“Gee, you don’t have to get so huffy. I’m entitled to my opinion, aren’t I?”
I recalled our recent debates about her marriage. I’d been doling out a ration of unasked-for advice; the least I could do was not get defensive. “Yes, of course,” I said. “Sorry if I’ve been a grouch.”
I handed the ticket to the attendant and exited the garage. The rain had turned to drizzle, and the streets stretched wide and empty. Through the mist the streetlights glowed like white Chinese lanterns.
“Did I tell you I’m starting tae kwon do?” Laurie asked. “That’s why I didn’t make it to Henry’s studio the other day. We wear these darling black outfits and go barefoot. It’s a blast. Maybe you’d like to take it with me?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m so uncoordinated, I’d hurt myself.” I chuckled as I remembered my last attempt at doing the splits. Several years earlier I endured one yoga class and my limbs were so stiff the next day I could barely walk. Now that I thought about it, Laurie had talked me into that, too.
“It’s a combination of martial arts and self-defense.” She sounded like a flitting sparrow. “Most women can’t defend themselves. They’re powerless.” She rested her elbow on my seat back. “The head instructor is a character. She’s tiny, but you sure wouldn’t want to mess with her.”
I watched the wiper swish lazily across the windshield, then pause. Tiny dots of moisture appeared on the glass, then were swept away as the blade crossed back to the other side.
“Give it a try,” she said. “You can be my guest for one free class. Erika and Susan already said no. It seems like only my single friends can ever do anything.” Her voice turned cranky. “Dave likes me to do stuff like this. That way he doesn’t feel guilty for working all the time. Anyway, I should be able to defend myself. How about it?”
“Think I’ll pass on this one. Aren’t you continuing with the drawing class next session?”
“Nah. I love it, but I want to try other hobbies. You’re the artist. I hope you keep it up.”
“I might try a class somewhere else.” There was no way I’d walk into Henry Marsh’s classroom alone. “I do like Emily though. Wouldn’t it be great to be like her when we’re her age? She seems so content.”
“Unlike me who hates growing old.” She fluffed her hair. “You should see my real color under all this frost. There’s so much gray it’s frightening. Maybe you should visit my colorist too. She can work miracles.”
“What for? My hair isn’t gray.”
“Oh, yeah?” She pointed to a loose lock from my temple.
At the next red light, I flipped down the visor mirror to peer at myself in the dim light and noticed several colorless strands. “When did that happen? Maybe I need glasses, too.”
The light flicked green, and I folded up the visor and drove forward. “Better give me her number. I don’t want Tim thinking he’s dating an old lady.” I hadn’t mentioned my age to him.
“Henry strikes me as a man who’d find a little silver hair attractive,” she said. “He’d probably admire a woman who’s at ease with aging.” She bubbled with laughter. “Doesn’t he strike you that way?”
I gave in and laughed too. It felt good to have the tension between us eased. “Believe me, you’ll like Tim better.”
When I got home, the light on the answering machine was flashing. I rushed past Charlie to listen to Rob’s recorded voice say he was doing fine and would call back in a few days. I replayed the short message, listening for clues to his mood and imagining the tidbits he might have shared with me. Over the years our conversations had shrunk. And after Andrea’s arrival, our communications diminished to a quick hello as we passed each other in the morning. Now, a recorded voice was precious.
The corners of my mouth sagged down. “Phooey,” I grumbled.
Charlie looked up and tilted his head until his eyes disappeared behind long furry tufts. I bent down, pushed the hair back, then scratched his head. Since Rob left, the dog seemed to sleep more and hadn’t demanded a walk in days. Rain and wind had ruled the skies for most of the week, but nasty weather usually didn’t keep him inside. I wondered if dogs got depressed like people. Did Charlie miss Rob as much as I did, or was the dog picking up on my frame of mind?
The phone rang, and I answered it to hear Susan’s twang. “Hello, there,” she said. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Tell me all about your dates with Tim, of course. Why didn’t you let me know?”
I wound the cord around my finger, something I used to nag at Rob for doing.
“I didn’t get much out of my husband,” she continued. “So, how did it go?”
“Fine.” How much did I want to tell Susan? Most likely she would repeat every word I said to Bob, who would pass it on to Tim.
“You sound like one of my kids. Come on, Marguerite, don’t keep me in suspense.”
As I unwound my finger, I recounted the movie and football game, including the score and big plays, describing Tim as good-looking and a gentleman. I omitted the questionable good-night kiss and my reservations about our lack of chemistry, on my part anyway.
“Do you like him as much as I said you would? Isn’t he a sweetheart?”
“He’s very nice.”
“I knew you two would hit it off. Isn’t it amazing he’s still single?”
I tried to think of a diplomatic way to ask why that was. I wasn’t sure I swallowed Tim’s account of his nervous fiancée. Sure, men got cold feet all the time, but I hadn’t heard of many women calling off their weddings.
“Guess he hasn’t met the right woman yet,” she said. “Men have internal clocks too, and he told Bob he’s ready to settle down. I knew it would
