—
Danny was waiting, as promised, in the mud by the scary cliff. “Cleo!” he cried, dropping his cigarette and extinguishing it under a new boot. He scanned the ground around himself to kneel, but it was all mud. “I love you, Cleo,” he said, opening his palms.
“Oh, Danny. You’re such an amazing person.”
“I want to be a family,” said Danny. “I want to be a dad. We can do this, Cleo.”
Cleo wished it were true. But even if it meant she would never be a mother, she knew that having a child with Danny was a mistake. She was going to start telling her truth, even when it hurt people, because she couldn’t take care of herself and everyone else at the same time.
“Why can’t you try?” said Danny.
“Because I’m in love with Isaac,” said Cleo.
3
Emma
-$52,190.55
After the Winefride Bird Preserve, Simon offered to show them around the nearby Lake District town of Grasmere. Florence and Rashid met them at their first stop: Wordsworth’s Dove Cottage, which was warm and cozy. Emma followed the tour guide from the parlor to a small writing room where William Wordsworth had composed poetry.
“On the wall is the portrait of the Wordsworths’ terrier, Pepper,” said their guide. “William’s sister, Dorothy, also lived here beginning in 1799. She wrote in her journals and did the washing.” In Dorothy’s bedroom, the guide said, “You can see the tray of small sticks Dorothy would have used to clean her teeth.”
The guide paused by Wordsworth’s writing desk and read from a poem composed there called “Ode to Duty”:
Oh, let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice…
“Easy to write an ode to duty when your sister’s waiting on you hand and foot,” noted Florence.
“And cleaning her teeth with sticks,” added Rashid.
They laughed, and Emma laughed, too.
“Self-sacrifice is a trap,” said Emma, testing the words as she said them.
“Right on, sister,” said Flo.
4
Sylvie
The line to enter Sarah Nelson’s Grasmere Gingerbread would take about forty-five minutes and the rain was growing heavier. “Please,” said Donna. “My neighbor at Margaritaville Retirement Community never stops talking about the goddamned gingerbread at this famous shop.”
“I love gingerbread!” chimed in Louisa.
“My neighbor went to England twenty years ago and we never hear the end of it,” said Donna. “I just need a package from this one shop, or a T-shirt.”
“They also have rum butter and sticky toffee sauce,” added Simon.
“OK,” said Sylvie, though she was chilly and wanted to climb into a warm bubble bath. “OK, sure,” she said. The van driver found a parking spot next to a wide mud puddle. Sylvie wrapped her scarf around her neck and Simon readied umbrellas.
“I’ll wait in the toasty bus,” said Donna. “Can you grab me some gingerbread and a T-shirt?”
5
