“Cara, I need to apologize for how I left our apartment.”
“Don’t just stand there. Ric’s ice cream’ll melt. Come on.” She opened the door, using three shoulder-butts, and there sat Ric, sprawled on the couch with the TV blaring. Cara didn’t even look at him as she passed into a dirty gray kitchen.
“Bring a spoon,” he called.
Cara didn’t miss a beat. As I put the bag on the counter, she grabbed a spoon next to the sink, snatched the ice cream, and carried it to the living room. I stood awkwardly and calculated the difference between this and my warm apartment and the difference between Ric and Josh.
I sat down in a metal chair to give the impression I was staying as she came back to the kitchen. She narrowed her eyes and leaned against the counter.
“When did you move?” I pretended this was an afternoon chat with a friend.
“I stayed a couple years, but Ric and I are together, so I moved here a couple years ago. Rent’s cheaper and we’re good.”
“I can see that.”Oops, bad sarcasm!
“What?”
“Nothing. Where’d you two meet?”
“He’s a friend of Ron’s. Ron got sent up on charges. Loser. Ric keeps tabs on him, but I don’t care. Don’t need that.”
I didn’t know what to say to her. Her defenses were up, and why wouldn’t they be? I was intruding. I could see it in her body language: neck pulled back, jaw pushed forward, arms crossed.
“You don’t look good, Cara. Are you okay?” That was exactly the wrong thing to say.
“What?”
“You just look tired. I’m sorry. I’m not doing this right.”
Tired was an understatement. Cara was always rounded and boy crazy—think Lydia Bennet or Harriet Smith. Now she looked wizened, haggard, thin, and defeated—think any Hollywood celebrity you want, during dieting and before her next rehab. And I was screwing it up.
“You talk different. You dress rich.” She assessed me, and I didn’t make the grade.
“I’m wearing jeans just like you.” I cringed as I glanced at my sweater and boots. They looked too polished, too refined.
“You think I’m trash, but you’re no—” She interrupted herself with a coughing fit.
“You’re ill, Cara. Do you have the flu?”
“It’s nothing. I got some bug at the Shell. There’s cold medicine somewhere ’round here.”
We talked a little while longer. Short sentences with no real meaning. I told her about life on campus, but left out a lot of details. “I wanted to come and apologize for the way I left.”
“You’re sorry?” Cara sounded shocked.
“Yes.”
“You sound like Father John,” Cara sneered.
Why does everyone disrespect Father John?I caught myself.I did the same thing over the grant. That’s another apology I’ll need to make someday.
“I’ve hung around him enough, and he does make some sense. After I left you, I lived in Independence Cottage until a couple months ago. I’m up in Evanston now, but I went back to Grace House over Christmas.”
“Why?”
“I got sick, and it was the only place I could go.”
She opened her mouth as Ric’s yell cut across the room. “I’m goin’ out. Get me dinner, and none o’ those ramen noodles.”
