Authors: Tara McTiernan
They reviewed their plans for later that evening, going over them step by step, and Lucie placed her order for a glass of wine just before Chelsea walked through the door. A loud wolf whistle was heard, perhaps one of the regulars, and the spotlight that had briefly centered on Sharon earlier now blared down on Chelsea, who was wearing a clingy pink dress and mile-high silver strappy heels. She was obviously enjoying the attention, striking a pose in the doorway as she scanned the restaurant for the girls. Then she spotted them, gleefully smiled, and jogged in little baby steps across the the bar toward their booth. The men at the bar turned around completely on their stools and craned their necks to follow her progress.
Arriving at their table, Chelsea squealed, "Hi! Oh, my God! I love this place!"
"Hmmm," Sharon said, shaking her head slowly, "I wonder why?"
Lucie laughed at Sharon and announced, "Guess what? I can walk again! No more crutches!"
"Oh! Congrats! That's so exciting!" Chelsea said, sliding into the booth on Sharon's side.
While they caught up, Sharon's gaze was constantly drawn back to her phone. Why hadn't Alan called her back? He had to have heard the phone ring?
Kate arrived then and she looked much more like the old Kate, the one Sharon remembered from the first night they met at Ibiza wearing jeans and a too-loose top. Gone was the heavy makeup, gone were the unflattering dresses, and almost gone was the crazy hair. Now her hair was growing out, her natural blond taking over, the purplish ends looking like leftovers from a punk-rocker costume. She was also visibly shrunken and tired-looking as she crossed the room to them.
"Hi?" Kate said, sliding in next to Lucie. "Sorry I'm late. Where's Bianca? Is she late, too?"
"Well, not exactly," Sharon said, picking up her martini and taking a grateful sip. She needed a little Dutch courage as she had held off on mentioning this little detail to Kate on purpose. Kate was so enamored with Bianca she might have refused to come if Bianca wasn't invited, and Sharon needed Kate there, had an important question that only Kate could answer.
"What? Is she okay? Oh, I should call her? I've been so busy. I'm such a terrible friend?" Kate said, reaching for her purse.
Sharon put her hand up. "No, no, don't call her. I didn't invite her."
"Why not?"
"Well, I wanted to talk to you guys," Sharon said. She took a big breath and went for it. "Um, the truth is, I've been having these terrible feelings about Bianca. Now, wait, don't look like that, Kate. Seriously, I'm worried, and I just wanted to get some feedback from all of you. There's something I thought I saw the other night."
"What night?" Chelsea was leaning in, eyes wide.
"Our night at The Vault."
"Really?" Lucie said, brows knitting. "Why didn't you say something to me? We talk about everything else."
Sharon sighed. "I thought it was my imagination."
"Well, maybe it was?" Kate said, shaking her head and blinking.
"I don't know. That's why I wanted to talk to you. You, in particular, Kate."
"Me?"
"Did you," Sharon said, and paused. How did you say this delicately? There was no way. "Did you feel anything, I mean, anyone push you?"
"Push me?" Kate said, jerking back.
"Yes, push you. If it happened you would have felt something, maybe on your back?"
"Are you saying," Lucie said. "That Bianca pushed Kate down those stairs? That you saw something?"
Kate's pale face flooded with color and shook her head violently. "No! No!"
Sharon leaned forward and reached for Kate's hands that were clenched on the edge of the table, but Kate pulled them away, pushing them into her lap. Sharon explained, "I just thought I saw something and-"
"How could you? Really?" Kate said. "What kind of friend are you? You're terrible! Bianca's the best kindest person I've met here; all she thinks about is other people and making them happy. You know, I thought you were like Mary, but you're not like Mary?" Kate looked around at the other girls' faces, her mouth trembling. "None of you are, are you? You're not my friends?"
"Of course we are," Lucie said, her voice sympathetic and soft. "You know that?"
"Yes, we are!" Chelsea said. "We love you, Kate. We're just-"
Kate jumped to her feet. "I can't talk to you right now. I'm just...I've got to go." Kate turned and practically knocked into the waitress who was bringing Chelsea's Alabama Slammer before letting out a screech and running from the bar.
Sharon sadly watched the door shut behind Kate and said, "Well,
that
went well."
Corona
Kate stormed out to her car, dizzy and buzzing all over with shocked anger. She climbed into her car, slammed her door in fury, and then burst into tears. It was too much. Everything was. She was trying so hard and in every way, pulling herself through her days by sheer will. She couldn't handle this, too.
Sharon's words echoed in her head, metallic and harsh like slamming lockers in a long polished hallway. "Did you feel anything, I mean, anyone push you?"
Kate shook her head, wiping at her eyes as the cloudburst of tears abated, and started the car. At least she had said exactly what she thought. How could Sharon think such a thing? Say such a thing? Bianca worried about Kate and looked out for her, was one of the most caring friends in the world. This thing that Sharon had suggested was impossible and utterly horrible to contemplate. It seemed that Kate's uneasiness about Sharon had been correct after all.
Pulling out of the parking lot, Kate took one last look at the small rundown bar and remembered how excited she'd been about going to a casual place for a change, one that reminded her of some of the neighborhood pubs she used to go to in Vermont with friends. She'd known exactly what to wear and felt at ease the minute she walked in the door and looked around at the working-class crowd. How quickly her comfort had disappeared. Well, she'd be home in a minute and find comfort there; surprise Grant who was probably eating the leftover stuffed pork chops and vegetables and reading one of his medical journals at the kitchen table.
She drove through town and then down the main street that connected with their small cul-de-sac. When she made the last turn onto their road, she remembered the warm pressure on her lower back that night at The Vault. It had to be from her new high heels; everyone knew that wearing heels compromised your spine. But it was just before she fell.
Kate shivered. Now look what Sharon had done? She had made Kate doubt Bianca, planted destructive questions in her mind. Kate decided as she pulled into their garage that she wasn't going to honor this whole mess with another thought. She hoped Sharon and the other girls would have the good grace not to mention it to her again and devastate what little remained of their friendship.
Getting out of her car and walking through the house, Kate put on her best cheerful face, calling out "Hi?" as she walked into the kitchen. Grant was just getting up from the table with his dirty plate, a medical journal splayed open on the table.
"What happened? I thought you were meeting the girls for drinks at O'Malley's?" Grant said, stopping where he stood and holding his plate and utensils in front of him.
"I was? We did? But...," Kate said and paused, not knowing how to explain. Grant had never warmed to Bianca and if she told him what Sharon said, it might alarm him, bring out the part of him she liked to call Papa Bear: scary in his utter protectiveness. Papa Bear might insist that Kate break off her friendship with Bianca, say that he knew all along that something was not quite right about her friend, and if Sharon said that she saw Bianca push Kate down those stairs, she might have. Actually, Papa Bear would go further, would have Bianca investigated, getting the law involved if he could. He would be unstoppable and unrelenting. Just the thought of how bad it could get terrified Kate. She told Grant everything, but she couldn't tell him about the outrageous accusation that Sharon had made: it would be inviting Papa Bear to come roaring in.
Instead, Kate swallowed and said, "I just had some cramps again. I know, it's probably fine, but I got nervous. I just didn't want to risk it. And besides, we'll see everyone at Bianca's next Saturday anyway."
"Oh, no. Are you okay?" Grant said, going to put his plate and utensils in the sink and then crossing the kitchen floor to where she stood, his hands going to her shoulders as he looked into her eyes.
Kate looked down and nodded, shame piercing her. She had never lied to Grant.
"Well, why don't you lie down on the sofa and I'll heat up some soup for you? Would you like that?"
"Oh, no, I'm okay. You're so wonderful?" Kate said, looking back up, tears threatening again.
"You're the wonderful one. I have to admit I'm glad you're back in the office full time. I know it's selfish, but I missed you."
"I missed you, too. Though I loved being at that school. I just..."
"You did the right thing. You're very brave, you know? I'm so proud you're my wife. And someday soon we'll have our own family. It'll happen, I promise you. Just...I know it," Grant said and wrapped his arms around her.
Just then the phone rang. Grant said in her ear, "Don't get it. Let's ignore everyone."
Kate shook her head and pulled back to look up at Grant. "It could be Bianca? I've been such a bad friend, never calling back? I just couldn't talk to anyone. But I should get it? Just in case?"
"Oh, Bianca," Grant said, rolling his eyes but smiling indulgently. "Okay, better get it."
Kate pulled away, and jogged two steps to grab up the phone just as it was about to go to voicemail. "Hello?"
"Katie? It's Dad."
"Dad? Oh, it's so good to hear from you! How is everything?"
"Everything's fine. How are you two doing?"
"Good? I'm back at work? I mean, at the office?"
"You're feeling well enough?"
"Fine, Daddy," Kate said wistfully, wishing her family and the farm were just down the road. If they were, this conversation would be held sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and a cake, or maybe a simple and small supper, her parents smelling sweet and soapy after the daily evening showers they took to wash away the dirt, dung, and sweat the farm coated them with.
The kitchen was the hub of the house and where any talk took place unlike the other common rooms: the living room was for stiff visits with strangers, the dining room, with its display of her mother's collection of antique china plates on the wall, was never used except for holidays, and the den was for television watching. Although the den was the most unlikely room for discussion as it was strongly frowned upon - a body
was
trying to watch something and relax - each room in the house discouraged the frank conversation that the big sunny yellow kitchen invited. Well, as frank as they got in her family, where a person was judged by what they did, not what they said.
"Good. Glad to hear it. David wanted to talk to you. Now, I told him not to bother you, that you're all grown up and having a family now, but he won't stop asking since he moved back home."
Kate gasped. "Moved back home? What happened? What about the group home?"
"They couldn't keep him. He wouldn't go to work. He's home now."
"Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry?"
"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. David has his problems; you know that better than most."
"But you and Mom can't handle him
and
the farm?"