
“Just something about the way she said it.”
“I don’t know her as well as you do. But she doesn’t seem like the sort of person who promises something if she has no intention of doing it.”
His eyes came up to mine. For the first time in a very long time. Maybe even the first time for that visit. They drilled into me. It made me distinctly ill at ease.
“Thing is,” he said, “there’s only just so many times people can break their promises to you before you start figuring everybody does it.”
That just sat on the table between us for a long time. Neither one of us seemed to want to touch it.
“Well, anyway,” I said. “If you do see her, please give her a message for me. Please tell her I need her.”
His eyes flickered up to mine again. Differently this time. As if he were chasing something that had recently eluded him.
“Wait,” he said. “Let
