Chapter 23
On Sunday, since Darlene hadn’t been in touch and I was concerned about her, I went to the one place I was certain to find her: worship services at the First Presbyterian Church of Lenape Hollow. I inserted myself into the pew next to her and gave her my widest smile. I received a decidedly guilty look in return.
As soon as the recessional began, I addressed the elephant in the room. “You’ve been avoiding me, kiddo. Don’t you think it’s about time you told me why?”
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, gave a theatrical sigh, and conceded my point.
I followed Darlene’s van back to her place. Since Frank was at the golf course, we had the house to ourselves, but she insisted on making sandwiches before we settled down to talk. By the time we were seated at her kitchen table with plates and glasses in front of us and the smell of recent baking—apples and cinnamon—in the air, I’d lost patience with her delaying tactics.
“So?”
“I guess you’re wondering why I’ve been so uncommunicative all week.” She inscribed random patterns on the tabletop with the tip of one finger and avoided meeting my eyes.
“I guess I do. I’ve been worried about you. I know darned well something is wrong. You haven’t been yourself since the day I took you to see the eye doctor.”
The hint of a smile curved her lips at that statement. “Gee, you should have been a detective.”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
She cocked her head, inviting me to fill her in then and there. Instead, I motioned for her to continue.
“What can I say? I’ve been down in the dumps and feeling sorry for myself.”
“Why?”
Darlene took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich, delaying the next part of her confession. I followed suit, trying to pretend I wasn’t about to explode with curiosity. Darlene makes a mean chicken salad with homemade mayo and tiny bits of Vidalia onions and green peppers, but for once I didn’t take the time to savor the taste.
When she spoke, her words came out in a rush. “I thought I was losing my eyesight. That day you took me to Dr. Shapiro it wasn’t just for a checkup, and the tests didn’t go well. He told me I needed to see a specialist. He said there was a possibility that I might go blind.”
The food I’d just put in my mouth instantly turned to sawdust. With an effort, I finished chewing and swallowed. “Oh, Darlene, I—”
She spoke right over my attempt to comfort her. “Dr. Shapiro set up an appointment for me with a guy in Middletown. I drove myself to the appointment and had more tests.”
“You didn’t have to go through this alone. I could have—”
“Yes, I did. I didn’t want anyone to know.” She shrugged. “I didn’t even tell Frank. I can’t stand the thought of being pitied.”
There was nothing I could say to that. She wouldn’t believe me if I claimed that no one would feel sorry for her.
“Anyway,” she continued, “when the specialist looked over the list of medicines I take, he picked up on something that Dr. Shapiro missed. The scare was a false alarm. Or to be more specific, the problem was caused by one of my arthritis medications. Lucky me. I get to choose between living with pain and losing my sight.”
Although she was trying to make light of the scare she’d had, I could imagine how frightened she must have been. “I just wish you’d told me sooner. At the least I could have offered moral support.”
“I didn’t want to talk about it. To tell you the truth, I didn’t even want to think about it. I still don’t, really, but you deserved an explanation for my behavior.”
“I get why you clammed up. I do.” I reached across the table to place my hand over hers. It was vibrating with tension. “The thought of not being able to see would scare the bejesus out of me, too.”
There was no need to say more. After a moment, we went back to eating lunch.
“So,” Darlene asked when only crumbs remained on her plate, “how was your week?”
“Interesting,” I said, and filled her in on what I’d been up to.
When she laughed at the saga of Lake Kitchen, I knew our friendship was back on an even keel.
“One of these days, I’ve got to meet this cat of yours,” she said.
“Any time. Just don’t bring the dog.” I reached down to ruffle Edmund’s ears as he gazed up at me with adoring but bloodshot eyes. “Calpurnia would beat the crap out of him.”