“Plus, he’s schtupping Zwena,” Mrs. Eisenberg deadpans.
“No, he’s not.” I laugh, entertained by the Yiddish of an old Jewish woman from an era when it was assumed men and women couldn’t be just friends. Releasing Krish from our embrace, I glance back and forth between Krish and Zwena, looking to them to confirm this foolishness.
“I’ll bet you a maple bar they are.” Mrs. Eisenberg meets my doubt and puts her hand out to shake on our wager. Livy drove me, Mrs. Eisenberg, and my mother to the airport. Under her breath, Livy made me swear to monitor her grandmother’s sweets intake over the next two days to keep her blood sugar stable, since this is her first trip away from her doctors. My guess is that Mrs. Eisenberg knows about our—apparently not so subtle—exchange, and this is a bet she would only place if she was certain to win. I keep my hands at my sides, but my eyes return to my friends studying their shoes.
“Antonia, if you are going to be a CEO, you really should be more in tune with the lives of your coworkers,” Mrs. Eisenberg advises, disappointed with my lack of awareness. “Go ahead, ask them.”
When Krish and Zwena peer up, I shoot them a face that says,Can you believe this lady?If there was something between these two, I would know.
“I saw them walk into the airport together, for heaven’s sake,” Mrs. Eisenberg heaves, exasperated by my cluelessness. “I bet he’s been waiting over by Compass Books for an acceptable amount of time to passbefore sashaying over here as casually as possible for a man head over heels in love.”
Zwena howls at the absurdity of being caught by Mrs. Eisenberg, then gives Krish a wet kiss on the cheek and anokaynod. I watch my best friend comfortably settle herself under the arm that Krish just hugged me with, her textbook—the sole focus of her attention the last thirty minutes—discarded to the ground.
“Yes, I’m schtupping your best friend,” Krish announces, like he won the prize of a lifetime. Which he has. “And have been for quite some time.”
“Good for you.” Mrs. Eisenberg beams, loving being right. “You know, the most fun Eddie and I ever had was the months we were sneaking behind Evangeline’s back, stealing kisses when she was at the stove frying fish on Fridays. Or when we offered to do the laundry so we could have a few hours alone at the laundromat. How Evangeline and Otis never figured that one out is beyond me. Left to his own devices, Eddie would have worn the same drawers until they fell off him.”
“Sebas and I used to love to ...”
“No, no, no, Mom. I don’t want to hear about you and Dad. I heard too much as a child.”
“I was just going to say that the orange groves in Las Marías worked in our favor so we could ...”
“Yep, yep, still don’t want to hear it, Mom,” I stop Gloria.
“I do.” Mrs. Eisenberg elbows my mom. “Later, of course.”
“Since when?” I question Krish and Zwena, not willing to believe their getting together got past me.What free time did these two have that they weren’t spending with me?
“Since January?” Zwena’s voice wavers, and she glances at Krish for confirmation.
“That can’t be. What about, what about ...” I catch myself before blurting without thinking,What about Harley?
“Exclusively dating, since right after that night at your house in March when we were cyberstalking Simon and we toasted me quittingworking for United,” Krish interrupts. My mind has temporarily switched subjects from running through my own schedule to putting the Zwena and Krish timeline together. “Remember, we showed up almost an hour late to your house?”
“But you two are always late,” I remind them.
“Exactly,” they both say. Has it really been so long for me that my nose doesn’t recognize the scent of love?Wow, muy triste.
“Zwena was so upset I was leaving the airport she wanted to lock me down.” Krish laughs and Zwena flutters her eyelashes, letting us all knowas ifwhile squeezing Krish a little bit tighter. I do remember celebrating Krish’s plans that night, and in this case Krish is on the right side of history. Zwena had become unexpectedly sullen with his announcement.
I learn the story of Krish and Zwena’s first kiss, which apparently happened after I made them both come to Coco and Lou’s painful middle school interpretation ofGreasenineties style, that they both wanted something positive to come out of the bust of that Friday evening back in early December. My mother sits quietly through the tale, enraptured by a real-life rom-com where she knows the lead actors. At the end of the back and forth telling of the Zwish love story, Gloria hops up, planting kisses first all over Zwena, then Krish. The red of my mother’s lipstick looks like welts from an allergic reaction, but neither of my friends move to wipe the love nor their smiles from their faces.
“Good news for gate D6,” Patricia interrupts, singsonging into her intercom with what I swear is a drop ofI told you sodirected at me. “The inbound flight is approaching, and as quickly as we can get the plane cleared and cleaned, we will begin the boarding process.”
“Look who I found meandering through the airport,” Dieting Donna yoo-hoos, arm looped through Mr. Chen’s right elbow, his homecoming queen holding on to the crook of his left.
“Hey, hey, Mr. Chen,” Zwena booms, taking the attention off her and Krish. “No ride today?” Mr. Chen’s broad smile meets Zwena’s, and he strides the last few steps into our growing group with the vigor of hisyounger self. I spy Dieting Donna quickly tucking a roll of SweeTARTS up her sleeve when she thinks no one is looking.
“Everyone, this is Helen,” Mr. Chen introduces his new/old flame to the group, holding out her hand so she may step into the assemblage. I swear I catch Mr. Chen eyeing my mother from behind the homecoming queen’s back. With his reinvigorated manhood, maybe Mr. Chen is not as much of a one-woman guy as he previously thought.
“No need for the cart, Zwena. Helen has me resistance training three times a week,” Mr. Chen brags, lifting his carry-on from his side to above his head. “Don’t even need help getting it in the overhead compartment anymore.”
“Any passengers needing extra assistance may begin boarding in five minutes,” Patricia announces. I look at Mrs. Eisenberg.
“Okay, okay, I guess that’s me,” Mrs. Eisenberg agrees, blowing out a defeatist puff of air.
“You should start resistance training too,” Mr. Chen advises Mrs. Eisenberg.
