She was really funny, too.
When had the need to share become an ache?
You. Me. Forever.
She smacked that order slip on the counter a little too abruptly. She suddenly realized that it had been quiet for a long time.
She looked up.
Avalon was frowning at her.
“Have you been frowning at me this entire time?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Avalon said. After a moment. Apparently after reviewing the options for things she could have said, Avalon had opted to be sensitive.
And this was almost worse, because when Avalon decided to be delicate, it meant she considered Eden’s feelings raw and unwieldy and unpredictable indeed. Which only made Eden realize that from the perspective of men, her game, such as it was, did feel sort of wobbly from disuse. Practically atrophied.
“Well, I better get going,” Avalon finally said. “Come on up to Devil’s Leap when you get a chance. I think our donkey is arriving today!”
And with those enticing words and a wave of her hand, Avalon jingled out the door.
Chapter 3
As it so happened, a half hour later Eden and Annelise were roaring up Main Street to Devil’s Leap as if her flower van was a wartime ambulance.
“Why didn’t youtellme you needed trifold poster board to finish your report tonight?” she fretted.
Actual Aztec mothers had probably asked rhetorical questions much like this. Because there was only one possible answer. Which was: “Sorry. I forgot.”
Annelise was bummed. She genuinely suffered wounded pride when she screwed up. But she did forget things, now and again. To bring her lunch to school, at least once a month, for instance.
Eden sighed. “Never mind.”
She took a deep breath and rummaged around in her psyche, trying to whip up a little cheer. “We’re lucky that Auntie Avalon has some leftover trifold poster board. You’re usually so good about remembering I’m just surprised, is all. I know you’ll remember next time. It just takes practice.”
This wasn’t the least bit certain, but Annelise shifted in her seat, thumped her heels a few times, more cheerfully. She was definitely more resilient than Eden had ever been. Eden had always known how to indulge in a strategic, self-flagellating brood.
“Becky Gordimer today said her dad hightailed it out of town four years ago and her mom hasn’t seen him since,” Annelise said suddenly.
Eden tensed. “Huh,” she said brightly. “How about that.”
She took the next corner at Jamboree Street a little sharply.
Annelise sometimes came at questions about her dad sideways, out of the blue, with a delicacy that was both funny and poignant. She was already so aware of the nuances of people’s feelings.
“Mom, what does that mean,hightailed?”
“Hmm... well, maybe it means running with your tail in the air to catch the wind, like a sailboat. You know, like when Peace and Love takes a fright and his tail gets all big and poofy? Like that.”
Annelise burst out laughing. “That ishilARious. ’Cause he was scared? Like a cartoon!”
“Pretty much.” Eden was always a little extra kind to the Gordimer kids to offset the terrible father, known more for keeping a stool warm at the Plugged Nickel than their house warm in the winter, and because there always seemed to be something dripping from their noses and fingers, and she felt a little guilty for thinking them charmless. Eden was a loving mother. She wasn’t Mother Teresa.
“We can Googlehightailedto find out for sure when we get home, Leesy.”