Seven Days in June(64)

Grandma’s modeling jobs. Eva cringed, hearing Audre saying this in front of Shane. He knew better.

“It was a school in DC. I lived there my senior year. It was a long time ago, sweetie.” Eva got up and went to the counter, grabbing a banana. “Whew. I’m glad we settled that! Is anyone hungry? I have Toaster Strudel!”

“Mr. Hall, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” said Audre. “This was a lot for me. Mommy never hangs out with heterosexual men.”

“Not true,” said Eva, her mouth full of banana. “Heterosexual men love me.”

Audre spun around to face her. “Why haven’t you spoken since high school?”

“I’ve been busy with you, Audre. And Shane is always on the road.”

“But you’ve never mentioned knowing him.”

Audre said “him” like Shane didn’t have an actual name and wasn’t sitting right in front of her. Shane was being back-burnered, but he didn’t mind. He was just thrilled to be in Eva and Audre’s orbit.

“I just…Like I said, we moved a lot,” sputtered Eva. “My memories are a blur.”

HELP ME, she mouthed to Shane, behind Audre’s head.

He cleared his throat, and without really thinking, he called upon his only superpower. He told a story.

“You know what, Audre? Me and your mom’s friendship is hard to quantify in linear terms.”

Linear terms, thought Eva, impressed. I’m fascinated to see where this goes.

“This isn’t going to seem relevant, but years ago, I had a pet turtle. I was living in this little shack in Popoyo, a surfing town in Nicaragua. No one locks doors or anything. One morning, I woke up and there was a massive turtle in my bed.”

“How is that sanitary?” asked Eva.

“Shhh, Mom,” said Audre.

“Anyway, he chose me, and that was fucking that. I loved him instantly. And I took great care of him. I did all this research on what turtles like to eat, and twice a day, I’d make him tiny fruit salads with live crickets as garnish.”

“Gross!” Audre looked at Eva, delighted.

“Crickets were extremely his shit,” said Shane. “Anyway, he liked to follow me around, and since he moved so slowly, I walked really slowly so he could keep up. We would just shuffle around the house together, like geriatrics.”

“Hmm. Codependency,” said Audre. “Continue.”

“He was my little man, you know? I spoke to him in Spanish exclusively.”

“Why?” asked Audre.

“He was Nicaraguan,” he said simply.

“Hold on,” said Eva. “You speak Spanish?”

“Suficiente para hablar con una tortuga,” he said.

“You’re actually insane,” said Eva, chuckling.

Shane grinned, visibly proud of himself. “Anyway, one day I came home from surfing, and he was gone.”

“Where’d he go?” asked Audre.

“Off to chill with some other drunk writer, I guess. I was gutted. But then one day he came back. I dropped everything. This time he stayed for a good six months before he wandered off again.”

“Very slowly, I assume,” said Eva.

“In the back of my mind, I’m always low-key hoping I’ll run into him again.”

“Well. All will be revealed in the fullness of time,” mused Audre. “Mr. Hall, did it ever seem weird to you that you were so attached to a turtle?”

“It was weird. And, like you said, codependent.” Shane shrugged. “But I accepted it. He showed up one day, and we had an immediate friendship. We drifted in and out of each other’s lives, but we were attached, no matter what. Me and your mom are like that. We’ll always be friends, no matter how much time goes by.”

“I see. One second.” Without saying a word, Audre got up from the table and walked out of the room.

“What did I do?” he whispered to Eva.

“Wait for it,” Eva whispered back.

Thirty seconds later, Audre entered the kitchen in a new look. A sensible black sleeveless jumpsuit and horn-rimmed glasses with no prescription.

“Honey,” started Eva, “what is this outfit?”

“Doctorate in Psychology Realness,” she announced, and then slid back into her seat. “Mr. Hall, it’s clear from the turtle thing that you need therapy. Here’s my card. I can help you, if it’s okay with my mom.”

“It’s not okay,” said Eva. “Shane, whatever you do, don’t give her any money.”

“Can I at least ask a couple more questions?” Audre leaned over the table toward Shane, conspiratorially. “What was Mommy like in high school? Did she sign your yearbook? What clubs were you guys in?”

Shane folded his arms across his chest, thinking. “Honestly? She was the smartest girl I’d ever met. And fearless. She’d say anything that came to her head, like you.”

Audre brightened. “You think we’re alike?”

Shane glanced at Eva where she stood at the counter, watching them. Then he smiled at Audre. “Yeah, I do. A lot.”

“No, I was a misfit.” Eva settled back onto the bench, next to her daughter. She slid a glass of lemonade in front of Shane.

“We both were,” he said.