Chapters (65)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Part Two
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Part Three
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
“No, it doesn’t,” Hal said in his calm voice, the voice that let me know he was done fighting. That let me know he was sorry. We both exhaled simultaneously. Hal opened his arms, and I collapsed into them. He kissed my head and rested his chin on the spot he had kissed.
From his embrace, I saw myself in the entryway mirror. “Look at that,” I said.
“What?”
“That little sign over there.” I pointed to an index card that was taped to the mirror, in the bottom corner. It said: “College Student Lives Here.”
Hal raised his eyebrows. Was he puzzled or impressed?
“Look, there’s another one.” I moved into the living room. On the back of a closet door, a card said: “Move Forward So You Don’t Go Back.”
Hal followed me as we hunted for index cards, little signs all over her apartment, with affirmations and reminders. Some of them were relevant and useful, like the one on the refrigerator door, which said: “You are Cooking a Baby => Eat Better.” I liked that one. Others were more vague or aspirational.
On the bathroom mirror: “You Are Good at Math.”
In the bedroom: “Career Girls Are Sexy.”
“What do you make of this? All these note cards?” I said, wondering what I thought of them myself.
“I take it to mean that Cally is an ambitious young woman,” said Hal.
“I guess so,” I said, continuing to survey the area. There were other clues scattered about. On the dining room table, I saw a pile of mail, some of it opened and some not. I saw a phone bill and a credit card statement and a gas bill with “past due” marked in red. I wanted to dig further in the pile of bills, but that would be too invasive. Best to keep to what was clearly visible. Next to the phone, two index cards were taped to the wall, as if they were everlasting phone messages. One read: “Call Sarah + Bob.” They were friends I remembered from the birth classes. The other said: “Call Hal=> Internship.”
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“Oh, you know about that,” said Hal, dismissing any concern. “We talked about that early on. I said I’d ask around.”
“Look!” I said suddenly. “Her answering machine!” I pointed to the black device next to the phone. “The light is blinking. She has messages.” I pushed the play button and the tape rewound.
Beep! “Hi, Cally, it’s Ruth calling to see how you’re doing today. Hope you’re feeling well and getting lots of sleep and drinking lots of water. Give me a call when you get a chance, okay? Thanks.” I cringed because my voice sounded so sugary and annoying.