Chapter 24

 

Amy said she wasn’t hungry, but I talked her into splitting a turkey sandwich. I wasn’t exactly starving myself, but my system needed more to run on than an empty box of Cheerios. The waitress brought us our sandwich, a side of fries and a couple of iced teas. 

Amy looked terrible. Her worry lines were prominently on display, and I could tell she’d been crying, maybe a lot.

“I feel like shit,” she said, lighting a cigarette.

She went on to tell me that she and the dentist had had a big, hairy fight that morning, him saying rotten things about her family and how ridiculous she was acting by not facing the facts where Rick Rod was concerned. “I told him to get out. He packed a bag and went home to Mommy.”

“You’re kidding.”

Her eyes half-mast, Amy blew a slow stream of smoke. “I’m not.”

“If he was a bug, I’d step on him.”

“Thanks. That helps.”

“I hope Mommy lives very far away.”

“Try about a half-mile,” she said, blowing more smoke. “Some supportive spouse, huh?”

Shithead was the S word that came to my mind.

Amy added, “What a prick.”

I had to agree with her there.

“God! Men!” She stubbed her cigarette out, then picked up her sandwich and took a healthy bite. 

 

Am I the only one who’s noticed that no one complains more about men than straight women? It’s beginning to look like the only real friend a regular guy has any more is a lesbian, unless you’re a dentist. Then no one likes you.

 

The waitress swung by and refilled our tea glasses. I uncorked the ketchup and started working on the fries and my half of the turkey sandwich. Sparkie’s was starting to feel like home, and I wasn’t sure that this was good news, but it had been so long since I’d had good news, I wasn’t even sure what it looked like anymore.

To my surprise, Amy reached across the table and laid her hand on mine. I couldn’t help but notice that her hunky diamond ring was now missing in action. Maybe the dentist had decided to give it back to Mommy.

There were extra-large reptile tears pooled up in Amy’s big, sad eyes. In that moment, I realized just how special a woman Amy was, and no matter who’d whacked cousin Abbott, it caused me great pain to see her in such distress.

“Kim,” she said, squeezing my hand, “under the circumstances, I know it’s not fair for me to ask for your help, but will you?” She squeezed my hand. A tear let loose and rolled down her cheek.

Like an idiot I said, “Sure.”