Lost and Wanted(52)
Jack’s sitter, Julia, had arrived and was giving him mac ’n’ cheese in the kitchen. I was doing my makeup in the upstairs bathroom, the phone balanced on the side of the sink. Unlike clothing, makeup calms me down. It’s the same every time. I have a steady hand—Mr. Ryshke, my AP Chemistry teacher, once said that I could be a surgeon, a fact I recalled just recently—and I especially enjoy doing my eyes. When Sonja’s message came, I continued doing them, rubbing pale shadow under the brow, a darker color in the crease. I lined them carefully with black powder and an angled brush (something Charlie taught me) and admired my work in the mirror. My eyes are hazel, and my hair has darkened from its orangey childhood shade to a more subdued auburn color. I also have what my mother used to refer to as “a good figure.” She would say this in a slightly accusatory way, as if I had purchased for myself some extravagant and unnecessary item. I have always felt that my nose is too big, and there are now impossible-to-cover lines in my forehead, exacerbated by reading too much in insufficient light or without my glasses. There was no way I could go alone.
Jack screamed an inquiry about ice-cream sandwiches from the kitchen, and I gave permission. I considered what I would tell Julia, if I could plausibly send her home with only an hour’s pay. My phone pinged and I glanced at it reflexively: maybe Sonja had changed her mind. But it was Terrence—he was wondering if Jack and I would like to meet them for Thai food in Central Square.
Old friend having a party tonight.
I wrote this without thinking. I wanted Terrence to know that my friends had parties, that we didn’t sit around all the time doing equations together. A moment later it occurred to me that Terrence was, in fact, the perfect person to bring to the party. He was much better-looking than Marshall, but no one could say I was bringing him out of defensiveness. I was spending time with the bereaved husband of my friend, a person who was soon to move in downstairs.
I added:
Physicist I worked with on big project—his engagement party.
Neel?
I was surprised. By the time Charlie met Terrence, my relationship with Neel was years in the past. Even if she’d mentioned our collaboration, she would hardly have bothered to go into detail about a friend of mine whose name wouldn’t have meant anything to Terrence.
Did Charlie mention him?
Y
In what context?
Gloucester
Until Charlie died, I hadn’t thought about her aunt’s house on the North Shore for years. Now the weekend we’d spent there seemed like the fulcrum on which the past had tipped into the present. Of course there was no way to say that to Terrence.
Right—he came up for the weekend once.
I waited for a response, but none was forthcoming. I couldn’t help myself:
Should be some interesting people tonight—if you want to come?
The gray dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. I was surprised by how much I hoped he’d say yes.
Not free till 9.
I gave him the details, and he said he thought he could be ready by 9:30. I said that I would pick him up. Then I stood in the bathroom with my phone for a half an hour, pretending to look at the news, worrying that Terrence would reconsider. Finally, at 8:45, I went down to say goodbye to Jack, who was watching a movie with Julia.
“You look nice,” she said, with the condescending generosity of people her age. When I got in the car, it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked Terrence for the address, but I found that I didn’t need it. It had been twenty years since I’d driven to Charlie’s childhood home, but I remembered the way.
3.
As soon as we arrived at the bar, I saw that I’d made a terrible mistake. The restaurant was one of those Cambridge establishments that aspired to a more cosmopolitan style: Scandinavian in feeling, it had a black-and-white tiled floor, brick walls, and a beamed ceiling. Bottles shone behind the lacquered wooden bar. There was a sign on the door that said “private party,” but instead of elegant people in cocktail attire, it looked like a department happy hour. Even those I didn’t know were dressed like scientists, which shouldn’t have surprised me. Those who belonged to Roxy were likely to be in medicine or nonprofits. Why had I let my sister talk me into blue lace?
“Do you want a drink?” asked Terrence, who managed to be both stylish and appropriately casual, in a black long-sleeved T-shirt with a sports jacket on top. I didn’t want him to leave me alone, but I also hesitated to take off my coat, which would be necessary when we left the vicinity of the door. I hadn’t yet said hello to anyone, and so I was thinking that it was still possible to leave.
“I’m afraid this is going to be boring for you. We don’t have to stay.”
“I go to bars all the time,” Terrence said, misunderstanding.
I remembered Charlie telling me that Terrence didn’t drink, maybe in the context of my own habits, which are moderate. If I have more than two drinks, I inevitably forget to stop. Charlie, who took pride in being able to hold her liquor, liked to tease me about it.
“I’m getting sparkling water,” Terrence said. “You want something?”
I asked Terrence for a beer, then took off my coat and put it awkwardly over my arm. At least the room was crowded enough that no one was looking at me.