“TELL ME AGAIN why you can’t come Friday night?”
“Sis…I told you. I have plans. Besides, I went over every single line. Trust me, you’re good.”
Trixie pressed the phone more tightly between her shoulder and her ear as she chopped onions. She used to love this smell, love the simple act of fixing dinner for Ralph whenever she wasn’t working too late. Now everything made her want to lie down or throw up.
“IF I VOMIT one more time,” said Trixie Franklin over the head of the woman layering foundation onto her skin, “I am personally going to give Ralph a vasectomy. Why is being pregnant so awful? Aren’t I supposed to be glowing? And,” she said, swatting away the makeup artist’s hand, “stop trying to make me look white! What color is that powder, anyway? China doll?”
“EXCUSE ME. MAY I JOIN YOU?”
VC’s jogging partner stood over her. The same thrill of familiarity that Florencia had experienced the first time she met him shot up her spine. Since that day a month or two ago, she had wondered when she would meet him again, but not if. His being here now seemed exactly right.
GABRIEL’S HOMECOMING WAS BITTERSWEET.
Everyone in the town turned out to welcome him back, including Vitoria. Most of them wore fake and worried smiles, comforting themselves with pats on his back and quick, smooth platitudes. But Vitoria seemed to know better. She walked next to his wheelchair peppering him with questions that he found much more interesting than reassurances.