AS LIZ AND Mr. Bennet left the rehabilitation center after his physical therapy appointment, her phone buzzed with a confusing and unpunctuated text from Jane: Chip gone
Calling Jane in front of their father was impossible; then, as they headed south on 71, Mr. Bennet said, “Stop by the fish market, will you? I’d like some oysters.”
She knew he meant the smoked kind, and Liz tried to remember whether smoked oysters were healthy. She said, “A Seven Hills classmate of mine is a real estate agent now, and he can come over and discreetly look at the house. What do you think?”
“Supposing I say no—in that case, what time will this fellow show up?”
If the situation were not so dire, Liz might have felt abashed. She said, “He’s free tomorrow at the same time Mom has a Women’s League meeting.”
“Of course he is.”
In the fish market parking lot, Liz said, “Are you okay going in alone?”
“For heaven’s sake,” Mr. Bennet said. “I’m not a boy in short pants.”
“I didn’t know if you’d need help carrying stuff.”
As Liz watched him walk in the rear entrance of the store, she called Jane and said, “Gone where?”
“To Los Angeles.” Jane sounded more confused than upset. “Remember when I told you Eligible is doing a reunion show? He decided to be on it after all.”
“Did the hospital let him take a leave?” Liz asked.
“I don’t know. He only sent a text.”
An unpleasant recognition was spreading within Liz that Jane’s worst fears about Chip were wholly justified. “What a flake,” Liz said. “I’m sorry, but who bails on their job—their job as an ER doctor—after less than three months? Will you forward me the text?”
“Hang on.”
A few seconds later, the gray bubble appeared on the screen of Liz’s phone: Hi want to let u know I’m headed to LA today 4 eligible fan favorites reunion show. Been wondering if dr right fit. Great getting to know u, u r really special person.
Raising the phone back to her ear, Liz said, “Is this a joke?”
“He must have been in a hurry,” Jane said.
“I don’t care if his hair was on fire. This is appalling.”
“I want to feel compassion for him.” Jane’s voice was firmer. “I don’t like being angry.”
“Jane, even a yogi can be pissed when her boyfriend turns out to lack basic communication skills.” Liz could see their father emerge from the store carrying a plastic bag.
“I know I can,” Jane said. “I just don’t want to.”
“Well, you’re definitely better off without him.” How rapidly Liz’s once-favorable opinion was curdling, what unflattering details, previously ignored, could be marshaled as evidence for a contrary view: Chip had been nice enough, yes, but clearly narcissistic and immature; he had never been serious about medicine or her sister. “Dad and I will be home in five minutes,” Liz said. “Want to go to Graeter’s and drown our sorrows in mocha chip ice cream?”
As Mr. Bennet opened the passenger-side door, Jane said, “I hope you know how much I appreciate your support, Lizzy. But now I think it really is time for me to leave Cincinnati.”