Learning to Swim(30)

“I think they put too much pepper in here,” Alice said, horrified.

“Then go get another plate,” I suggested.

Alice shook her head, just like I knew she would. Alice hated to waste food. One thing I learned from sharing so many meals with Alice was that I needed to finish whatever was on my plate. She wouldn't actually force-feed me, but if I didn't gobble everything up, she'd just look so upset that I'd will myself to finish. It was kind of confusing because my mother encouraged me to do just the opposite. “It's a great way to manage your weight,” Barbie had once said. “Don't deprive yourself of anything, just take two bites and throw the rest out.”

“I just can't get over the fact that our little Steffie is in love with Mora's boyfriend.” Doris shook her head and chomped down on a piece of broccoli. A tiny piece of it got caught in her dentures. “My, my, my.”

“I'm not in love with anyone's boyfriend.” I jabbed at my egg roll with my fork.

“I can't eat this,” Alice said as she began to cough. She tapped her chest and said, “It's so peppery, I can barely breathe.”

“Then go get something else,” I repeated, mildly annoyed. I mean, I knew Alice hated to waste food and all, but hello? Didn't she notice that I was getting the third degree? I could have used some assistance.

“I never understood what Keith saw in Mora in the first place,” Doris said. She spent a lot of time at Tippecanoe playing Yahtzee and gossiping with a group of widows Alice called the Gold Rush Girls (because they were around at the time of the gold rush—ha!).

“No one did,” Thelma added as she sipped on some wonton soup.

“Why did they put all that pepper in there?” Alice groaned. “They ruined it!”

Doris ignored Alice. “I say: Good for you!” she exclaimed.

Thelma applauded.

“For the last time,” I said. “It was a swim meet. Not an invitation to the prom.”

Everyone just stared at me. Everyone but Alice, who was still looking at her plate.

“If he asks me again, I'll go.” I took another bite of lo mein.

“Ifhe asks again,” Thelma said.

“What do you mean, if he asks?” I choked on a noodle.

“Well, you did turn him down,” Doris said. “And you know men. Their egos are—”

“Fragile,” Thelma interrupted.

I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe these wacky old broads were right. Maybe Keith would never ask me out again. Ever. “What do you think, Alice?” I asked. “Do you think he'll ask me out again?”

But Alice wasn't paying attention to me. She was fiddling with her chopsticks, looking as if she might cry.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I'm sorry, girls,” she mumbled. “But I think I'm going to go home.”

“But we haven't even played bingo yet!” I said.

“I know, but I…” She stopped and looked at me. “I'm just feeling a little tired tonight.”

“But Alice, it's bingo night,” I whined.

“You don't have to go home by yourself,” Doris said. “We can all go. We don't have to play bingo.”

I had turned down an opportunity to hang out with Keith for this?

“No,” Alice insisted. “Please stay and have fun. I'll be perfectly fine.” Then she turned to Thelma and said, “Would you mind driving Steffie home?”

“Maybe some more iced tea would perk you up,” I suggested helpfully to Alice.

She shot me a weak smile as she rose from the table. “Win a round for me tonight, okay? I'll see you tomorrow at work.”

As Alice walked out, I put down my fork, suffering from a sudden sense of déjà vu.

“What was that all about?” I asked Thelma.

Thelma just shrugged. “That's Alice for you.”

But that wasn't Alice. At least, not the Alice I knew. I was going through kind of a hard time here. I needed her. Why would she just up and leave because she was feeling tired? And suddenly I realized where all that déjà vu was coming from. This was something Barbie would have done.

“Well,” Doris said in a forced cheery voice. “Should we check out the desserts before we go?” But even though they had some really good-looking trifle desserts (I loved vanilla pudding and I loved yellow cake— especially when they were mixed together), I had only one serving.

After dinner, the three of us piled into Thelma's fancy schmancy black Lincoln sedan and drove to the bingo hall. It definitely was not as good as being with Keith, but as I had mentioned, I liked bingo. Each player donated one dollar to the winner's till, and there were always at least a hundred people, so this was serious business. I'd had amazing luck and had won five games out of the twenty we'd played.

The three of us staked out a spot as the ladies talked about Roy Gilroy, the bingo director. A small man with a walrus mustache, Roy was the Keith McKnight of the Alice generation. Roy took his seat on a director's chair and began pulling letters out of the big black box in front of him. When Alice, Doris, Thelma, or I won, it was a big deal, but if we lost, it was a really big sucktastic deal. And wouldn't you know it, we lost. Every single one of us.