anyway, swallowing a shriek of pain. Once situated, there was nothing more for her to do but leave me to it. I made her take the wheelchair with her too. I didn’t need it parked within a million miles of me.
Carl grabbed his napkin and set it on his lap, smoothing it over a few times to flatten the creases. I rearranged my silverware. Never before had we been uncomfortable in our silence, not even the first day we met.
He cleared his throat and spoke low. “What really happened to you?”
I weighed the truth and settled on punting. “Let’s talk about it later, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind. You discussed it with Alice already, didn’t you?” He raised his chin, challenging me to lie. “She came and found me after your phone call . . . crying.”
I cringed, glanced over at Alice’s table, and caught her eyes on me. She swiveled back to her plate and started a conversation with Mrs. Zimmerman, who returned the favor by mouth-breathing. Once, Alice peeked back, lashes fluttering. I raised my hand, hoping to offer my apology and thanks, but she turned away too soon.
“Well?” Carl said.
I gave up my view of Alice to look at him. “Did either of you tell anyone else about the phone call?”
After a too-long pause, he said, “Alice told Valencia.”
I nodded. To be expected. And safe enough.
“And I mentioned it to Charles.”
“Jesus. Why’d you go and do a thing like that?”
Carl pointed a fork at me. “Because you were missing and I was worried.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the saying that two can keep a secret only if . . .” I looked over at Charles as he inched a glass to his lips, which were puckered and ready about ten minutes too soon. “Now I have to go over there and add some salt to his soup.”
“Stop it. You would’ve done the same for me.”
I swallowed and looked down at my plate. He was right. I would have sent out an all-points bulletin and rallied a search party to overturn tables and ransack closets to find him.
“And besides,” he said, his fork drooping, “I put a lid on it when the news started spreading that Sharon was coming. Sherri Linley invited everyone to a prayer circle to help get ready.” He leaned over his plate, his sweater picking up crumbs from the top of his toast. “And we all think Sharon’s coming specifically to see about Charles. Before you came back, Shawn announced that he’s adding an extra exercise class next week and encouraged us all to come, since this is officially a no-lift facility. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
I grunted. I’d read the fine print. Never worried much about it, because it seemed a subjective, rarely enforced rule. What was the difference between assisting someone up and lifting them up? Though upon reflection, there was a big difference when it came to Charles. Probably when it came to me too. It sounded like Sharon was coming from all directions—you couldn’t be too frail, too forgetful, or too fat.
Carl looked me over, concerned and thinking the same thing. “Did you really fall outside?”
“I don’t know. Did you really stay in bed all day?” I shot back, like it was a competition for the most unfit.
“I’ll have you know that I got up because Alice needed me, and I thought maybe you’d gone to find . . .” Torment flitted across his face, followed by the kind of hope that came along with dreaming too big. “Please tell me. Did you?”
The truth built up behind my lips and, at first, came out like a whistle between my teeth, until finally I confessed. “I did.”
“Cripes,” he breathed. “And?”
I closed my eyes to gather my thoughts, and there Josie stood behind my lids, loose-limbed and slurring, surrounded by rounders who’d stick her in either a gutter or a cheap motel. When I came to, I was so ashamed that I answered, “No luck.”
Carl blinked, and then a slow slump took over his body, like someone