The All You Can Dream Buffet (38 page)

Sitting at her gate, eating a pretzel, she watched them stream by and wondered where she would go if her next plane was her choice. Would she fly to Madrid? Hong Kong? New York City?

On the second plane, she tried to sleep, but despite the lowered lights and the sleepiness of the passengers around her, she couldn’t slip away from the depression that crept closer and closer with every mile they flew east. It had taken her nearly a week to drive to Oregon, and all of it was gone in a day. Erased.

As they taxied to the gate in Wichita, Ginny listened to her voice messages, three of them. The first was from Christie, who wanted to know if she was there yet. The second was from Ruby, who said, “Hi, Ginny. I have some news. Please call me when you have a chance. It’s important.”

The third was from Jack. “I reckon I shouldn’t call you, but I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been thinking about last night all day. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I hope the feeling is mutual. I’m turning in for the night, but call tomorrow if you want. I’d love to hear your voice.”

She played it three times, her face turned toward the window so that she could hide the tears. She couldn’t stop crying! It was as if she was crying three tears for every one she’d never shed over the years, as if something in her was melting.

The regional airport was small. It smelled like Kansas the minute she stepped off the plane—humid air and sweat and the promise of a thunderstorm later on and the dusty fragrance of wheat growing.

Her mother was waiting under the fluorescents, and at the sight of her, Ginny wanted to turn around and run away. Her mother’s face was hard, her too-long graying hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Hey, Mom,” she said. “Thanks for picking me up.”

Ula gave her a surprisingly heartfelt hug. “I’m so glad you’re here, sweetie. I’ve been worrying about you every day.”

“I’ve been fine. I’ve had a great time, honestly.” She shifted her backpack a little and walked with her mother toward the doors. “How’s Matthew?”

“Not good, Ginny. Really upset about everything.”

“I don’t mean about the divorce.”

“Well, why do you think he wrecked his car?”

Ginny took a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe it was an accident.”

“It was because he was distraught! He loves you! He’s always been a wonderful provider and a good, kind man to you. You’re outta your mind if you leave him.”

“Stop,” Ginny said, and halted right in the middle of the
hallway. “I’m here to see if I can be of use, and I’m trying to be a decent person, but I don’t want you all over me.”

Ula shrugged. “Fine.”

They drove to the hospital in silence. Wind blew in through the open windows of the car, bringing the smell of cow dung and pond water. Ginny tried not to think of the high thin air in Colorado or the soft purple glory of the Columbia River Valley. Tears rose in her eyes again, and she blinked them away.

Over.

The adventure was over. She was back home, back in Kansas, and somehow, she didn’t know how, they would trap her here.

“You go on in, honey,” Ula said in the corridor outside Matthew’s room.

Ginny hesitated. The television was turned on, and the light fell in a blue wash over the body in the bed. For a moment she felt as if she couldn’t breathe, that if she walked through the doorway, she’d be squashed flat.

But she made herself step into the room. “Hi, Matthew,” she said quietly. “How are you doing?”

His neck was in a brace, and his face was battered. One arm was in a purple cast, but his legs were beneath the covers, only his feet sticking out, and they were encased in some contraption. “Ginny?” he croaked. “That you?” The words were slurred through fat lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.” She stepped up to the side of the bed and took his free hand.

“Baby, thank you for coming back. I was such a fool. Such a fool.” Tears streamed out of the corners of his eyes, a wrenching sight, and it nearly made her cry again, too. “I have a concussion, did they tell you?”

Ginny’s throat tightened. She wanted to say,
I’m not back, not
like you think,
but it seemed unnecessarily unkind. In a day or two she could tell him the truth. “Yeah. Broken arm, too, huh?”

“Yeah.” He gripped her hand. “Now that you’re back, though, things will work out okay, won’t they? We’ll just talk things out. We’ve been married a long time. We gotta keep trying.”

The room was too warm, too humid. She felt herself shrinking, fading, growing thinner, and it made her dizzy.

But she found she did not have enough cruelty in her to dash his hopes while he lay broken in a bed, hungry for love and reassurance. The mother in her put a hand on his head. “Sleep. We don’t have to talk about anything right now.”

Her mother drove her home to Dead Gulch, a twenty-minute drive, and it was only as Ula pulled in to the driveway that Ginny realized she was stranded. Her Jeep was back at the farm, and Matthew had totaled his car. “Can somebody lend me a car?”

“I’ll come get you in the morning, hon,” her mom said. “Eight o’clock too early?”

“No. But you don’t have to drive me around. I’ll rent a car if nobody has one to lend me. I’d rather do that, honestly.”

“Don’t be silly. No point in spending all that money when you’ve got family to do things for you.”

Exhausted, Ginny didn’t argue. “All right, I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“We can get you to the grocery store, too, at some point. You know men—they never shop. He’s probably been living on pizza and Chinese since you left.”

“I don’t need to go to the store,” she said, getting out, and before her mother could insist, she slammed the door, waving as she strode to the garage and punched in the lock code on
the door. It clicked into motion, and Ginny ducked under, not waiting for it to rise all the way.

The house smelled of old food and a stagnant drain, and when Ginny flipped on the lights, she saw that Matthew had probably not done the dishes since she’d left nine days ago. They were piled in the sink and stacked without care along the counter. Her mother was right: She spied pizza boxes, some with dried-up pizza still inside, and the white boxes from the local Chinese. He’d at least rinsed those but hadn’t thrown them away.

Woodenly, she dropped her backpack on the floor and fetched a black trash bag from the cupboard. It took six minutes to throw away the boxes and load up the dishwasher and even wipe down the counter, another thirty seconds to take the trash out to the container beside the house. Maybe a full seven minutes, but Matthew had preferred to live with the mess. Feeling sorry for himself.

When she finished that, she scrambled a pair of eggs—thinking with longing of the fresh, fresh eggs at the farm—with a slice of American cheese, washed up, and headed for bed, trying to stave off the monster of depression stalking her. She was exhausted from so little sleep the night before. She missed her dog and her friendly little Airstream. She missed Ruby and Lavender and Valerie and even sulky Hannah.

She didn’t bother to go to their bedroom. The bed would not be made, and their bathroom would be a mess of discarded clothes and towels. Instead, she went to the guest room, stripped off her clothes, and crawled under the covers in the overly air-conditioned, deadly silent house. As she drifted off, she remembered that Ruby had called, but by then she was too far into her sleep to make the call. She would do it in the morning.

The Flavor of a Blue Moon

a blog about great food…

 

THE TRADITIONAL BELLINI

Blend and serve in champagne glasses.

RUBY’S NONALCOHOLIC BELLINI

Blend and serve cold.

Noah had carried Lavender into the house and laid her gently on the couch, then called the right people. Lavender—ever sensible—had given him all the information ages ago. He had the numbers of the funeral home she preferred, her lawyer, the relatives who would need to be notified. Ruby was cleaning the kitchen when she spied Hannah sliding in through the back door and into the living room.

Ruby turned silently, alert for signs of breakdown or overwhelming grief or hysteria.

But today Hannah wore her curly hair loose on her shoulders, and she was dressed in a pair of ordinary jeans and a T-shirt. She simply stood beside Lavender, head cocked, for long moments, then she looked over her shoulder. “Is it okay to touch her?”