Tapestry of Fortunes A Novel - By Elizabeth Berg Page 0,47
at the window, and if you’re still good-looking, I’m not coming out. I’ve got some problems in the hair department, lost the main attraction there. The mane attraction. I’ve got some problems in the physique department, too. Think I won’t elaborate too much there. Suffice it to say I know you’ve gotten older, but I’ve really gotten older.
When I go into the kitchen after having taken a shower, I find Lise at the kitchen table. Something looks strange about her, and then I realize it’s that she doesn’t have her glasses on.
I get some coffee and slide into the booth with her, and she says, “What do you think?”
“About what?”
She points to her face.
“You mean no glasses?”
“Contacts.”
“You got contacts?”
“Yesterday.” She pushes her plate toward me. “Want half of an English muffin?”
I take a bite of muffin, look at her more carefully. “You look good. But you look good with glasses, too.”
“I just thought, you know, when we were together, I didn’t wear glasses.”
She blows some air out of her cheeks. “You know, maybe I … I’m thinking of not going. It’s probably a bad idea.”
“No it isn’t.”
She looks sharply at me. “Do you really think you’re the one to decide that?”
I shrug. “Guess not.”
She gets up to refill her cup. “I’m sorry. It’s just that …” She turns around, leans against the counter with her arms crossed. “I mean, as of now we’re … cordial. And if I go to see him, I could do something that could screw things up and he could end up not talking to me at all.”
“Or you could make things better. At least in terms of your daughter.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t have to see him. You could just come along for the ride. It’ll be fun; we’ll stop at every funky thing we find. Nobody ever had a bad time on a road trip; it’s been well documented.”
“Yeah,” she says, but I can tell she’s not really listening.
“How about if you don’t decide about seeing him just yet? See how you feel when we get closer. You’ve taken time off from work for a vacation; take a vacation.”
Riley hears the newspaper land on the front porch and runs to the door, barking. “Riley, NO BARK!” Lise yells, and runs to get him. “I don’t want him to wake up Renie,” she tells me, pulling him into the room with us.
“I don’t know if he’ll wake her up. You might.”
“I wish she were coming,” Lise says. “She was up late last night, I heard her banging around in her room and then she went downstairs for a while. I think she’s really conflicted.”
“Maybe we should make noise,” I say. “What if she wakes up later and wishes she’d come with us?”
“I don’t know.”
“Joni, let’s GO!” I yell.
“Shhhhhh!” we hear Joni say, and then her suitcase comes bumping down the steps before her. “Damn it!” she says, chasing after it.
“Well,” I say, “she’s certainly had her chance to wake up.”
We go out into the pale colors of dawn to my SUV. We stash our bags in the way-back and take our places. I’ll drive first, Lise will ride shotgun, Joni will be in the back with Riley. And with Renie, too, apparently, because just as I’m pulling away from the curb, we hear Renie calling, “Wait for me, wait for me, wait for me!” She’s running after us in her hunting-dog pajamas and sneakers, her briefcase over her shoulder and banging into her hip. She jumps in the backseat and says, “What.”
“You’re coming in your pajamas?” Joni asks.
“I’ll change later.”
“Into what?”
Renie looks at her. “Into what I buy to wear.”
“You’re going to buy everything you need?” I ask.
She straightens the collar of her pajama top, pushes her hair off her face. “Didn’t you ever want to do that? Take a trip without packing one single thing?”
Silence. It seems that yes, we all have.
“First purchase, toothpaste,” she says.
“You can borrow mine,” Joni says, and Renie says, “Nope, I’m getting a kind I never had before. I’m doing that this whole trip.”
“What kind of toothpaste have you never had before?” Lise asks.
“Licorice kind, there’s a licorice kind.”
“There is?” I ask.
“See?” Renie says. “Also, I’m getting a light-up toothbrush.” Then, before we can ask, “Target, kids’ section.”
“So … Winona is two and half hours from here …” I say.
“Yes,” Renie says. “I’m going to try. I just sent her an email that I would be at the Acoustic Café at noon.”