“I must say that that was certainly a bust,” Madison said, still digging inside her bag.
“A bust?” Leslie asked, looking at her hands. She had paint under her nails.
“Yes.” Madison sounded impatient. “We went there to have our fortunes told, and we got zip. Really, the woman ought to be stopped.”
Ellie and Leslie were looking at Madison as though she’d lost her mind, but Madison didn’t see them. She was still rummaging in her bag. “Good heavens!” Madison said. “Where did these filthy things come from?” She was holding up a pack of cigarettes between her thumb and forefinger, and holding them away from her body as though she might be contaminated by them.
It was that gesture that brought Ellie and Leslie out of their own thoughts. Both of them were now looking at Madison—really, really looking at her.
Was it their imagination that she didn’t seem as thin as she had been a day ago? Or was it just that there was now a look of health about her? She wasn’t gray-looking, as she had been. And there was something about her eyes . . .
“You’re pretty again,” Ellie said.
Madison laughed. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re not bad yourself.”
“No, I’m—” Ellie had been about to say that she was fat, but as she looked down at herself, her clothes seemed to be looser on her.
“Look at this thing?!” Madison said, holding up the bag. “I can’t find anything I own in it, and it must have cost all of five dollars, and—” She broke off as she looked down at her clothes. “Could someone please tell me what is going on? Why am I wearing these cheap clothes and where is my cell phone? Ellie, could I borrow yours?”
Ellie was watching Madison with wide eyes because it was as though she were seeing movie special effects take place in front of her. Only this was no movie, this was real life. Years seemed to be sliding off Madison. She looked older than she did when they’d met each other nineteen years ago, but now she no longer looked beat-up by life. Now there was a light that shone in Madison’s eyes, and light seemed to illuminate her skin from beneath it.
“I don’t have a cell phone,” Ellie said softly. “I’ve never liked telephones.”
“I know,” Madison said, looking at Ellie with exaggerated patience. “You told us you’d always hated them. But you said that after you had a child, you wanted to be in contact with him at all hours of the day.”
“Child?” Ellie said, her eyes blinking blankly.
Madison looked from Ellie to Leslie, then back again. “What is wrong with you two? Did that charlatan tell you something dreadful? Is that why the two of you are acting like zombies?”
“Child,” Ellie said again.
Madison bent down so her nose was close to Ellie’s. “Yes, child. You have a two-year-old son. You and your second husband, Jessie, had a baby.”
“Jessie,” Ellie said, her eyes wide. At the moment, the memory of her life with Martin was so clear in her mind that she could hardly remember her time with Jessie. But the mention of his name was making her remember. “Nate,” she said. “Nathaniel.” She looked at Leslie in wonder. “I have a son named Nathaniel and I am married to Jessie Woodward.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Leslie whispered; then she put her arms around Ellie and hugged her. “So very, very happy for you.”
“What is it that I’m missing?” Madison asked impatiently. “And could we go somewhere and get something to eat? I’m starving. I feel like treating myself to some rich, gooey dessert.” She narrowed her eyes at both of them. “But if either of you tell Thomas, I’ll deny it. He is fed up with hearing me complain about every pound I gain.”
“Weight?” Ellie said. “You gain weight?”
“We can’t all be like you and forget to eat.”
With wide eyes, Ellie looked down at herself. It couldn’t be possible, but her clothes seemed to be even more loose on her than they had been a few minutes ago.
But Madison wasn’t aware of having said anything unusual. “I don’t know why you don’t remember this. We had this conversation only last night. You said that you and I have opposite metabolisms. You said that the happier you are the thinner you are. You said that if you ever got really depressed, you’d probably be the size of a house. Then I said that I was the opposite, that happiness makes me eat. I said that if I were ever unhappy, I’d probably weigh eighty pounds.”
“That’s right,” Ellie said. “I would and you would. And we did.”
Madison looked at Leslie as though to ask if Ellie were losing her marbles.
“I think we should all sit down and have something to eat,” Leslie said. “And I think we should hear Madison’s life story.”
“But I told you two everything the first night we were here,” Madison said. “I distinctly remember telling you about modeling in New York, about meeting Thomas at Columbia, and about getting my degree in—”
“No!” Ellie said loudly. “You must tell a story in the correct order.”
“Yes,” Madison said, smiling, obviously glad that Ellie remembered something. “You told us that you can’t tell the punch line before you tell the joke. If you remember that, why don’t you remember the other things you said?”