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Hank: I’m on a plane.
Hank: We’re not sleeping together. After seeing footage of your other boyfriends all week I’ve had enough.
Hank: I’ll look over your security. And I need to say goodbye.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Hank cutting me out of his life, again, was like a blow on my already broken shoulders. I put my head in my hands and stared down at the sidewalk, tempted to give up.
Sally: Way to kick me when I’m down. I dated other people when you weren’t talking to me, as you already know. This is all old news. That an actor would exploit a news cycle about me isn’t a surprise, even if it is distasteful. I was never his girlfriend.
Sally: You’re the only one in my heart.
Sally: Please don’t watch the tabloid stuff. That isn’t me and they don’t have the real story.
Sally: Call my head bodyguard Tyrese. Please. I’m in total lockdown mode. It’s miserable.
Hank didn’t text me back. I went to my political science class and tried to live vicariously through the other students who laughed, and made plans for the weekend, and flirted—one guy drank a beer he’d poured into his water bottle.
That afternoon I had Ms. Margie’s outing on the schedule. She was dressed, with bubblegum pink lipstick on, when I arrived with Irving to pick her up.
“Well,” Ms. Margie said, “this young man is going to be a strong shoulder to lean on. Tally ho.”
We went to the little grocery store she liked and then sat for tea in the outdoor patio area. Irving sat down as well, with his back to us, doing his I’m-not-really-here act—actually pretty convincing.
“How are you holding up, dear?” Ms. Margie asked. “They still haven’t found that man, have they?”
I did my best to smile. “If it wasn’t for Charley, I might be a little glum. He’s the sweetest guy. I bet he’d love to see you.”
“And I him. Let’s figure that out, please.”
“You bet. He’s starting to settle in a bit, I think—actually slept in until six this morning. Then he got up and carried around a squeaky rubber ferret I’d gotten him, like an alarm clock for all of my housemates.” I sighed.
Ms. Margie chuckled into her napkin. “They’re so silly sometimes. Has your young man come for a visit yet and met Charley?”
I blinked a little at the sting in my eyes. “He’s upset with me again—for things that happened a while ago. I don’t know if it’s gonna work.”
She patted my hand. “The ones we love change us and it isn’t easy. Is he worth it?”
“Not sure, at the moment.”
“Men are a handful. My husband was a live wire with energy snapping and popping all around him. He’d tap his fingers or wiggle his knee until I had to go hide out in my office to get a break. Now that he’s gone, I’ve started tapping my fingers, when I’m not too tired.”
I put my head in my hand. “I can’t seem to figure out what I want—except I know I hate being alone. I almost took home a kitten yesterday.”
“Cats like to stay put.”
“Right. And they were so small—I’m not responsible enough to care for such a fragile little thing.”
“You will be. Most of us aren’t, until we have to be.” She squeezed my hand.
After visiting a fabric store, we took Ms. Margie back to her home and got her settled in. Irving was good-humored and helpful, thinking to do things like run her trash out and heat up her dinner.
“Bring your young man to meet me, when you have a chance,” Ms. Margie said.
I put my hand on my hip and shook my head. “He doesn’t get to meet you until I’m happy with him. Who knows if that will ever happen.”
She wagged a finger at me. “Emotions aren’t a bad thing, young lady.”
