IT WAS FIFTEEN PAST THREE, AND LENA AND I SAT AT AN OUTSIDE PATIO TABLE beneath one of Airport Radisson’s heating lamps. Every five minutes, jets just a few feet aboveground roared over us, rattling our drink glasses and the tray of chips and spinach dip. Lena’s orange Birkin bag and my battered messenger bag sat in the chair Syeeda would have occupied. At the bar inside, men of many colors all glowed TV-mosaic purples, whites, and reds. Every face was glued to flat-screen televisions and to college kids hustling up and down a basketball court.
Lena pushed her phone in my direction.
“I’m not calling,” I said. “I have nothing to say to her right now. She basically called me a sellout.”
Lena gave me a raspberry.
I had three hours to myself before meeting Colin back at the station. And I had chosen to use that time to close circles and trim dead-ends in my personal life. Call it a psychological “control burn” of overgrown trees and brush that kept me stooped and weak.
Lena shivered. “Oh my lord, it’s so effin’ cold.” She wore silver short-shorts and an artfully ripped Hello Kitty sweatshirt.
“Maybe you should wear clothes in the winter,” I said, eyebrow arched.
“Maybe I should cut out my gallbladder with a rusty melon baller first. And it’s spring now, so—” She gave me another raspberry. Then she picked up the phone and waggled it.
I sipped my tonic water. “Stop it or I’m gonna throw your new phone into the pool.”
“Ugh. I hate when you two put me in the middle. And I’m glad I don’t have to worry about ‘keepin’ it real.’ I was always surrounded by Oreos.”
“You’re the Oreo queen.”
“Didn’t even know a Crip until I dated what’s his face. The hot one with the tats and the cornrows. That summer was like, education abroad or … ecotourism.”
I glanced at my watch.
“Almost time?” she asked.
I nibbled on the lime wedge. “Uh huh.”
“So have you and Sam … canoodled yet?” she asked. “Or is he now in the discard pile like his predecessors?”
“We had an argument last night. His ex-wife answered his phone. He claims that nothing’s happening. I don’t feel like believing him right now. We’re … too soon anyway.”
She plucked a green olive from her dirty martini. “You never get past two weeks cuz everything’s too soon. Is that Dr. Zach guy the next sucker on the sampler platter?”
My face flushed. “No.”
“You went out with him.”
“Not true.” I reached for another tortilla chip. “We happened to be at the same place at the same time. I may be a blue-collared cop, but iced tea and a soggy panini will never count as a date in my eyes.”
“And the flowers he sent?”
I shrugged, then ate the tortilla chip.
“Why are you having such a difficult time with this?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Is it because he’s not black?”
My head fell back and I stared at the sky. “Oh my—”
“You have to get over that,” Lena said. “Open your mind. And then … open your legs.”
I looked at her. “His color, whatever the hell he is, does not bother me. And I’m not ready to open my legs for anyone right now.” I paused, then added, “I don’t think.”
Lena was staring at me. “Sam and his ex—”
“Worries me. I don’t think she’s over him, which … When she answered his phone … I just … They were married fifteen years, so I get it. I won’t come first in his life, so why try?”
“You don’t know that,” Lena argued.
“I do know that. I’ve never come first in anyone’s life. Not even my mother’s because Tori was always there even when she wasn’t. Sam will get bored or lonely or something cuz it’s always something.
“And what kind of future is that, Lee? Always waiting for the shoe to drop because it will drop. It always drops. Say Sam and I or whoever he is have a family, and I achieve Normal. I’ll be home with the kids, and one day, out of the blue, I find myself praying that he shows up for the piano recital this time, knowing that he won’t. And then I have to explain to the kids that Daddy has to work late. Or break the news that Daddy won’t ever come home again.”
“Lou, he’s not—”
“My father?” I chuckled. “My ex? Your ex? I’m tired of seeing the backs of men.”
“My dad didn’t leave,” she pointed out. “Neither did Sy’s. Many men stay. You just got unlucky.” She offered a sympathetic smile, then drained her martini glass. “Stop being the skeptic all the time. Sounds exhausting. Think good things sometimes. Ignore evil at least three hours a day.”
“That’s a long time,” I said, slumping in my chair.
“I watched you at dinner the other night,” Lena said, “when Colin and I barged in on you and Sam—”
My phone chattered with the Ewoks ringtone.
“What does Gregory want?” Lena said, lip curled.
“We were supposed to meet today to talk about house stuff.”
“You believe that?”
I smirked. “Of course not.”
She stared at me without speaking.
I avoided her eyes and took the olive skewer out of her martini glass. “As you were saying about dinner?”
“You’re … lighter with Sam,” she said. “You shine brighter with him. So different than when you were with him.” She pointed at my phone.
I sighed. “Serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard.”
“Stop channeling Dorothy Parker, all right? Zach. Sam. Any man other than Gregory. It’s okay to play the field. Just be happy doing it.”
“And then I, too, will have thirty dick pics in my Gmail?”
“You’ll never have more than me, ma chère. You’re too scared of hell and Jesus and your mother.”
I threw my head back and laughed.
“Seriously,” she said, “in your best optimism, what do you want from Sam? Speak it into the universe.”
I let my head fall back again, and I stared at the smooth belly of the Virgin Air jetliner passing over us. “I want the assurance that he’ll always be there for me.” I straightened in my chair to look at my friend. “Now, what’s supposed to happen? When will the universe respond?”
She shrugged. “No clue.”
“You’re useless.”
“Call Syeeda now.”
“No.”
“I talked to the professor today,” she said, not missing a beat. “He wants me to fly back to New York for his retirement party.”
I popped an olive into my mouth. “Will there be mimes and foie gras and Josephine Bakers wearing banana skirts and James Baldwin impersonators reading passages from ‘Blues for Mister Charlie’?”
She giggled. “Is it some reverse-oedipal daddy thing that I want a man like him?”
“A man who adores you, who is amused by you, a man who is willing to spoil you all the days of your life?” I shook my head. “Nah.”
She glanced at the clock on her phone. “The time has come, ma chère.”
I slowly inhaled, then exhaled. “I don’t wanna do this. Why am I doing this? Too much free time. And nature abhors a vacuum.”
Lena grabbed her bag from the chair. “I’m glad you called me—I worry that you’re gonna stroke out sometimes. All stress and no canoodling makes Lou a dull girl.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t call Greg.”
“Why not?”
“He’s your Kryptonite.”
“Okay.”
“Call Sam instead.”
“Why?”
“Cuz he’s …”
“The rays of the sun?” I asked, smiling.
Lena blinked at me, ignorant of the source of Superman’s superpowers. “I was gonna say, ‘cuz he’s fine as hell and deserves your consideration.’ But sun rays are also a good answer. Really, Elouise. Be more receptive—people come into your life for a reason.”
“Yes. Thank you. So, with everything going on between me and Sy right now,” I said, “can I live at the beach with you for the moment?”
Lena lifted an eyebrow. “If I say no, where will you stay?”
I canted my head. “If I say, ‘over at the Dark Side,’ what will you say?”
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll do anything to keep you from Greg. Oh!” She dug in her bag and pulled out a packet of watermelon Pop Rocks. “Use these next time you and Sam are together.”
I stared at the packet. “Really?”
She winked at me. “I know you’re the Altoids type, but switch up. Remember: don’t sprinkle them inside. We don’t want you in the ER.”
I said, “Umm … Okay.”
We walked arm in arm to the lobby.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Lena said. “I promise.”
“Yep. And now go put some clothes on.”
She grinned. “Only if you take some off.”
We hugged again before she clickety-clacked back to her Range Rover.