The Friends We Keep(70)

She passed the kitchen table and grabbed a handful of raspberries from the fridge, pouring them into a small bowl. On the kitchen table were stacks of bills that she hadn’t been able to face, and she picked them up, resolving to pay them after she picked up the hair dye.

Clucking as she walked out the back door, she called, “Hello, girls,” and laughed as the chickens appeared, running along the path, half jumping, their wings flapping in excitement as they saw her, the prospect of treats one they looked forward to every day.

Fluffy pushed her way to the front, except it had become apparent in the last few weeks, not just to Maggie but it would appear to the neighbors as well, that Fluffy, a small white Bantam Silkie, was a rooster. Maggie thought she had bought only female chicks, but Fluffy, with his extravagant tail feathers and recent crowing, clearly slipped through the cracks.

Poor neighbors, she thought. She herself had been woken up at five in the morning, but she couldn’t possibly get rid of Fluffy. What was one supposed to do with a rooster, she wondered, particularly this one, to whom she was already attached?

She scattered the raspberries, using the opportunity to attempt to pat Fluffy, who expertly hopped out of her reach, even while managing to grab a raspberry at the same time. She laughed, then went back into the house to grab her car keys, this time with a smile on her face.





thirty


- 2019 -



Honey? Did you want almonds on the oatmeal as well?”

Topher was in the kitchen of the luxury flat they had rented in Kensington. There was no response from the living room, so Topher tipped a few out from the packet he had picked up at Marks & Spencer at Heathrow, sprinkled them on the oatmeal (which was called porridge in England, which was so delightfully Dickensian, he laughed out loud as he put the box in his basket), added just a sprinkle of brown sugar, and no butter. Benedict had to watch his cholesterol.

He brought the bowl into the living room, with his own hard-boiled eggs and grapefruit, passing Benedict, who had his legs up on the chaise longue. His reading glasses were on the tip of his nose as he perused last weekend’s New York Times.

“Come on, Dickie,” said Topher. “Breakfast is ready.”

Benedict looked up. “Oh! I didn’t hear you. I was lost in this fascinating article about the Trumps.”

Topher groaned. “No. I can’t. I need a break from politics.”

“This isn’t politics,” said Benedict, getting up slowly and making his way to the dining table in the sunny bay window. “This is family dynamics.”

“I just don’t want to think about it while I’m over here. If you want to talk about the queen, that’s fine with me, but no politics.”

“Why would you want to talk about an old queen when you already have this old queen sitting by your side?”

“You’re my old queen,” said Topher affectionately, reaching out and rubbing Benedict’s arm, “which makes you very dull. I already know everything about you.”

Benedict smiled at him. “You are good to me, darling boy. What would I do without you?”

“You’d probably find some other lovely young man to accompany you to the theater and look after you.”

“I might. I definitely wouldn’t have the good health I have today if it weren’t for you. I do love you.”

“I know,” said Topher, picking up the Arts section and sliding it out to read while he ate his own breakfast. “I love you too. Go ahead and eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.”

Benedict stirred his oatmeal, and did exactly as he was told.

“So, are you excited about seeing your old friends tonight?” he asked.

“I’m dreading the reunion, but I can’t wait to see the girls. I haven’t seen Maggie since the funeral, which was . . .” He paused to think. “God! Three years ago. That’s terrible. What kind of a friend am I that I haven’t seen her for so long when she’s dealing with such loss. Do you know her mother contacted me through Instagram?”

“I thought you weren’t doing Instagram anymore.”

“I’m not. I just go on from time to time to check. But Maggie’s mother messaged me and apparently Maggie’s been in a deep depression. She said I had to convince her to come to the reunion, so that’s why I did. And I’ve got a job to do tonight.”

“The job being?”

“Her mother wants her to sell the house and move to an apartment in Bath, but I told her I couldn’t push that on her if she didn’t want it. I do think she needs to get out more though. And maybe take some antidepressants.”

“Do you think she’ll talk to you about that, given how long it’s been?”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping that we’ll all fall back into the friendship we’ve always had, but maybe that’s too much to ask. Oh God, Dickie! I’ve imagined having this wonderful catch-up, but what if we’ve all changed too much and we have nothing in common anymore?”

“Then you’ve all changed too much and you have nothing in common anymore. That’s okay. That’s life.”

“I know, I know. You’re right. Meanwhile, to be superficial, I’m going to putter around Westbourne Grove this afternoon, see if I can find a blazer. I don’t like the one I brought at all,” said Topher as Benedict finished his breakfast. “You’ll be all right here by yourself?”