THIRTEEN

After I left Cal in the parking lot, I drove around aimlessly. Snuck out the back exit and watched him fade into a tiny dot in my rearview mirror. I was scared to go straight home, didn’t have it in me to be met with a pack of reporters and have to run their gauntlet. Scared of what might come out of my mouth in the seconds between my car and my own front door. I stopped at the Piggly Wiggly and grabbed a handful of Slim Jims and a six-pack of beer, but found my taste for alcohol was still missing, left the first can to warm in my cup holder after a few half-hearted sips. One thing, at least, Cal would be glad to know I wasn’t inheriting from our mama.

Finally, because I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, I pulled into the diner’s parking lot and backed my car into a spot on the far edge, half hidden in early-evening shadow. Through the plate glass window I caught glimpses of Thomas slinging orders out for pickup, watched Louise and Joan talking to the customers, pouring iced tea and serving pie. I could almost imagine myself in there with them, hollering orders back to Thomas, Junie tucked into the corner booth with her homework spread in front of her, munching on a grilled cheese sandwich while she worked.

I knew Thomas had spotted me, saw his gaze lingering through the window, but when he left for the night, he never once looked my way. Letting me have this time I needed, where I could pretend to be invisible. After he and Joan had gone, I watched Louise wipe down the counters, slide a piece of pie into a Styrofoam container, click off the lights, and lock the door behind her. But instead of walking straight to her car, she crossed the lot to mine. She opened my passenger door and let herself inside, shoved the container at me. “Eat,” she said, handing me a fork and shutting the door as she settled into the seat.

“What kind?” I asked.

“Banana cream, all we got left. And don’t say you’re not hungry.”

I knew better than to argue with her, took a dutiful bite. It tasted flat and flavorless on my tongue, and I had to work hard to swallow.

“Thomas told me not to bother you out here, but I couldn’t help myself,” Louise said. “I’ve been worried sick about you. And then . . . after today.” She paused. “You were the talk of the diner tonight.”

“I’m guessing nobody’d seen a press conference like that before.”

Louise shifted toward me. “It’s not funny, Eve.”

“I didn’t mean it to be,” I said, taking another bite, knowing it was the last one I’d be able to manage.

“It’s probably not my place to say this, but someone’s got to.” Louise twisted her hands together in her lap. “Junie wouldn’t have wanted to see you that way. So angry you hardly looked like yourself. It would have broken her heart.”