“Her father died. And she was completely heartbroken.” Sarah wiped her eyes carefully, so as not to smudge her mascara. “The first bad thing that ever happened to her. Mr. Carlisle . . . he was the best. I still remember her voice when she called me. I knew right then and there something horrible had happened.”
And so Josh learned that Sarah’s own father had left when she was eight, popped out a few new children with his next two wives and had to be ordered into paying child support by the court. Sarah was her mother’s only child, alone to bear the contentiousness of the divorce and the neglect from her father. When Sarah did visit her father in Arizona, she was forced to babysit her younger half brothers and a stepsister, courtesy of her father’s second wife. Sarah had adored that little girl, but once her father divorced Wife Number Two, she never saw her again.
“So her family life . . . that was just one more thing she had that I didn’t. Did you know the Carlisles ate together every night? Every night! My mom worked nights, so I always made my own dinner. Frozen pizza and shit like that.”
Josh made a noncommittal noise. He and his mom had eaten together every night, too, and at least once a week with the Kims. Once in a while, his mom would go out with her friends or attend a lecture, in which case the Kims had him sleep over and treated him like their own son. From the age of eight until fourteen, he’d spent every afternoon at their house, fixing things in the basement with Ben, cooking with and being spoiled by Sumi.
The image of Sarah opening a cardboard box and eating pizza alone was awfully sad.
They ordered dessert, and the evening, which had been dragging earlier, was now quite . . . pleasant. Interesting. There was something to be said for this after all, this . . . interaction. Mining of information.
“Something happened to Lauren after her dad died,” Sarah said. “She grew up, I think.”
Josh nodded. “I thought so, too.” He hesitated, feeling slightly guilty. “The first time I met her, I thought she was a twit.”
“Are you serious?” Sarah exclaimed. “I thought it was love at first sight!”
“Second sight,” he admitted. “And I think you’re right. She had an easy life, and she was missing a little . . .” He paused to find the right word.
“Gravitas?”
“Yes. Exactly.” Was he gossiping about his wife? He pushed his fork into the unnecessary whipped cream that accompanied his cheesecake, making a pattern and then smoothing it out and repeating the motion carefully, finding peace in the repetition. “But the next time we met, she was different. There was more . . . there was more to her. And she was only eighteen that first time. She had the right to be . . . young. Carefree. Goofy.”
Sarah nodded and wiped her eyes, managing a smile. “She was awesome when she was goofy.”
That was the truth. Lauren could make everyone laugh, herself most of all. How many nights had she fallen asleep giggling at her own joke, or starting a tickle war with him? She’d laughed in her dreams, even. “What were some of the goofy things you guys did together?” he asked.
“Oh, God. We used to write romance stories in school about our teachers and pass them back and forth. We’d torture Jen if I was sleeping over, spying on her, hiding in her closet to scare her later. Lauren loved talking in an accent with strangers. Russian was her best, I think.”
He hadn’t known that. The little tidbits were better than the dessert. Things he could take home later and play over and over. He felt unexpectedly grateful to Sarah, sharing all these prized memories.
The server came over, asked if they’d like more coffee. “Just the check, thanks,” Sarah said, so that was the end of the evening, he guessed. It was strangely disappointing. He’d never enjoyed Sarah so much, this different, more honest side of her (and yes, hearing stories about Lauren).
“How are you doing with the letters?” Sarah asked when the server left.
He was silent a minute, considering his answer. “They’re . . . they’re good. They help.”
She waited for more, but he didn’t offer anything else. “Asmaa told me about the children’s garden, and how you’re volunteering there. Lauren would really like that.”
His throat tightened at her words. “Thanks,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
“You made her so happy, Josh.”
He looked at the crisscrosses in the whipped cream, then smoothed them out and remade them, more carefully this time.
It’s okay to show how you feel, Lauren had told him on more than on occasion, especially after her diagnosis. You’ll be surprised at how kind most people are.
Easier said than done. But he forced himself to look at Sarah and gave a nod, abruptly glad that their dinner was over.
21
Joshua
Still damn month seven because time seemed frozen, letter number seven
September
IT WAS ONLY a few sentences, but those sentences made his joints zing with adrenaline and a little horror.
My sweet darling Josh, hello!
I have a wicked fun thing for you this month. You ready?
See a medium.
Oh, come on! Why not? It’ll be fun. You know you want to see if there’s a GB, my darling atheist. Give it a shot! You never know. Maybe I’ll appear and we can sneak off for a paranormal shag. Or maybe I’ll be busy doing angelic, miraculous things and you won’t hear from me. If that’s the case, know that I’m doing THE LORD’S WORK saving children from being hit by buses, rescuing kittens, etc.
But I know what I believe: I believe in you and me. Forever.
I love you.
Lauren
She had to be kidding.
She wasn’t kidding.
This . . . okay, he would need help for this one. His mother was out; being Lutheran, her religious focus had been on ideas such as Jesus died horribly for you, you wretch, and therefore you should make casseroles for potluck suppers. Mrs. Kim, though, was a hard-core Catholic and had saints for every occasion.
He picked up his phone and called their landline, since they were of the demographic who only turned their cell phones on if they wanted to make a call. “Ben? Hi, it’s Joshua.”
“Hello, son. What’s new?”
“Um . . . do you know any . . . uh . . . any mediums?”
There was a long pause. “I think you better talk to Sumi,” he said. “She loves that crazy woman on TV. The one with the hair?”
“Yeah. Lauren did, too.” Which is probably why she gave him this ridiculous task.