Page 32 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
“Like Rick Smith?”
Tiny giggled. “Oh, no. He and Rick are kind of friends. They’re in the same group, talking politics and stuff. Tell the truth, he thinks Rick’s kinda weedy. More interested in his toys than, you know, doing important work. Plus, he says Rick’s,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “pussy-whipped.”
Clare exaggerated her O of shock before smiling. “But if he has his group to hang around with, you should have some girlfriends you can see as well.”
Tiny shifted. “I don’t… I don’t really need girlfriends. Rose and me go to the library. And the Y has a free mommy-baby exercise thing once a week. It’s really yoga, but Cal says that’s just the Indians taking over our culture, so I call it exercise.”
“Well, I’m definitely someone who is always making new friends, so I hope we can get together again soon.” This felt like the right place to wrap it up. She didn’t want Tiny to start to get nervous about her husband coming home, and above all, Clare didn’t want to say anything that might send the younger woman back into her shell.
She stood, and Tiny jumped off the sofa as well. “May I give you a hug?” She was tempted to throw her arms around Tiny and her child and carry them both away to safety in her car, but that wasn’t going to happen. At least not yet. She hugged Tiny warmly and dropped a kiss on Rose’s head. She put on her parka and picked up the carrier, where Ethan still peacefully dozed, drooling. Then, as if she just thought of it, she pulled her card out of her pocket. “Can you believe anyone still has a card in this day and age? But it’s useful. I wrote my cell phone on the back. Call me if you want to have a play date.”
Tiny lifted her hand and let it fall. “Oh. I don’t know. Cal checks my phone sometimes.”
“Really?” Clare wasn’t even going to try to spin that into something neutral. “Doesn’t he trust you? I mean, I’ve got to be honest, my husband would never do that.”
The other woman’s face squeezed in on itself. “I know. I don’t…” She glanced around, as if her husband might be lurking behind the playpen. “I don’t like it. He says it’s ’cause his ex cheated. He says he knows I wouldn’t, but it makes him feel better.”
“Hmm. Maybe you could—” Clare was cut off by the sound of tires crunching through the leaves.
“Oh my God.” Tiny raced to the window. “Oh.” She sounded as if she had just finished a five-hundred-meter sprint. “It’s okay. It’s a friend of Cal’s.”
Clare joined her at the window. A fully tricked-out pickup pulled snug against the downstairs. They watched as a beefy guy climbed out, ran his hand over his stubbled hair, and stared at Clare’s car. He walked toward the downstairs, disappearing from view beneath the deck.
“Is he coming in?”
Tiny shook her head. “You can’t get from one floor to another inside. You have to go around and through the outside door. We use it like a garage—it’s got Cal’s workroom and the chest freezer down there. It’s not even heated.”
The man reemerged carrying a couple of small duffel bags. He slung them into his truck cab and then headed for the railroad-tie stairs.
“Oh, crap.” Tiny set Rose back into her playpen.
“Should I, um, leave?”
“I don’t know what he wants. Maybe he needs to use the bathroom.” Tiny opened the door and stepped onto the deck. Clare slung her diaper bag over her shoulder and followed, her hand tight on the baby carrier. “Hey, Dillon.” Tiny passed her hand through the air. “Cal’s not here.”
“I can see that.” Dillon had the look of a high-school linebacker running to fat, his neck overflowing his chamois shirt collar, his gut straining against the buttons. He wore a pair of wraparound sunglasses that made him look like an out-of-shape version of RoboCop. “Who’s this?”
Clare and Tiny looked at each other. “It’s, uh, Clare?”
Clare held up the carrier. “We’re having a mommy-baby date.” She used her brightest, most brainless voice. “Rose and Ethan are both eight months old. And they’re both our firsts. It’s really nice to compare notes with another mom, isn’t it, Tiny?”
Tiny nodded emphatically. The big guy looked back toward where he’d parked his truck. “Does Cal know you invited somebody out here?”
As subdued by her husband as she was, even Tiny bristled at that. “No, but he will when he gets home, and I honestly don’t see as it’s any of your business, Dillon.”
Clare did her best giggle. “I can’t imagine he pays that much attention to scheduling play dates.”
He held up his hands. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I just, uh…” He focused on Clare’s parka. “You look like you’re ready to leave.”
Clare glanced at Tiny. “I was about to, yes.”
“Well, you should go out first.”
“Why?”
“Uh…”
Clare wondered if she was the first person to ever question Dillon, or just the first woman. She glanced back to Tiny, and saw she was looking as stressed as she had been when Clare first arrived. “Never mind.” She hugged the other woman tight. “I hope we can do this again soon.”
