“Persephone?”
“I’m here.”
“Please.”
“About what, Nance?” She sniffled in answer, so I added, “I mean, I didn’t like how things went last weekend either, but it kind of felt like it’d been coming for a long time.”
“I didn’t want it to.”
I let her have the silence this time, and I didn’t put in a pathetic sniffle for dramatic effect. Meeting with her would just stir up all the dying-friendship pain again. I understood that she was giving me—her favorite from the group—a second chance, but I didn’t want it. Nancy was good at distorting things; she did it without even thinking. It was second nature for her. Instead of her walking out on us with her head and morals high and leaving it at that, she was feeling guilty and wanted the opportunity to blame me for everything being wrong and to forgive me at the same time.
“What did Olivia and Betsy have to say?”
“I don’t know. I left shortly after you did.” I knew better than to let her wring any gossip out of me. “I think we should just let everything go, Nance. We’ve all grown apart, and those friendships feel like obligations now. That’s not good.”
“Obligations?” Now she sounded hurt. “How long have I been an obligation to you?”
Well, if I was going to be the ruination of it all, I could do that from here and save the gas money and the time. “We’ve grown apart,” I repeated. “Gone separate ways. Only Olivia and Betsy have anything in common anymore.”
“Bar stools and second shift at the factory.”
“Right. If they didn’t have that, they’d have forgotten each other by now.”
“We haven’t forgotten each other.”
“Maybe it’s time to.”
“I have some of your things. I can’t mail them to you. Mr. Jarrod cut my hours and my funds just don’t have any room.”
“What things?”
“A sweater, a few cassette tapes. A book.”
“Keep them.”
“No. Meet me. I’ll give them to you.”
“Now’s not a good time.”
“You have plans?”
“No. I’m just really tired.”
“I see. Too tired for obligations. I’ll bring them all the way to you, then.”
I was sure when I responded that she would know she’d won. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Take 71 South to 30 toward Crestline or Bucyrus. I don’t remember the name of the street, but there’s an exit by a big Meijer grocery store. In the plaza outside it is a coffee shop. We’ll meet there at seven. Thanks, Seph.”
Chapter 28
Nana threw a fit. Not because she didn’t want me to go, but because Johnny said he’d go with me—and that meant he wasn’t going to cook dinner. He whipped up a few sandwiches for her and Beverley and promised he’d go to the big grocery while I chatted with my friend. Then he leaned in and whispered something to Nana and then all was well. I made a mental note to ask him what his magic words had been.
The sun was dipping toward the horizon and, since Mansfield was southwest of my home, I had to contend with its glare in my eyes. Even with sunglasses on, I continued squinting, and it was bringing on a headache. I wasn’t feeling very chatty. Johnny ruled the radio, but about forty minutes into the trip, he’d had enough. The local stations didn’t play much that he deemed suitable for human ears. “So…” he said, drawing out the sound and ending it with a slap on his thighs. “What’s up with this friend that you gotta drive an hour to meet her?”
Pursing my lips, I tried to decide how to word it. Johnny wouldn’t want or need to hear all the details. Girl stuff would probably bore him. “Our friendship is over. It could end on terms that aren’t exactly bad, but she won’t stop till things get ugly.”
“Why aren’t you still friends?”
“We’ve just grown so far apart and become so different since high school that it’s a chore. Any relationship that feels like work isn’t working. Every relationship has to be worked at, I know, but—”
“Can I put in here that I think you might be watching too much Dr. Phil?”
“Shut up. I don’t even watch TV that much. What I’m saying is that a friendship shouldn’t be so hard.”
His voice sank low and turned yummy. “Some things are at their best when they’re hard.”
“Johnny,” I said exasperatedly. After signaling my annoyance by shaking my head for an appropriate amount of time, I continued: “I don’t remember her birthday anymore, but every New Year when I put up the new calendar, I feel obligated to reference the old calendar and write it—and other things—on the right date and send a card and some flowers to her work.”
“Lots of people need reminding, Red.”
“Okay, fine.” He clearly wouldn’t stop until he had the whole messy story. “She found Jesus recently—”
“Was he lost?”
“Oh stop it. She’s very connected to religion, which isn’t a bad thing, but it means that we don’t do any of the old stuff we used to do or talk about any of the old stuff we used to talk about because she’s ‘not allowed.’ It all just seems pointless. She doesn’t know I’m a witch. I never told her or the others because I knew they’d think I was a freak. Now I really can’t tell her. She doesn’t even know what column, exactly, I write, or she’d be on my case about that because she’s very anti-wære.” I sighed. “I have to be so careful around her. It’s tedious keeping secrets like that. And I know she wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore if she knew the truth.”
He was quiet, then pointed out the big red-and-yellow Meijer sign in the distance, indicating that the next exit was the one I wanted. “Sounds to me like the truth will set you free.”
I dropped Johnny off outside the store and said I’d be watching for him in an hour. I drove off to the little plaza then and realized that the coffee shop Nancy expected to meet in was a Starbucks.
I didn’t see her Cavalier anywhere, but I went on inside. I ordered a hot apple cider from a very congenial employee and chose a seat away from the window and the nearly retired sun. I thought about picking up the complimentary local paper to flip through, but my eyes needed to rest.
Backing my chair against the wall, I let my head fall back, shut my eyes, and reflected upon my last visit to a coffee shop. Despite their different franchised names and color schemes, the environments inside the two shops were pretty much the same, and the aroma was definitely the same. It took me back.
Vivian had suckered me and started this whole mess. I wondered if Vivian was dead. Wondered if her flesh was cold and gray, her eyes wide and sightless. It surprised me how strongly I hoped that was the case. For what she had done to Lorrie, for the manipulation of so many, and to bury the info she held and keep it from getting to Menessos.
Leaning on the table, I stirred the hot cider, watching the amber liquid swirl. The strong sense of justice that had embraced me all my life seemed to be gripping me tighter lately, strengthened by the accompanying urge to personally dole justice out in hefty doses to those who required it—but only to those who either admitted their guilt or had it otherwise proven. Sounded like top-of-the-list requirements for a Lustrata.
“You hate me, don’t you?”
Nancy stood there with a little box in her arms. Her red-rimmed and puffy eyes were wide and uncertain. Her mousy brown hair was coiled up into a bun, with wisps of shorter, loose hair sticking out. It created a slight wildness about her. I noticed the little doily pinned atop her head. She’d worn it to our brunch too. I realized Nancy had chosen a strict denomination of Christianity, Apostolic. I felt like a bug some kid had just dropped into a jar as she studied me. “No. I don’t hate you,” I said.
“You look so…serious and angry,” she said.
“Sorry. Just deep in thought.” Nancy didn’t look convinced. The kid was going to start shaking the jar and might even poke around with a stick. “I told you it was a bad time.”