None of the Above(61)

As I got up to leave, Jessica looked at her watch. “We’ve got another twenty minutes for lunch.”

“I’m just running to the bathroom,” I said. And I did go to the restroom, but instead of going into a stall I stood at the sink and looked at myself. I stared at my Adam’s apple. My jawline. I held up my wrist and examined the bone structure. I wondered if Caster Semenya ever got questioned for using women’s restrooms.

Staff filtered in for the end-of-lunch rush, and I left. Instead of going back to the break room, I went to the waiting area, which was just starting to fill up. No older kids yet, just a baby in a car seat. So I picked up a bit. From inside the play tent I watched for a pair of Converses. Only after I saw them go by and exit into the hallway did I head back to the exam rooms to help with turnover.

I did a quick calculation on the way there. I’d worked the clinic two full Saturdays, and five weekday nights. That gave me almost thirty of the sixty hours I needed for my community service requirement. If I just pushed through and volunteered like crazy during the holidays, when Jessica and Darren were less likely to be there anyway, I would fulfill my requirement and get out of everyone’s hair.

I grabbed my coat to go home as soon as Dr. Johnson saw her last patient. Jessica, who was helping Dr. Johnson finish up her paperwork, waved me down as I went by.

“Hey, Kristin. A bunch of us are going to see the new James Bond movie and maybe hang out afterward. Quincy. Darren and my sister, some other people too. Wanna come?”

It was nice of her, but every bone in my body screamed no. I wasn’t ready for something that public. And if I was perfectly honest with myself, I would rather eat iron filings than spend a night watching Darren Kowalski making out in the back row of a movie theater with his adorable girlfriend.

“Sorry, but I’ve got plans with my dad. Rain check?”

“’Kay.” Unlike Gretchen, Jessica took no for an answer.

I trudged out in the December chill and sat for a while in my car while it warmed up. My evening stretched out in front of me like a desert, not an oasis in sight. My stomach rumbled, and I dug out an old PowerBar from my glove compartment.

The thought of having to cook dinner depressed me, so I called in some pizza. One meat lover’s for my dad, one broccoli and spinach for me. You can tell something’s a true comfort food when you feel better just having ordered it.

There are probably dozens of pizzerias in Utica, but Tony’s Pizza had always been my mom’s favorite because she had gone to high school with the owner’s son. She was loyal like that, even though Tony’s pies were a little more expensive and had fewer topping choices. Once she passed away, my dad and I kept ordering from Tony’s because to switch to another pizzeria seemed a betrayal of her principles even greater than buying 1 percent milk instead of skim, or not going to church.

It being Saturday, the pies weren’t ready when I swung by Tony’s on the way home. So I stood reading the ads and business cards posted on a corkboard by the front door, marveling that Utica could support so many dog walkers and tarot-card readers. As the minutes passed, more and more people came trickling in and I moved closer to the dining room to give them space. Okay, I’ll be honest—to give me space.

Just as I went to the counter to ask how much longer my pizza would take, a loud crash and an even louder curse burst from the dining room. Along with everyone else, I rubbernecked, and saw Rashonda Glenn sprawled on the ground in a shower of broken glass.

I knelt down to help her round up the shards.

“Shonda, you okay?” I asked, even though I knew she would be. Rashonda wasn’t a hurdler, but she was a long jumper, which made her almost as tough.

“Sh . . . sugar.” She grimaced. “Hey, Krissy. I’m fine. It’s my paycheck that’s gonna be hurting when I have to pay for these glasses. That’s if I’m lucky and my manager didn’t hear me yell the F word in his family restaurant.”

“You could just tell him you were yelling fork,” I offered.

“Yeah, if he buys that I’ll get you a drink.” She shooed me away when she heard the pickup people call my name. “Go. Your order’s done. I’m fine here. Thanks, and get your butt back to the team soon.”

I felt a flush of warmth, and stood up smiling.

That’s when I saw Sam.

He saw me too, and his eyes darted away like he’d been burned. And I felt like I’d been scorched by his gaze as well. Was there a hint of guilt when he looked at me? Despite how much it hurt, I couldn’t avert my eyes from the sight of Sam sitting at a cozy two-person table with Stephanie Peterson, head of the football boosters club. The only thing that would’ve been more cliché was if she were a cheerleader.

Sam mumbled something into his drink and Stephanie swiveled around in my direction, her eyebrows raised in a perfectly plucked arch. If Sam’s eyes seared, then Stephanie’s gaze chilled me with its detached curiosity. I could’ve been a zoo animal, or a fish in an aquarium—she didn’t see me, and really only bothered staring for a few seconds before she smirked and turned back to her salad.

Rashonda stood up after picking up the worst of the glass. She took my arm gently, angled me away from Sam’s table, and nudged me toward the front door. “Your pies are ready, Krissy. You know they aren’t any good once they get cold.”

I closed my eyes and held them shut, as if I could press the restart button on my brain, and nodded.