Birdie waits in the doorway long after her daughter pulls out of the driveway and disappears down the road. Until freezing drizzle pings her face and drives her inside. She camps out at the kitchen table with her cell phone in front of her, willing it to ring or ping with a call or text from Cary. From this vantage point, she can see the front door, the door leading to the garage, and the dock. While common sense tells her he’s not coming back, her heart holds out hope he’ll walk through the door with a logical explanation about his whereabouts over the past two days. She might forgive him his affair with a mystery woman, but she would never get over him embezzling funds from his law office. What was it Jonathan said? I’ve known Cary all my life, and one day, you’ll understand how much better off you are without him. Birdie’s known Cary for thirty years. How could she have been that wrong about him? Is her ability to judge character that flawed? If she’s better off without him, why does it hurt so much?
Throughout the afternoon and early evening, Birdie takes periodic shots of vodka, not to get drunk but to maintain the numbness that allows her to endure the ache in her chest. She’s lost her husband. Her daughter can’t stand the sight of her. And, unless the sprawling live oak in her front yard sprouts hundred-dollar bills come spring, she will soon lose her home. She longs to call Max, her lifelong best friend. But pride prevents her from clicking on the number. Max is so accomplished, so strong and capable. While Birdie is a complete and utter failure at life.
Year by year, decade by decade, Birdie relives her life. She was the quintessential stay-at-home mom when Hannah was young. She planned elaborate birthday parties and organized play dates. She went on school field trips and served as a room parent. All that changed when Hannah entered middle school and began cultivating her own social life. It was also around that time when she developed an interest in boating and kayaking and wildlife photography, outdoor activities that drew Hannah away from Birdie and closer to her father.
Birdie hadn’t minded so much. Her heart had swelled with love at the sight of Hannah and her father paddling off together at daybreak with their cameras. During Hannah’s high school years, Birdie, with few hobbies or interests to occupy her time, had grown lonely and bored. And she’d begun to eagerly anticipate her afternoon cocktails.
Birdie counts seven hours off the clock—driving time to Richmond plus extra for traffic slow-downs and stops for food and gas. She sends Hannah a text. Back safely?
Hannah immediately responds with a curt yes.
Birdie takes to her bed for the next five days. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but when it does, she has nightmares and night sweats. She wakes with clammy skin and excruciating headaches. She has no appetite and eats little, bits of leftovers from Christmas dinner that are long since past their prime—slices of honey-baked ham and a spoonful of sweet potato casserole.
Late morning on the sixth day, she wakes to find Max standing over her. “How did you get in?” she asks, gripping the covers to her chest.
Max holds up a blue plastic key ring from which dangles a silver house key. “You gave me this ten years ago, when you asked me to feed your goldfish while the three of you were at Disney World over spring break.” Max lowers herself to the edge of the bed. “I intentionally stayed away thinking you needed some time to yourself. I see that I was wrong. You look like hell, and you smell godawful. When’s the last time you bathed?”
“I don’t remember.” Birdie squeezes her eyes tight against the bright sunshine streaming in through the window. “Close the blinds, already. My head hurts.”
“Probably because you’re hungry. When’s the last time you ate anything?”
“I’ve eaten.”
“But not a proper meal?” Max asks, and Birdie shakes her head.
Max strokes her arm. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Is what they’re saying about Cary true?”
Tears leak from the corners of Birdie’s eyes and roll down the sides of her face. With quivering chin, she says, “He took all our money and ran off with another woman.”
“And the part about him embezzling funds from the firm?”
How did that get out? Birdie wonders. Jonathan would never have betrayed her. “All true.”
“Where’s Hannah?” Max asks.
“She’s gone back to school. She hates me, too.” Birdie rolls over on her side away from Max. “Please, just go. I wanna be alone.”
“No way I’m leaving you.” Jumping to her feet, Max yanks back the covers. “Get up. After you shower and dress, we’re going to have a nice long talk while we eat lunch. I brought over some homemade vegetable beef stew.”
Birdie balls up into a fetal position. “Seriously, Max. Go away.”
“Not a chance.” Max is strong for such a tiny person. She grabs Birdie by the ankles and drags her legs over the side of the bed. When her feet hit the floor, she takes hold of her wrists and pulls her to a standing position.
Dizziness overcomes her, and Birdie stumbles backward. “Easy now.” Hooking an arm around her waist, Max walks Birdie into the adjoining bathroom.
While Max adjusts the shower controls, Hannah, gripping the marble countertop, studies her reflection in the mirror above the sink. The haunted woman staring back at her makes her weak in the knees.
“There now. I think that’s about right.” Max turns away from the shower to face Birdie. “Do you want me to help you undress?”
When Max tugs at her nightgown, Birdie swats her hand away. “I can do it. I’m not an invalid,” she says, despite feeling like one. She wants to shrivel up and die in her bed. Max is the only one who would miss her.
“Okay, then. I’ll be in the kitchen heating up the soup. Call me if you need me.” Max exits the bathroom, leaving the door open on her way out.
Birdie stands under the steaming shower until her fingers wrinkle, and the water runs cold. Feeling slightly revived, she slips on her terrycloth robe and goes to the kitchen. Max has set two places at the table, and seated across from each other, they eat in silence.
Birdie, despite the persistent nausea, devours the meal—flavorful beef and vegetable soup, sweet potato biscuits, and a salad of baby green lettuces, chunks of juicy pear, and blue cheese crumbles. Max is an excellent cook, her culinary skills honed from years of entertaining guests at the boutique hotel she owns and operates.
Max pops the last of a biscuit in her mouth and sits back in her chair. “Tell me about Hannah. When did she leave?”
“The day after Cary disappeared. You know what a daddy’s girl she is. She wanted to lick her wounds in private.”
Max studies Birdie more intently. “What are you not telling me? Did the two of you have a fight?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Birdie balls up her napkin and throws it on the table. “She’s pregnant, Max.”
Max gasps. “Oh, God, no. Not Hannah.”
“She’s determined to keep the baby. I pointed out that she has options. But she didn’t want to hear them. I can’t support her in this decision. Not when she’s throwing her life away. She’ll only be twenty-two years old and raising a baby on her own. She doesn’t even know who the father is.”
Deep lines appear on Max’s forehead. “I don’t believe that. Hannah’s not the type to . . .” Her voice trails off.
“To what? To sleep around? I didn’t think so either, but she did.”
Max rises from the table and begins gathering their dishes. “Poor Hannah. She must feel so alone. And to have her father abandon her when she needs him the most.”
Birdie stands to face her. “I’ve got this, Max.” She takes the dishes Max holds. “Thanks so much for coming over. I really needed a solid meal. But I’m feeling tired. I think I’ll take a nap.”
Max narrows her eyes, scrutinizing her, as though deciding whether Birdie is fit to be left alone. “Fine. But I’ll be checking in on you every day. You need your friends right now. I’m here for you, Birdie. Let me help.”
Birdie takes the dishes to the sink. “I will. When I’m ready. But I’m still numb. I’m struggling to wrap my mind around everything that’s happened.”
“You should get counseling. I can give you the name of my therapist. She really helped me after Daniel died.”
“Maybe in a few weeks.” The only counseling Birdie needs is 80 proof and a heck of a lot cheaper than a shrink.
“Look on the bright side. You have your pie business to keep you busy. And you’ve been talking about expanding your line of baked goods. Now might be the perfect time.”
“Maybe.”
Max puts on her coat, and they walk to the front door together. Birdie holds out her hand. “Can I have my key back? I don’t want you sneaking into my house again while I’m sleeping.”
“Sorry. I’m keeping the key for now.” Max pats her handbag at her hip. “If you return my phone calls and answer the door when I knock, I won’t have to use it.”
Hannah relishes the time alone in the row house she rents with three other girls in Richmond’s Fan District near the VCU campus. She feels safe, locked away in her third-floor bedroom. On her first night back, she cries herself to sleep, the sound of her sobs echoing throughout the empty house. But the next morning she wakes angry as hell. Hannah had nothing to do with her parents’ marital problems. Why is she being punished? Why is her dad taking it out on her?
None of it makes any sense. Hannah and her dad are tight. Wouldn’t she have known if he was unhappy? If he was having an affair? Then a thought occurs to her. What if her father didn’t abandon her? What if he’s waiting for the dust to settle before getting in touch with her?
This newfound hope gets Hannah through the days that follow. Her phone becomes a permanent extension of her hand as she goes about her business. She meets with her faculty adviser to discuss career options, puts in a request for extra hours at the Campus Coffee shop where she’s worked part-time for the past two years, and posts notifications on various bulletin boards offering her services as tutor for a variety of subjects from Calculus 101 to writing computer code.
It snows four inches midweek, and early the following morning, Hannah goes out with her new camera to explore. But none of her pictures are worth saving. Her subjects are uninspiring, the winter landscape bleak despite the glorious morning sunlight. She wishes she could blame her new camera. True, she’s not yet familiar with many of the different features. But her father’s disappearance has thrown her perspective on the world off-kilter.
Hannah’s roommates arrive late in the afternoon on Friday. Squeals of laughter and loud music drift up two flights of stairs to her bedroom. Kayla barges into her room around eight. “What up, girlfriend? Why are you hiding out up here all alone? Get dressed. We’re going to Social 52.”
Hannah glances up from her laptop. Kayla, the prettiest of the roommates with long blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes, is dressed for sex in a black, clingy, super-short dress and over-the-knee boots. “Ya’ll go ahead without me. I’m not really in the mood to go out.”
Kayla smacks her knee. “Since when, party girl? Ryan’s going to be there.”
Hannah groans. “Now I know I’m not going.”
Kayla plops down on her bed at Hannah’s feet. “Are you seriously still mad at him?”
Mad doesn’t begin to describe how Hannah feels about her ex-boyfriend. “The anger has faded a little, but I’m still hurt and disappointed.”
“Ryan texted me a lot over break. He feels awful about what happened, and he misses you like crazy.” Kayla gives her leg a shove. “Forgive him already and get on with it. The two of you are meant to be together.”
“If he cared about me, he wouldn’t have cheated on me.”
“Jeez, Hannah! Stop being such a drama queen. He only kissed that girl. He didn’t sleep with her or anything. He was drunk.”
“That’s no excuse.” Hannah is surprised when her throat thickens, and tears threaten. She thought she was over the worst of her breakup with Ryan.
Rolling off the bed, she slips her computer in her backpack, puts on her down coat, and stuffs her feet in snow boots.
“Where are you going?” Kayla asks, watching her.
“I have to work,” she says, and leaves the room without looking back.
Outside on the sidewalk, she takes deep icy breaths to steady her nerves. She walks aimlessly toward campus. She considers going to the library, but it’s Friday night and classes haven’t even started yet. When she finds herself in front of Campus Coffee, even though she’s not on the schedule to work, she ducks inside.
She orders a decaf from a counter clerk she doesn’t recognize and claims a table by the window. She tries to focus on updating her resume, but clusters of students laughing and cutting up as they pass by on the sidewalk distract her. Forcing her gaze away from the window, she studies the handful of students in the coffee shop. She spots Chris, a Chinese guy she knows from her computer science classes, at the counter. She locks eyes with him, and when he finishes paying for his drink, he comes over to her table and sits down opposite her without being invited.
“What’re you doing here on a Friday night?” Chris asks.
“Working on my resume. What about you?”
“I’m doing some preliminary networking before starting the interview process.” He blows on his coffee before taking a sip. “Why aren’t you off partying somewhere with your friends?”
“I’m tired of college and over the party scene. Bring on the real world.” Despite being pregnant and moping about her dad, she’s genuinely ready to move on with her life.
“Aren’t you a cyber security major?” When she nods, he asks, “What companies are you hoping to get interviews with?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m still doing research. What about you?” She studies Chris as he talks about the firms he’s interested in. He’s kinda cute in his red plaid flannel shirt. Behind rectangular black eyeglass frames, his brown eyes are warm, and something about his smile sets her at ease.
“Where do you wanna live?” she asks.
“California. My girlfriend from back home goes to school out there.”
“Back home, as in China?”
“Yes, China. My proper name is Wang Xiu Ying. Chris is the American name I adopted. My parents are poor farmers. I’m an only child. They spent their life savings sending me to college in the states. I haven’t seen them or my girlfriend in almost four years, since I came here my freshman year.”
Hannah experiences a pang of guilt for being so mean to her mom. “You must miss them a lot.”
Sadness crosses his face. “Very much.”
Hannah closes her laptop, suddenly more interested in his life than her resume. “What do you do over the holidays with no family around?”
Chris chuckles. “I work at the Apple Store. Come Christmas, I’m usually too exhausted to be lonely. What about you?” He tilts his head to the side as he studies her. “Let me guess. Wealthy family. Privileged background.”
Wealthy? No. Comfortable? Once. “Everything about my life is average. Except that I’m from coastal South Carolina. Living on the water is the privilege.”
Hannah had never realized until that moment how much the inlet means to her. She’ll miss the wildlife when she takes a job in Atlanta or New York. Or maybe even California. Hannah wonders what it would be like to live on the West Coast where she knows no one. The idea intrigues her, and she adds California to her list to research for job opportunities.
They talk for another two hours. They share many of the same interests—computers and photography and political views. Chris is unlike her girlfriends, who are only interested in boys, fashion, and partying. Besides, he has a girlfriend, which makes him a safe zone for Hannah. Romance is the last thing she needs right now. Not that anyone would be interested in a twenty-two-year-old unmarried pregnant girl.