I spend the day doing everything I can to avoid thinking about Beau. Caitlin and I took a load of her stuff to Goodwill, and then we cleared out her spare room for my stay. I met with Yvette and Zane, who are still happily subleasing my apartment and my cat. I brought Elmo back to Caitlin’s so I would have his comfort. And I checked on my bank account to verify that I am indeed poorer than poor.
Golden Horizons has kept me on a small retainer for the work I have done from a distance. It has kept the basic must-pay bills, like my cell phone, insurance, and my student loan, from becoming fodder for collectors. I don’t mind seeing my low balance because it reminds me how little I need. I’ve only thought about money a couple of times while in Washington. I’ve barely needed any spending money because I’ve been focused on the kids, on chores, and on my parents. It is amazing how frugal a life can be when it is not self-focused.
When I check my watch for the millionth time and see that the workday has ended, my heart plummets. Not one call from Beau. And tomorrow I have to go to the office to meet with the fund-raising committee. How can I face him if he won’t face up to our situation?
Caitlin is packing boxes of her fashion creations at the store, so Elmo and I sit on beanbag chairs and continue waiting. We are really good at it. I scratch Elmo’s belly for five minute intervals and then sigh heavily for thirty seconds. Elmo then looks up at me curiously and squirms to position another part of his belly for the next round of scratching. Elmo and I have been apart for months, yet we can return to the same level of relationship almost immediately. Okay, two cans of cat food and one catnip toy later—just like old times. I wish human relationships were this easy.
The call I have been waiting for comes at six thirty. My legs are numb from sitting on the beanbag, so I crawl like a soldier in combat over to my purse, in which I left my cell phone so that I would not appear desperate. The phone is just switching to my message when I intercept.
“Hello?”
“Mari? I was just leaving you a message.” Beau states what I know and leaves out what I don’t know. Like where do we stand? What is he thinking? Is he really sorry?
“Should I listen to it?”
“No, of course not. I’m glad I caught you.”
“Me too.”
“I’d like to meet at the park.”
“Meet?”
“Do you need a ride?”
I would like a ride from my boyfriend. “My car is here at Caitlin’s house. I can meet you.”
“I’ll pick up something for us to eat.”
“Great. See you there. Beau…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you called.”
“Me too.”
I reach the park first. A group of kids are finishing up a soccer game, so I watch both teams shake hands in a gesture of good sportsmanship. They appear to be grade-schoolers, with nylon shorts dragging near the tops of their striped socks and haircuts that resemble the Beatles—early years.
I stare at the faces and soon see Wallace, Camden, Jon, Elsa, and the others. I’ve lived in a city completely unaware of the children who reside here. My life has been about work, my friends, and the quest for an identity beyond that of “single.” I cannot imagine that I coexisted with all these little people without noticing them.
My phone rings. I anxiously check the car clock before answering. Beau is running late and it bothers me. “Where are you?” I ask as my greeting.
“Where are you, Mari? The talent show starts in ten minutes,” Yvette volleys back. “Zane mentioned it today when you were over.”
“He did?” My mind recalls a vague reference. “I’m so sorry. Beau is on his way over. I don’t know if we can make it. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Don’t worry. I wanted to catch you if you still wanted to come, but don’t feel pressure. Besides, we already have your money for the tickets. That’s all that matters,” she says, laughing.
Beau’s headlights come into view at the south entrance of the parking lot and his car rolls up to the left of mine.
“Thanks for understanding, Yvette. I’ll let you know how this goes.”
Beau waves the bags of Chinese food happily. It is as if nothing had happened between us.
I roll down my window and he rolls down his passenger window.
“Were you calling the cops? Sorry I was late. They left out the fried rice in the order.”
“It was Yvette. I completely forgot about that talent show she is coordinating. It is tonight, and I had bought tickets for us. But that was well before—before recent developments.” I string this out slowly hoping he will catch on to our situation.
“Let’s go!”
“But the Chinese food will get cold.” And so will our relationship.
“It’s better cold. We need a date night.”
“We won’t be able to discuss all that space we’ve had lately.”
“I think this is just what we need. We’ll have the Chinese tomorrow for lunch.”
As we both start up our cars and drive to the auditorium just minutes away, it feels like forever. My heart is racing, but my thoughts are caught in slow-motion mode. “What is he thinking?” I ask aloud. My voice seems low and distorted.
At a stoplight I look over and Beau is parallel to me. He gives me a thumbs-up.
“Who are you?” I mouth.
“I love you too,” he mouths back. A crisp Chinese noodle sticks out from the corner of his mouth. I watch it move as he forms words, wide and exaggerated—the noodle teeters on the edge of his lips; it will tumble either onto his tongue or his nice leather upholstery.
I cannot take my eyes off of that noodle, as though its inevitable fall will trigger my very own.