Page 9 of Wish I Were Here
“Hi. I’m Catherine.”
“We know who you are, dear,” Mrs. Goodwin says.
“I know. I was just telling—”
“How did the meeting go?” Luca asks, sliding into his seat and looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“Uh,” I stall. Themeetingwent well. It was what happened after that’s the problem. But Mrs. Goodwin and Luca have already discussed my underwear today, so I don’t think I really want to share any more personal information. And I’ve just met this Sal person. Although Lord knows what he’s heard about me. “It was fine.”
“Fine?” Luca’s eyebrows furrow, almost like that answer bothers him. I can’t imagine why it would. I can’t imagine why he cares. “That doesn’t sound so promising, especially after all the buildup.”
I sigh. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“It’s ten in the morning.” The furrow deepens.
“You’re right.” I sit up straighter. “The meeting was good. Really,” I reassure him, but maybe I’m also reassuring myself. “It was great. My boss said I have a brilliant mind and he wants to mentor me.” It sounds even better when I say it out loud. Dr. Gupta isn’t the kind of person to throw around idle compliments.
In the narrow mirror, Luca’s eyes connect with mine. They’re wide and dark, lined with long lashes and framed by thick eyebrows and high cheekbones. Despite the fact that the rest of his features are hidden, I can tell he’s giving me his signature grin by the little lines that crinkle at the corners.
“I’m really glad,” he says. His voice lowers a little at the end, as if he’s talking only to me despite the other people in the car. An unexpected warmth takes over my limbs. I quickly look away.
As Luca eases the car into traffic, I catch a glimpse of Dad back out on the lawn, juggling colorful balls now. He has at least seven up in the air at once, and a crowd of college students has taken notice, surrounding him, cheering him on. I wonder how many will put a dollar in his hat, though, and I suspect it’s not very many.
It all comes back to me in a slow wave. Dr. Gupta in his conservative khakis and Dad in his flower lei. Dad offering me a go with the juggling clubs. I press my hands to my eyes. Surely it wasn’t as bad as I’m making it out to be. But then I remember the diaper story.
It was so bad.
And the worst part is, the mortifying run-in with Dad and my boss is only serving as a distraction from the even bigger problem that Dad lost another steady job. He still thinks he’s going to support himself with his clown career. It’s been thirty years. When is he going to accept reality?
I shake my head.Dadandrealityare not two words that anyone would use in the same sentence. After all this time, I don’t know why I keep expecting things to be different. Maybe it’s because I hoped this new job was finally going to be my chance to focus on my career and my future. And now, in one toss of a juggling club, it’s all in jeopardy.
I’m so distracted by my thoughts that the next thing I know, Luca is pulling the car into the parking lot of a local pharmacy.
“What are we doing?” I ask, my voice slightly high-pitched. After the morning I’ve had, I really ought to get home and start working on the paper Dr. Gupta and Idiscussed. But I should have guessed I’m along for the ride on Luca’s errands.
He confirms this by opening his car door. “I’m going to grab Mrs. Goodwin’s prescriptions. Back in a second.”
Mrs. Goodwin wiggles out of her seat belt. “Hold on, young man. I’m coming with you. I need a new shower cap. And some water pills.”
Luca peeks over his shoulder into the back seat. “You okay for a few minutes back there?”
“Sure am,” Sal confirms.
I sigh. “I’m fine.” Looks like we’re going to be here awhile.
Luca and Mrs. Goodwin disappear inside the store.
Sal leans back against the seat and reaches into the pocket of his gray trousers. When he pulls his hand out, an old-fashioned hard candy rests on his palm. “Would you like a butterscotch?”
My stomach growls. I was so keyed up about the meeting with Dr. Gupta that I barely picked at my frittata at our breakfast meeting, and now I’m starving. Through the pharmacy window, I spot Mrs. Goodwin standing in the makeup aisle, comparing the labels on two tubes of lipstick. Luca waits patiently behind her, plastic shopping basket hanging from one arm and a mild, unhurried expression on his face. Sort of like the expression he had when he mentioned getting Dante—whoever that is—to fix the elevator. As if he could happily wait all day.
And, in turn, he could happily make me wait all day, too.
My stomach growls again. “I’d love a butterscotch. Thank you.” I take the candy from Sal, peel away the shiny gold wrapper, and pop it in my mouth. The sweet, buttery flavorbursts on my tongue, momentarily tamping down my hunger, and oddly, soothing a tiny bit of my anxiety, too.
“Here, take another.” Sal slips another butterscotch into my hand. “Keep it in your pocket for later.”
“Thanks.” I wrap my fist around the candy, hoping this doesn’t mean Sal knows something I don’t. Like the fact that we reallyaregoing to be here all day. I should hop out of the car and walk to the nearest bus, but I wore heels for the meeting. And the exhaustion of being “on” for the past hour has finally caught up with me. I lean back into the rich leather cushion of the Town Car’s back seat, feeling my body relax. They really don’t make cars like this anymore. I can see why Luca would want to keep driving it after his grandpa was ready to pass it along.
