Silence.
“He was picking up something for the restaurant and left in a hurry.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Char, I’m sorry about this weekend. I really am.”
“It’s not just that,” I venture. Although I don’t want to get into a serious discussion on the phone in the middle of a bar, I need to talk to him about this. I need him to soothe my fears. To tell me it’s going to be okay. “Where are we going here? If you’re too distracted to have me around unless your schedule is totally free, then realistically, how often will we see each other?”
There. I’m damned proud of myself for putting the words into an intelligible string. They’ve been floating around in my head in one form or another ever since he cancelled.
“So you’re not going to answer my question?”
What the hell is he talking about? It takes a solid ten seconds for it to click.
“Rob Slater? Seriously?”
“The gym teacher?”
“Phys ed,” I correct him. “With about fifteen other people from my school.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. What did you think? That I was so disappointed you cancelled I went and found a new boyfriend to occupy my time?”
I’m definitely being extra pissy now, but I can’t help it.
“I didn’t know what to think. Gian just said you were sitting at the bar with some guy. I’m surprised he didn’t recognize Rob.”
“He has a beard now.”
“You don’t like beards.”
“No,” I agree. “I don’t.”
“And I’m getting the sense you don’t like me very much right now either.”
It couldn’t be further from the truth, which is exactly what has me worried.
“I like you enough to be disappointed about this weekend.” I take a swig of beer, but it’s not going down as smoothly as before.
“I’m a shithead.”
I don’t argue with him.
“It’s not like me to be jealous.”
“Really? You weren’t just a teensy bit annoyed by your friend Marc from Virginia?”
Enzo groans. “He is not my friend.”
“This is where you’ve been hiding,” a friend of mine whispers as she makes her way into the ladies’ room. “Party’s over there.” She points to our gang.
“Go ahead,” Enzo says, having clearly overheard her. “I have to get back to the lab anyway.”
“Char,” he adds. Then stops. My heart starts beating faster. Will he use the L word? And even if he does, will it be enough to keep this long-distance relationship from falling apart before it really gets started?
“Yeah?”
“I’ll call you tonight. If,” he rushes to add, “you’ll be home. And if you’re not, it’s no big deal.”
Nope, no big L word. No real discussion of the conundrum we’re in.
“I’ll be home,” I say. “Give me a buzz when you’re done.”
Awkward silence.
“Will do. Have fun in the meantime.”
“Same to you.”
Another short pause, and then he hangs up.
I’m pretty sure that was our first fight. Which is fine—everyone fights—only I don’t feel like we resolved anything.
Trouble in paradise?
A week ago I’d have said no way, but now?
Now I’m not so sure.
32
Enzo
“You’re looking pleased with yourself.”
I haven’t seen Chari in almost three weeks, but I’m going home this weekend. So yes, I’m pretty pleased. And it looks like we’ve finally made a breakthrough on the vodka formula.
Hayden winds up a forkful of pasta as masterfully as if he’s been doing it every week for years. Because he has.
“You really need to try something else,” I tell him. “There’s an entire menu, you know.”
Hayden doesn’t answer, mouthful of food and all.
“I’m going home for the weekend,” I admit, knowing Hayden will figure it out anyway. I brace myself for his teasing, and it comes as soon as he finishes his mouthful of linguine.
“Ah, so that’s the reason for Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky? And here I thought it was the vodka.”
“That too.” I take a bite of eggplant. It’s good, but not nearly as good as my mother’s. Maybe I can convince her to make it this weekend. I make a mental note to ask Tris to put it on the specials menu for Saturday night. Mom splits her time now between the pizza shop and the restaurant, like Lusanne, although her focus is on helping in the kitchen. Tris told me that every time Mom cooks the special, they sell out of it.
“But no work,” I remind Hayden.
“Right.”
We talk about life with a baby, and Hayden tells me, quite rightly, how lucky he is to have Ada. Which, of course, leads us back to Chari.
“So how long are you going to do this for exactly?” he says, leaning back in his chair.
The waiter takes away our plates. I sit back, full and happy, wine firmly in hand.
“Do what?”
“Eke out a weekend here and a night there to see her?”
It’s not like I haven’t thought about that. And although she and I haven’t outright discussed it, the long-distance nature of our relationship hangs over us. As does the one and only argument we’ve gotten into so far. Because I’m not sure our problems are solvable.
This is my life for the foreseeable future. And Chari has her own life, back in Bridgewater.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I asked her why she moved back home after college, just out of curiosity.”
“And to feel her out about possibly moving out of Bridgewater?”
I won’t admit it, but yeah. Exactly that.
“She won’t do it.”
That seems to surprise Hayden.
“Her job?”
My answer is automatic. “No, actually. Chari loves her kids but hates her boss. And the system, which is set up to reward neurotypical kids. Ones who are good at navigating the kind of learning that happens in most schools.”
Hayden knows I struggled in school when I was younger, but I’ve never explained the extent of it. It strikes me now that it’s a little weird I haven’t told him. He’s like a brother to me. And keeping the secret gives it power, something I don’t want to do anymore.
“I’m dyslexic,” I admit. I’m not ashamed, not anymore, but I’m still angry at a system that nearly failed me.
Hayden’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I take a sip of wine, relaxed despite the topic of conversation. Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” begins to pipe through the restaurant as if Ol’ Blue Eyes himself is commending me for having done, well, just that. I love this song. “So I get her frustrations. If it weren’t for my mom, I probably would have slipped through the cracks too.”
Hayden looks confused. “But . . .”
Time to dispel some myths. “It doesn’t mean I can’t read. Just that I had to learn how in a totally different way. The school did squat to help me figure it out. Unfortunately, Chari is now dealing with the same bullshit but from a different angle. Education is slow to change even though we have all of the resources.”