Starting from Square Two (27 page)

“What?”

“You heard me.
Family Ties
or
Simpsons?
”

“Simpsons.”

“You chose wrong. That's Gen Y. Gen X's frame of family-show reference is
Family Ties.
”

Gert leaned her head on the side of the car. She was tired, but still wouldn't let herself nod off.

“Do another one,” Todd said to Hallie.

“Reagan or Clinton.”

“Clinton. Who wouldn't say Clinton?”

“Clinton,” Cat said.

“Clinton,” Gert said.

“Okay,” Hallie said. “So that one wasn't fair. I'll come up with a better one. Madonna or Britney.”

“Madonna,” Todd said. “See? I'm definitely X.”

“Pac-Man or Pokémon?”

“Pac-Man.”

“Rugrats or Smurfs?”

“Smurfs.”

“Nintendo or Atari?”

Todd paused. “Well, that one isn't really fair, because…”

“You're out,” Hallie said, sitting back in her seat, satisfied.

“No I'm not!”

“You're out.”

“Gert,” Todd said. “Isn't that one not fair…?”

Gert took his hand. “You're out, sweetie,” she said. “Nintendo is for kid brothers.”

When they eased off I-95 and onto country roads, Gert looked out at the sky. Many more stars were out than at home and it made her miss the suburbs for a minute.

People looked down on the suburbs, but sometimes Gert really missed that way of life. She couldn't go back there now; she'd be too lonely if she was surrounded by all married people and kids. But she had always assumed she'd go back someday, to raise a family.

Gert looked at Todd. He was leaning against the window, gazing drowsily ahead.

“I'm not sure where we go from here,” Hallie said.

That makes two of us,
Gert thought.

“There's a gas station ahead,” Cat said.

“I can get directions,” Todd offered.

They pulled into a gas station and Todd headed for the brightly lit box in the middle of the island. The store looked like a sitting duck for anyone with a gun in the middle of the night. Gert worried as she watched him disappear into it.

When Todd came back, he had both directions and coffee.

“My hero,” Gert whispered to him when he slid back in, and then she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Okay,” Todd said. “Here's where we need to go….” He navigated, like a good conductor.

They passed fancy houses with three stories and ample lawns. Hallie said they should have been golf courses, not front yards.

“No wonder Erika's jealous of Challa,” Hallie said.

Gert thought she could understand it, looking around.

“What a life,” Hallie said.

 

The police station was so small it could have been a fast-food joint. On one side of the parking lot, the slanted spaces were filled with police cars, and their lines reflected in bright white.

Hallie led the way into the building. They pushed through the two glass doors that fronted the station's tiny square lobby. The reception window was empty.

Hallie pressed a buzzer.

A woman's leathery face appeared in the window. “Yes?”

“We're here to post bail for Erika Dennison,” Gert said.

The woman disappeared without saying anything. A male cop's face appeared. “Who you here for?”

How many people could they possibly have in lock-up at the Darien jail? “Dennison,” Gert said.

The cop opened the door. “Downstairs,” he said.

As he walked them down, he said, “You know, your friend ought to get some counseling.”

“We know,” Hallie said.

Another cop came out, and the first one said, “There's something wrong with that girl.”

“She's been through a lot lately,” Todd said. “Why don't you think about that before jumping to conclusions?”

Gert watched Hallie look at Todd. Hallie looked surprised—even grateful.

They waited by the desk. Soon, Erika came toward them down the hall. Gert had never seen her without makeup, even at sleepovers. Then, Gert noticed something else: Erika was the same height as she was.

Gert had always thought Erika was tall. But now, rattled, tired, in no makeup and no heels, Erika looked small and vulnerable.

Gert thought she looked more attractive this way. She was sure Erika wouldn't agree, but it was true. She didn't look as intimidating.

“Guys, please don't pass judgment,” Erika said. “I'll tell you what happened, but please don't pass judgment.”

“We won't,” Hallie said.

“I don't want
him
to pass judgment,” Erika said, pointing her thumb at Todd.

“He won't,” Hallie said.

They filled out the paperwork and walked outside.

 

“I'm hungry,” Erika said in the car.

“When did you eat last?” Hallie asked.

“I don't even know,” Erika said. “What time is it?”

“I think we passed a diner on the way,” Cat said.

“It was a mile back,” Todd said.

“Todd's our navigator,” Hallie said. She looked at Todd and smiled.

Gert was surprised. She was glad Hallie appreciated Todd. And she was glad she'd come, too. She'd been useful to them for a change.

Gert took Todd's hand. It occurred to her then that of the four women, she was the only one with a boyfriend there. The
only one to have someone to help get her through it. She felt sorry for Hallie and Erika—it
was
hard to get through things alone.

“We'll stop at the diner,” Hallie declared.

Erika noticed the coffee cups around the car. “How much coffee did you guys drink?” she asked.

“I don't know,” Hallie said. “We got coffee at a gas station, and some at a rest stop.”

“I used to think Connecticut didn't have rest stops,” Erika said.

“I thought so, too,” Hallie said. “Isn't there some state that doesn't have rest stops?”

“Vermont might not,” Cat said.

“Vermont doesn't have billboards,” Todd said.

“Maybe it doesn't have rest stops, either,” Hallie said.

“It has rest stops,” Todd said. “No billboards.”

“How do you know?” Cat asked.

“We could use a billboard to tell us where this diner is,” Gert said. But then she saw it.

 

At the diner, a tired-looking waitress met them at the brown Please Wait to Be Seated sign. There were only three other people in the joint: A man with gray hair and ripped pants—Gert was reminded that somehow, poor people ended up in rich towns, too—and across the aisle from him, a handsome Indian kid of about twenty who was staring at a pretty woman with skinny glasses. Gert wondered if they were on a date, or married, or something else.

The five of them sat at a table and Erika folded her napkin and wiped her eyes. She looked like she was about to start sobbing. “I just…” she said.

“You don't have to explain,” Hallie said.

“I want to,” Erika said. “I
want
to explain.”

Maybe she would, Gert thought. Maybe they would talk about something real, like their feelings. Like friends should.

The waitress returned, and Cat ordered rice pudding. The rest of them just asked for coffee.

“So what happened?” Hallie asked.

Erika wiped her eyes again. “I was on the Web site again.”

“I
told
you…” Hallie said.

“I know.” She took a gulp of water. “It's gotten to the point where sometimes I don't even feel like I can sleep at night unless I've checked to see if there's anything there. When I remember everything that's happened in my life, everything I've lost, a pain just sears through my body. I need to know what's going on in his life. I can't help it.”

Gert looked at the Indian guy and the girl. They were having a pretty intense talk. Maybe one of them wanted to be more than friends, and the other didn't. Dating was hard. She certainly knew that now. It had been fun in college—but the stakes hadn't been so high.

“After my father had the heart attack and I went back to New York, I was on the Internet until 3:00 a.m. every night,” Erika said. “I was just looking for something to feel better.”

Gert recognized this syndrome.

“I couldn't help but wonder if, even a little bit, Ben missed me,” Erika said. “How could he forget all the years we spent together? They were great years. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life wondering about what could have been. I couldn't make the same mistake twice, if there was a chance. I had to at least
see
Ben. I had to
know….
”

“What did you think would happen?” Hallie asked.

Erika shrugged. “I don't know,” she said. She fidgeted with the paper from her straw. “I don't feel right being completely shut out of his life. But I guess there's no proper way for me to be in it.”

Gert felt the same way about wanting to be in Marc's family.

“I know all of you think I should just move on,” Erika said. She looked at Gert and Todd. “I know you do. But you know what? Ben and I had a bond. I can't help how I feel.”

“I know,” Gert said.

Erika kept focused on Gert. “The day he finally got his first
job, during college recruiting, right before graduation,” she said, “we went out and drank champagne. We came back to my room and conked out together. We loved celebrating everything. We couldn't come up with enough things to celebrate. I can't forget that. He has five years of my
his
tory.”

The waitress delivered their coffees, and they added sugar and cream. Todd didn't add anything. He had told Gert once that he drank a lot of black coffee on the train at night. It was something she knew about him. One of the idiosyncrasies she was getting used to. The kind of thing she'd miss if he was gone.

She tried not to think about that.

“When did you get here?” Hallie asked Erika.

“Around ten,” she said. “Ben told me to go away, that his family was sleeping. He wouldn't talk to me for even a second. He blocked the door. Like I'm
shit.
” She wiped her eyes. Her cheeks were still clammy-looking from her last cry. “And you know what the strange thing is?” she said. “I don't regret what I did tonight. Yes, I got caught, and yes, I'll get counseling, and yes, I can't
do
this stuff anymore. But I couldn't spend the rest of my life wondering. I had to do
some
thing.”

 

When they finally headed back in the wee hours, Gert was the only one awake, besides Cat. Todd was asleep in the middle of the back seat, with his head on Gert's shoulder. Hallie was on his right, leaning against the window, her mouth open a bit. Erika was sleeping up front. Gert still couldn't sleep.

Gert watched Erika sleeping. Erika looked peaceful, innocent, relaxed—for a change. Gert wondered if that's what Ben had thought when he watched Erika sleep, so many years ago.

Gert was reminded of something Chase had said at lunch the other day: When she and Gert had met their boyfriends, they had practically been kids. And so, Gert thought now, were Erika and Ben.

It was true that Erika had been the one to decide to break it off. But how could she have known the right thing to do
when she was only twenty-four? How could you be expected to always make all the right decisions for the rest of your life when you were less than a third of the way through it?

Gert felt lucky. She'd known she loved Marc. She couldn't have imagined breaking up with him. But how could she fault anyone for making such a decision? Even if one's early twenties were considered adulthood, with all the craziness in the world, you couldn't tell what might happen. You might change, the other person might change, the world might change. In your twenties, you might be afraid to commit to someone because it was for the rest of your life—but if you broke up, that might turn out to be for the rest of your life, too.

Gert thought of something else.

If this had been forty years ago, they all might have married their college sweethearts right after school. They wouldn't have put it off and deliberated on it, wondering whether to hold out for the perfect love. Erika and Ben might be married now, and Erika would not be living the life of uncertainty she was. Of course, right now she might be in a miserable marriage. Still, the pressure would be on her to make it work. The pressure would
not
be to hold out for the perfect person.

If Chase had married John right after college instead of just being his fiancée for years, she would have lost her husband, rather than someone she wasn't officially related to.

Gert had been sure, a year ago, that no one's pain could be like her own. Not Erika's. Definitely not Hallie's. Just a month and a half ago, Gert had been furious that Erika could remotely compare her situation to Gert's.

But maybe to Erika, her pain
was
just as gripping, Gert thought. Gert wondered if she was doing the same thing she accused others of—making assumptions about how someone else should feel. Besides missing Ben, Erika had to bear the burden of knowing she made a choice she regretted.

Who am I to decide,
Gert thought,
that Erika doesn't have the right to feel pain?

 

Erika stirred as they were nearing the big city. Gert watched her open her eyes. She looked scared for a second. Then she gazed around. Gert knew Erika was suddenly remembering everything that had happened tonight. It had to be a painful awakening. Gert had had many of those.

Cat noticed Erika waking up, too. She put the radio on low. It was neither Crappy the Clown nor Howard Stern, but a jazz station. A DJ with a mellow voice was speaking: “It looks like it's going to be cool today, but it's expected to finally warm up later in the week. And after such a rough winter, we could sure use it. But don't get too comfortable, friends. Forecasters say we could actually be in for a rare April snowstorm….”