I got out on the other. In those few seconds of separation, Elise hooked her arm in mine and lowered her mouth to my ear.
“How has she been?”
We were walking. I could see our mother’s head through the windows on the other side of the van. She cleared the corner, heading toward us around the back. In just a few steps, we would meet up.
“She’s fine,” I said. “She’s okay.”
Ordering pizza with Elise always required negotiation. The rules went back almost twenty years. We could get pepperoni if I was willing to give up green peppers. She would forgo olives if my mother allowed pineapple. She only wanted breadsticks if we could get them with cheese. When we reached an agreement, she made the final order, stacking all of our menus and handing them to the waitress. My mother looked at the edge of the table, smiling with just half of her mouth.
I looked at Elise. “You didn’t get a soda.”
She shook her head and took a sip of water.
“You usually order right away. You’re a caffeine freak.”
“I’m turning over a new leaf.” She poked my knee under the table. “So how’s school? Are they letting you cut up dead bodies yet?”
My mother frowned. “Elise. We’re about to eat.”
I gave my mother an appreciative glance. She wasn’t at all squeamish. She’d just given me an out.
Elise clicked her tongue. “If she wants to be a doctor, it shouldn’t bother her.” But now she was looking at my mother. “Your hair is different.”
My mother touched the side of her head. “I’ve let it go. I know.”
It was true. I hadn’t noticed before, but now, even in the low light of the pizza parlor, I could see a definite horizontal line in her hair, almost at the level of her ears. Below the line, her hair was all dark, the same color as mine. Above the line, there were several curling strands of gray.
Elise nodded, with no further comment. “So how’s the mall? Do you like it? Is it fun?”
My mother nodded. She took a sip of water as she smiled. “It’s fine,” she said. In the center of the table was a flickering candle in a small red holder and a list of weekly specials encased in plastic. The list was green on one side, red on the other, and a little uneven in the frame. My mother picked it up and fixed it.
“How’s your new apartment? Where is it?”
My mother waved her hand as if clearing smoke. “It’s an apartment. Not much to say. I want to hear how you’re doing, honey.” She reached over to pat Elise’s hand. The diamond on Elise’s ring glinted brightly in the low light of the candle.
At the table next to ours, a man and woman sang “Happy Birthday” to a little girl. We all looked over and smiled.
Elise leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You really want to know how I’m doing?”
I sat back, ready to listen. For almost a year now, Elise had been telling us how busy she was, too busy to come home for a visit, too busy to even stay on the phone. But now, finally, here she was in the flesh, and though she often reminded my mother and me that we couldn’t possibly understand how much work she did, that really, we had no idea, I expected her to tell us all about it now. There would be funny impersonations of a demanding boss, maybe, or a needy client. She had my father’s small, blue eyes, and they were glimmering the way his did when he prepared to command our attention.
“Hmm. How am I doing?” She stretched back, her pale arms raised, her gaze moving over our heads. “Pretty good, I guess.” She smiled at me, and then at my mother. “I’m pregnant.”
My mother knocked over her water glass. “Oh!” she said, jumping a little. “Oh! I didn’t expect that at all!” She stood up to hug Elise, and her wrapped silverware fell to the floor.
Elise mouthed Help me! over my mother’s shoulder, though she was clearly enjoying the excitement.
“Hug you?” I asked, standing up. “You said you want me to hug you?”
When the waitress arrived with the pizza, Elise waved us both away.
“Okay, you two. Down. Sorry, yes, it’s wonderful, la la la, okay. I want to eat.” She thanked the waitress and reached between us to take a slice. “Whatever’s in there, boy or girl, it’s always hungry.”