actually pitch myself. You know that’s sort of my thing.”
“I know. But you can teach me how to.”
“How good are you trying to get?”
“Let’s say…to where I wouldn’t be laughed off a Little League field.”
Dean squinted. “What age group?”
She thought for a minute. “Twelve-year-olds.”
“They’re pretty good by the time they’re twelve,” he cautioned. “Don’t overcommit.”
“I want to learn.”
He smiled, just a little. “Okay. You want to start now? I assume you’re a righty, so that hand won’t be a problem.”
“No, just someday. I have stuff to do today.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Anything good?”
She leaned on the sink. “Clean the kitchen and shop for dishes.”
ONE THURSDAY IN EARLY APRIL, Evvie was up in the bedroom packing away her winter sweaters when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw Andy’s picture with a text: Can we do Saturday breakfast? Sorry we’ve been missing each other. Lots going on, but it would be great to see you. Relief instantly lowered her shoulders an inch.
Ever since they’d talked about the night that Tim died, he’d felt far away. He had this new girlfriend, he had kids, he was busy, he had work. But she couldn’t quite convince herself he wasn’t angry that she had let him try to soothe, for weeks and for months, an injury she didn’t exactly have. She’d seen him a few times, and it had been distressingly cordial. She’d pulled out her phone to text him over and over, but she hadn’t.
When a few minutes had passed, she reached into her pocket again for the phone. Hey!! Great to hear from you. I’d love that, yes. Been missing you a lot.
She heard back right away: Me too! OK if Monica joins?
She assured him that this was fine, and that she was looking forward to it, which she didn’t quite mean.
She took out her phone again and texted Dean. The good news is I’m having breakfast w/Andy on Saturday.
He came back: & the bad news?
And before she could answer, her phone vibrated again. Bringing the gf?
She sent him back the emoji with the tense, grimacing mouthful of teeth. The one she always thought of as Mr. Okaaaaay.
Still glad you’re going, he answered. It’ll be ok. She’s great. Promise.
She sent him a yellow heart. All the hearts were different to her, shaded and pleasantly oblique and sent in a language only she spoke—which maybe meant it wasn’t a language, just a diary hiding in plain sight. The yellow heart was for gratitude.
* * *
—
Evvie got to breakfast first on Saturday, and it was finally getting to be spring, so she sat at their table with her coffee and turned her face toward the big window with her eyes shut, letting her cheeks get warm in the sun. She turned at the sound of Andy laughing as he guided Monica into the booth across from her. “Hey, sorry we’re running late,” he said.
“No problem at all,” Evvie said. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too,” Monica said with a smile. “I appreciate your letting me barge in on your tradition. I know it’s a special thing.”
“Hey, I’m glad Andy could make the time.” No, no, no, that’s not what I meant to say. “The more the merrier,” she added, which didn’t sound right either. This made her 0-for-2. “I recommend the blueberry pancakes, even though Andy is a sucker for the ham and cheese omelet.”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” Monica said.
Just then, Marnie came by the table. She set down a cup with a teabag in it and a little pot of hot water in front of Monica. “Good to see all of you here together!” Marnie said. “Food order’s in for all of you, be a few minutes,” she said as she filled Andy’s coffee cup.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d been coming here, that was dumb,” Evvie said, straightening the napkin in her lap. Andy was looking at his phone.
“Andy’s a creature of habit,” Monica put in on his behalf. “I wanted to tell you, by the way, we drove by your house the other day and I couldn’t stop talking about how great-looking it is. I think your porch is glorious.”
Eveleth laughed. “That’s very nice of you. You should come sit on it sometime.” She squinted. “That came out weird.”
“No, not at all. Please come sit on mine, too, although it’s considerably less attractive.” Andy reached over and threaded his fingers through Monica’s.