A wide smile breaks out across his face, and I know I’ve said the right thing. I’m relieved and terrified at the same time.
THIRTY-TWO
Quan
The street where Anna’s parents live is so crowded that I have to park a block away and walk. Someone is having a party.
Normally, I wouldn’t mind. I’d enjoy stretching out my legs and imagining people having a good time. But tonight, all I can think about is how badly I need to see Anna. I feel like shit, and there’s only one thing right now that can make this better. Her.
I need her in my arms. I need to breathe her in.
As I get close to her house, however, I see that the driveway is packed with cars. The party is here.
Two things occur to me at once: First, this must be her dad’s birthday party. Second, she didn’t invite me.
That definitely feels like a stab to the gut, but I tell myself it’s okay. I get it. I need to work harder at winning her family over. But how the hell am I supposed to do that if she doesn’t invite me to stuff like this? I should be in there buttering up the old folks, making golf dates with anyone who plays, and becoming best friends with her cousins. Most important, I should be at Anna’s side.
But I’m not. I’m out here while she’s in there.
I slow to a stop in front of her neighbor’s house and debate turning around and going home like a reject, but that’s when I hear her sister.
“Thanks for helping me get my dad into his chair, Faith.” There are trees and bushes in the way, so I can’t see her clearly, just a glimpse of her profile as she lifts a cigarette to her mouth. The smoke blows directly my way, and I suppress a cough.
“No problem,” replies Faith, who’s completely hidden from view. “It was easy with that Hoyer Lift device. I never saw one of those before today.”
“Easy, yeah, but you definitely need two people. I didn’t want to ask Anna. She’s been so airheaded lately that she might have dropped him,” Priscilla says, and there’s a bite in her tone that makes me stiffen. I have to clench my teeth together to keep myself from defending Anna.
“You’re so tough on her,” Faith says, and I want to hug her in gratitude.
“Maybe I am, but I expect a lot from people. You don’t think I’m tough on myself, too?” Priscilla asks.
“I know you’re toughest on yourself.”
Priscilla’s hand lifts, and the end of her cigarette flares ember red as she draws on it. A fresh cloud of smoke wafts my way. “I quit my job while I was in New York.”
“What? Why? I thought you loved your job.”
“I’ve been due for a promotion for three years, and they just gave it to this new guy who took over my projects while I’ve been here. I had to fly to New York to fix his problems, and they promoted him over me. Fuck them. I might sue.”
“That’s horrible,” Faith says. “I can’t even imagine that on top of everything else you’re going through. Have you ever thought of trying therapy?”
Priscilla laughs bitterly. “Yeah, right. Anna went to therapy and now she thinks she’s autistic. What a load of crap. Not for me, thanks.”
There’s a pause before Faith muses, “Anna might be autistic?”
Priscilla makes a scoffing sound. “No.”
“I don’t know. She was such a weird kid, so quiet. I don’t think she had a single friend when—”
“I’m not listening to this,” Priscilla says.
“Oh, come on, you don’t think—” Something drops and shatters into pieces on the sidewalk directly in my line of sight. “Crap.”
Instead of running away to avoid being seen—the hell with that—I step forward. “Need help with that?”
Priscilla and this Faith whom I’ve never met jump in surprise.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say.