It had hit her shirt, too, which Callie noticed also. She glanced at the stain, then at Lorna’s head, and laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said instantly, still laughing. “But what are the odds?”
Probably pretty good when it came to her. “This is not at all how I thought any of this would go. I really think that was Mom.”
“Mom?”
“Joke.”
Callie was still smiling as her gaze slid over Lorna again. “You don’t look like you’re about to panic. You look like you always did, only older. You’d better come in. At least move out from beneath the tree. The doves love it there.”
“Thanks,” Lorna said, and stepped forward, trying to keep her head high but finding it remarkably difficult to do.
Callie opened the gate for her and called up to the kids. “Tate, take the kids to the playroom and keep an eye on them, would you?”
A tall, lanky boy with an Afro nodded and began to usher the kids inside. Bean went along like he was one of them.
Callie closed the gate behind Lorna. “You look good, Lorna. I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a flight attendant. I hope that bird shit comes out of your uniform.”
Great. She had dressed like a flight attendant. She would be sure to complain about this to Kristen later. “I actually work in software sales.”
“Oh,” Callie said, her jaw slackening a little and eyes widening, as if she was mystified by this declaration. “I don’t think I would have guessed that either. Come in.”
Lorna followed Callie into her house. They walked past discarded toys on the lawn, past a bench in the foyer with shoes crammed into cubby holes. Backpacks were strewn across the entry floor. She could hear a TV on in some room, kids loudly talking. A cat was curled on top of a mound of books on a side table. Lorna could see through to the living area and the backyard where there was another play set and sandbox. A pair of big dogs lie panting on the patio.
It was chaotic, just like Callie’s house had been when they were kids, and Lorna felt homesick.
Callie showed her to a small hall bath, handed her some paper towels, and then said she’d be in the kitchen, pointing it out. Lorna stepped into the half bath with the paper towels and eyed herself in the mirror. She didn’t look like a flight attendant. She looked like someone who was trying way too hard. She yanked the scarf from her neck and her hair from its bun and watched her curls spring into a mess.
When she had cleaned herself as best she could, leaving a patch of wet in her hair that matched the ginormous wet patch on her shirt, she went into the kitchen. It smelled like soap and something sweet. Dishes were piled in the sink, and a coloring book had been discarded on the kitchen table. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to finish the cake I’ve baked,” Callie said, moving to the other side of the kitchen bar.
Lorna stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hands fisted by her sides. She felt odd in her skin. She didn’t fit in this room. She didn’t fit in Callie’s life. It felt so strange not to fall back into the friendship they’d had, even now. This was like walking onto a movie set where everything was make-believe. But it wasn’t make-believe; it was Callie’s life.
The life that Lorna had always wanted.
Callie picked up a can of icing and began to spread it on thesheet cake with a knife. “So? How are you?” she asked. “I mean besides the unfortunate incident with the bird.”
“Fine. I’m fine.”Probably.Her eyes wandered around the room as her mind searched for words. “And you?” she asked after a moment.
Callie glanced up at her. “Great! Life has been good. Okay, I can’t wait another moment—what’s up?”
“Right.” Lorna was thankful for the task of explaining herself. It was better than standing and watching Callie ice a cake while her imagination ran amok. “This must be really strange.”
Callie paused icing the cake. “Not really. Other than wondering why now. Why not ten years ago, or twenty years ago, or hell, even thirty years ago?” She fell silent then, waiting for an answer.
Lorna swallowed. She didn’t know how to tell Callie she’d been carrying the guilt like a rock in her gut for all these years.
“Wait... you don’t need money or a kidney or something, do you?”
Lorna gaped at her. “What? Callie—no.”
“I was just kidding. Sort of,” Callie said, and resumed the icing of the cake. “I mean, the last time I really spoke to you was to remind you not to forget your Rubik’s Cube.” She chuckled.
Lorna gripped her hands together in front of her so she wouldn’t tremble. “About that. I want to apologize.”
“For forgetting your Rubik’s Cube?” Callie asked mildly without looking up from her cake.
The words Lorna had tried to rehearse earlier did not come. So she went the chicken route and said, “I think you know, right?”
Callie glanced up. “Umm... no? I don’t think so. Unless it’s...” She paused, wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “Well. It was a long time ago.” She put the knife down, braced herself against the bar, and locked gazes with Lorna. “Go ahead.”
