“Come on, you still look gorgeous.”
Susan strode the last few feet to the corner. “Who’s gorgeous?” she asked, out of breath.
“Marguerite is, but she thinks she needs a new hairdo. Or was that a face-lift?” Erika loved to kid around.
“Very funny. Be serious.” I dragged off my cap to expose a mass of mousy hair in need of washing. “I admit I’m shallow, but please tell me the truth. Do I look as much like a schoolmarm as I think I do?”
“No, you look as good as you did on the day we met,” Susan said.
What a kind thing to say—I didn’t buy it. “Then how come I haven’t been out on a date for months?” I’d settled into a rut of renting videos on Friday nights, eating dinner in front of the TV, then turning in early.
“I told you, Bob has that friend at work,” Susan reminded me. “We could double date, or I’ll give him your number. His name’s Tim O’Brien. You’ll really like him. Such a nice guy, dependable and hardworking.”
Susan hadn’t mentioned the man’s appearance, meaning he was probably so-so, at best. I envisioned her sweet but homely husband, Bob. Was his friend a cookie-cutter version of him? As I ground my toe into the cement I reminded myself that being dependable and hardworking was more important than good looks and charm. And didn’t I like nice guys? Still, I’d sworn never to subject myself to another night of torture on a blind date.
“Susan, I don’t know—” I was saved from further discussion by Laurie’s appearance. She wore body-hugging running tights and a red sweatshirt with the words “I’d rather be at the mall” written across the front.
“Hi, everyone,” she said. “Let’s get rolling.”
I gave Charlie a yank to keep him from running across the tops of Laurie’s white sneakers. Since last night she and Dave must have made up, I thought. She looked on top of the world. I’d called her the night before saying, “We didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation.”
Her voice had become muffled. “I can’t talk now, I’m busy.”
“Just promise me you won’t do anything hasty. I’ve made mistakes in my life, and I still live with that guilt.”
“You married the wrong guy,” she’d said in a hissing whisper. “And you had the sense to move on. What’s to feel guilty about?”
I’d felt like gushing out the real story, but I controlled my tongue. “Believe me, you can never erase your mistakes.”
Susan and Erika started toward the lake, and Laurie and I fell in behind. The air felt cold, dry, and delicious. Smoke from a chimney drifted in the blue sky, and I could detect the aroma of burning cedar. Crisp leaves dotted the sidewalk. Dahlias still bloomed, but the hydrangeas had shriveled. Up ahead I saw Green Lake cloaked in white fog, as if someone had tossed a cotton blanket over the water’s surface.
Susan spoke over her shoulder to me. “I’m not going to let you escape that easily,” she said. “What movie do you want to see? Or maybe a nice dinner would be better, so you two could talk more.”
“Blind dates never work out.” I could list a half-dozen horror stories to prove my point, the worst being the evening I spent with a man I later described as The Groper.
“Not true. I know several happy couples who met on blind dates,” Laurie said with authority. “I introduced Lorelle and Nathan. Gave Nathan her number, and he did the rest.”
“It’s the best way to meet men these days,” Erika agreed. “I was lucky to meet Jonathan at the hospital. Most women don’t work around eligible men all day.”
“What have you got to lose?” Susan asked.
“I’ll think about it. But don’t give him my number yet.” I wondered if my friends really had a clue what kind of a mate I needed. I loved them, but they didn’t understand what I was going through. They all had happy, complete lives, with husbands who were their best friends.
As the day brightened, the pathway around the lake began to brim with activity. Three children coasted by on pint-sized bikes, followed lazily by one of their fathers. He was maybe five years younger than I, and robustly handsome. His gaze flashed right past me, without pausing even for an instant. I didn’t usually inspect each man on the path, but that day I did. Few bothered to look back. Maybe Henry wasn’t the only one to find me invisible.
“You’re not getting out of this,” Susan told me as we hugged good-bye. “I’m going to bug you until you cave in.”
“Let me get back to you.” That line always seemed to work for my clients.
When I got home, I dove into the refrigerator to find it bare, except for a clump of shriveled lettuce, a carton of iffy milk, and a Styrofoam container of leftover teriyaki chicken. With Rob gone, I hadn’t felt like cooking. But I knew if I kept eating take-out food every day, I would inflate into a blimp. I’d already put on several pounds since he left.
Not bothering to change clothes, I drove to the grocery store. As I steered my cart down the bread aisle, I spied an older woman with a familiar face.
“Hello, Emily,” I said. “Do you remember me from art class?”
“Of course I do, dear. Nice to see you.”
“Good morning, Mrs. McBride,” an employee said as he walked by with a box of celery in his arms. Emily greeted Sam in return, then asked if he’d recovered from the flu.
“I’m feeling better, thanks,” he said.
I flung a loaf of French bread into my shopping cart, then followed Emily as she moved to the produce section, where she paused to examine the tomatoes. My style was to grab whatever vegetables caught my eye, without paying much attention to their color or firmness. I usually shopped for
