Barbara thought with a smile, trying not to notice the round little bottom filling out the tight jeans, the small, high breasts that could only be described as perky. The young didn’t have to be beautiful, Barbara realized. It was enough they were young.
“Hi,” Amy said to Barbara’s reflection.
“You’re in my husband’s class,” Barbara said, straining to sound casual.
The girl shrugged. “Hmm.”
“He’s a good teacher,” Barbara continued, although the girl was clearly not interested in pursuing a conversation.
Amy returned her brush to her floppy black leather bag. “The best,” she said, her eyes connecting briefly with Barbara’s in the mirror, lingering a beat too long, as if issuing a silent challenge. And then she was gone, out the door with her long brown hair flying after her, her bag slapping at her side.
Barbara remained in front of the row of sinks for several more minutes, trying not to think of what her unexpected arrival might have interrupted, trying notto think at all. Sometimes it was better not to think. Thinking only got you in trouble. The dumber you were, the happier you were, she decided, applying blush to newly ashen cheeks. Once again, she adjusted her blouse and straightened her skirt. Then she waited until her breathing returned to normal, took one last look in the mirror, and stepped out into the hall to find her husband.
Four
C hris heard the doorbell ring, thought about answering it, decided it was better just to let it ring. Tony would answer it, tell her friends she was busy, that she’d call them later. Except that when later came around, she’d probably be busy with something else, and then it would be too late to call them back, and another day would pass, and then another. Lately a whole week could go by without her seeing or even speaking to her friends. She’d missed Susan’s birthday lunch, begged off shopping with Barbara, turned down Vicki’s latest invitation to dinner. Here it was halfway through September, and they’d gotten together what … three times since June? They used to speak every day. Nothing important. (“Hi, just checking in. I’m going to the store. You need anything?”) Stuff like that. (“Wait till you hear what Ariel did yesterday.” “You should have seen how cute Tracey looked in her new outfit.” “Kirsten says day camp sucks.”) The stuff of everyday life. (“Talk to you later.” “Wait till youhear this.” “Call me tomorrow.”) The stuff that kept you sane.
(“I love you.”)
I love you too.
When had she stopped returning their calls? When had she become too busy to see her friends?
She heard Tony at the front door. “Well, hello, girls. This is a pleasant surprise.”
And then three voices speaking at once. “Where is she?” “We won’t take no for an answer.” “Chris, get your ass down here.”
“I’ll be right there,” Chris called down the stairs, her heart thumping as she hurried into her bedroom and checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I look okay,” she assured herself, pulling a comb through her shoulder-length hair, securing it into a ponytail with a purple scrunchy. She exchanged the stained gray sweats she’d been wearing the last two days for a pair of white cotton slacks, replaced the faded yellow T-shirt she had on with a pale lavender clone. Why the fuss? she wondered. Where was she going? Just downstairs to say hello.
“Chris, what the hell are you doing up there?” Vicki yelled up the stairs.
“Be right down.” Chris didn’t move. Maybe if enough time elapsed, they’d get tired of waiting and go away.
“I’m counting to ten, then I’m coming upstairs,” Barbara warned.
Chris took one last glance in the mirror, then rushed into the hall. She appeared at the top of the steps just as Barbara was starting her climb.
“There she is!” Barbara announced with delight. “She’s real. She exists. We didn’t just make her up.”
In the next instant
“Hi,” Amy said to Barbara’s reflection.
“You’re in my husband’s class,” Barbara said, straining to sound casual.
The girl shrugged. “Hmm.”
“He’s a good teacher,” Barbara continued, although the girl was clearly not interested in pursuing a conversation.
Amy returned her brush to her floppy black leather bag. “The best,” she said, her eyes connecting briefly with Barbara’s in the mirror, lingering a beat too long, as if issuing a silent challenge. And then she was gone, out the door with her long brown hair flying after her, her bag slapping at her side.
Barbara remained in front of the row of sinks for several more minutes, trying not to think of what her unexpected arrival might have interrupted, trying notto think at all. Sometimes it was better not to think. Thinking only got you in trouble. The dumber you were, the happier you were, she decided, applying blush to newly ashen cheeks. Once again, she adjusted her blouse and straightened her skirt. Then she waited until her breathing returned to normal, took one last look in the mirror, and stepped out into the hall to find her husband.
Four
C hris heard the doorbell ring, thought about answering it, decided it was better just to let it ring. Tony would answer it, tell her friends she was busy, that she’d call them later. Except that when later came around, she’d probably be busy with something else, and then it would be too late to call them back, and another day would pass, and then another. Lately a whole week could go by without her seeing or even speaking to her friends. She’d missed Susan’s birthday lunch, begged off shopping with Barbara, turned down Vicki’s latest invitation to dinner. Here it was halfway through September, and they’d gotten together what … three times since June? They used to speak every day. Nothing important. (“Hi, just checking in. I’m going to the store. You need anything?”) Stuff like that. (“Wait till you hear what Ariel did yesterday.” “You should have seen how cute Tracey looked in her new outfit.” “Kirsten says day camp sucks.”) The stuff of everyday life. (“Talk to you later.” “Wait till youhear this.” “Call me tomorrow.”) The stuff that kept you sane.
(“I love you.”)
I love you too.
When had she stopped returning their calls? When had she become too busy to see her friends?
She heard Tony at the front door. “Well, hello, girls. This is a pleasant surprise.”
And then three voices speaking at once. “Where is she?” “We won’t take no for an answer.” “Chris, get your ass down here.”
“I’ll be right there,” Chris called down the stairs, her heart thumping as she hurried into her bedroom and checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I look okay,” she assured herself, pulling a comb through her shoulder-length hair, securing it into a ponytail with a purple scrunchy. She exchanged the stained gray sweats she’d been wearing the last two days for a pair of white cotton slacks, replaced the faded yellow T-shirt she had on with a pale lavender clone. Why the fuss? she wondered. Where was she going? Just downstairs to say hello.
“Chris, what the hell are you doing up there?” Vicki yelled up the stairs.
“Be right down.” Chris didn’t move. Maybe if enough time elapsed, they’d get tired of waiting and go away.
“I’m counting to ten, then I’m coming upstairs,” Barbara warned.
Chris took one last glance in the mirror, then rushed into the hall. She appeared at the top of the steps just as Barbara was starting her climb.
“There she is!” Barbara announced with delight. “She’s real. She exists. We didn’t just make her up.”
In the next instant
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