Neighborly(26)

There are hugs all around, and then we settle into chairs. I’m between Andie and Tennyson.

“What’s with this music?” Tennyson asks. “It sounds like ice caps melting.” Then in case we didn’t get it, “Glacial pace.”

“You picked this place,” Gina says. “Don’t complain.”

“I wasn’t complaining. I was noting. I like that you can actually hear people talk in this bar.” She turns her phone outward and makes an exaggerated frown. “June’ll be late. It’s got to be another Hope emergency, right?” Tennyson looks around at all of us, like someone might have insider information.

“Probably,” Raquel says with a sympathetic expression.

“Poor June.” This from Yolanda.

“You know June. She doesn’t like to bring everyone else down by talking too much about it, but man. That’s got to be rough.” Tennyson tosses her hair back. Her tone is compassionate, yet there may be a little underlying smugness. After all, she has a houseful of teenagers herself. “Running with the wrong crowd, you know? It can be scary.”

We all shake our heads, a prayer, a for-the-grace-of-God. Then Gina drums on the table. “We’re getting dangerously close to breaking the rule.”

“We’re not talking about our own kids!” Raquel protests.

“But it’s a slippery slope,” Gina says. “If we can’t keep to one rule, what are we? Animals?”

“Hopefully.” Tennyson gives a mischievous grin.

I realize I haven’t said anything. Neither has Andie. I’d assumed her self-possession extended to all scenarios. It’s comforting to think it doesn’t, that she’s merely human. Except that when I look at her, I can’t see any hint of her earlier nerves. She’s just texting on her phone. If it were me, that would be the one rule: no phones. That’s going to be my rule someday with Sadie. When we’re together as a family, we turn everything else off.

But that’s just the kind of thing I’m not supposed to talk about tonight. So what do I say?

“First round’s on me,” Gina says. She smiles at me. “In honor of our newest member. What are you drinking, Kat?”

She sounds perfectly friendly. Yet it registers somehow as a challenge. I want to have the strength of character to say no. You’re not supposed to be subject to peer pressure in your thirties.

“Well, what do they have?” I ask.

“They don’t have an actual menu,” Tennyson says, “but they do all kinds of stuff with crazy names. Like the Silk Purse and the Velvet Revolver. Dead Man Walking. The Catapult is really good if you like tequila.”

It’s a dive bar, so those drinks are going to be strong, and I haven’t had alcohol in more than a year. And it seems prissy to order a Merlot.

“Do they make a Sow’s Ear, too?” Andie asks. “Maybe it would have bacon bourbon. Have you guys ever had that?” Everyone shakes their head. “I’ll have you all over soon.” She’s wooing them, I realize, and her methods sound so much like Doug’s. I think of Yolanda and Wyatt drinking Talisker in Crayola the other day, and how Yolanda seemed so sincere about wanting to get to know me better. But she’s quiet tonight, almost surly. She’s barely looked at me.

Andie’s complimenting Tennyson, another of Doug’s techniques. Andie admitted the other night that she’s not really part of the clique. So am I actually her way in? Is that why she reached out to me? I feel like she’s already abandoning me for someone cooler.

Not that it matters. I shouldn’t be Andie’s friend anyway.

“So, what’ll it be?” Gina asks me, with a hint of impatience.

“Just a Coke,” I say quietly, feeling like I’m letting them all down. But I can’t afford to let go of my inhibitions.

Everyone debates and then places their drink order with Gina, who makes her way over to the bar.

“We’re allowed to talk about husbands,” Tennyson announces. “Like, can I just say, Doug is awesome?”

The other women nod enthusiastically. I should be grateful that Doug’s a hit. Instead, I feel like the weaker part of the duo. “Thanks,” I say. “He likes all of you, too.”

“What’s not to like?” It comes out flirtatious, of course, but then, it’s Tennyson. I notice Yolanda stiffening, similar to when Wyatt mentioned Tennyson’s name. It brings me back to the end of the block party, all those noncouples seeming to couple, just for a moment. Then it was over so quickly, I thought maybe I’d imagined it.

“The way Doug dotes on you and Sadie is so beautiful,” Raquel says. “And he’s such a good listener. And a good talker. Really, where did you find him?”

“Online,” I say. “It was efficient, but it makes for a crap story.” They all smile.

“Wyatt and I met in a bar,” Yolanda says. “That’s not much better.”

“And you all know where I met Vic.” Tennyson grins. “Just around the neighborhood.”

It feels like an in-joke. For my benefit, she adds, “We used to live around the corner from each other. I was on Overlook, and he was on Tremont. Do you know that intersection?” I indicate no. “So, his marriage was tanking, and mine was, too, and we found each other.”