Page 23

I knew that look. She’d been my friend since freshman year and could conduct an entire interrogation while adjusting her sunglasses or stealing your fries.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“You're staring.”

“You've been strange the past few days.”

I reached for a fry and dragged it through the ketchup on the paper liner.

“On Sunday you went back to Side A after disappearing for almost two weeks, and yesterday your mother called me because you've started asking questions about marriage over grapefruit.”

I nearly inhaled the fry.

“She called you?”

“She wanted to know whether you'd seemed nervous.”

“What did you say?”

“That you always seem nervous around her.” Kim smiled. “She didn't appreciate my insight.”

The breeze shifted again, carrying the smell of lake water, sunscreen, fried onions, and someone's cigarette from farther down the Terrace. I closed my eyes for a second and let the air cool my face while chairs scraped over concrete and glasses clinked against tabletops around us.

This place hadn't changed much in my memory. Or maybe I’d changed enough that being here made everything look sharper.

Kim dipped another fry into her ketchup.

“So are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to guess? Because I'm excellent at guessing.”

“You once decided Professor Landry was secretly living with the woman who ran the copy shop.”

“They left campus together twice.”

“Because he was there at closing time. Total coincidence.” I smiled despite myself, then looked toward the lake, where the red sail of a small boat moved slowly past the pier.

“I don't know if I want to marry Paul.”

Kim stopped chewing.

I’d expected surprise, possibly concern, maybe even one of her dramatic speeches about refusing to waste our youth, but what crossed her face looked almost like relief.

“Things are that bad?”

“No.” I folded my napkin between my fingers. “That's part of the problem.”

She waited.

“He's good to me. He's kind, and he remembers things. Yesterday he brought almond cookies because I like them. He hates almonds.”

Kim nodded gravely. “Strong case for matrimony. Almonds are notoriously difficult to source.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

Paul had never been Kim's favorite person, although she’d never disliked him for any real reason. She thought he was too polished, too careful, and once told me that every time Paul wore loafers without socks, somewhere in Wisconsin a dairy farmer lost his will to live.