How to Make an American Quilt (41 page)

I
T HAD NOT BEEN EASY
to tell Gracie that the boy now liked Theo and that Theo (she was sorry) liked him back. Theo could barely tolerate the sound of her own words as they came hurriedly from her mouth. Still she was powerless to reverse these events. Gracie tried solemnly to follow what Theo was telling her, could see her trying to sort out loyalties. Theo unable to explain that her inexperience was so complete she could knowingly do a wrong thing because the magnetism of this boy—or maybe it was the compelling quality of the situation—overrode everything.

This boy, Theo wanted to say, held out a sense of possibility to her. Surely you can see that, said Theo, you of all people.

And, much later in her life, when Theo thought back on this conversation, she would add what she could not then articulate: You of all people, who fell as easily for him as I am falling now…

M
ARGOT IS AGAIN
curled up in Gracie’s arms. Gracie soothing
there there
as she leans her cheek into Margot’s undone hair. Theo knows that she would not be as comforting, as natural, as warm. No closeness. No intimacy. There was a time when Theo had been jilted by someone she thought she loved and ended up following Gracie around for three days. When Gracie went to work, Theo called in sick and then went to Gracie’s office. If Gracie went to the dry cleaner’s, so did Theo. They spoke very little during this episode; the nearness of Gracie was comfort enough. Even at night, Theo crawled into bed with her.

Theo is wondering what it is like to be Gracie. Now, though she
is not the brokenhearted one, Theo still responds to Gracie’s whispered promise that everything will be all right. It will be all right.

“L
AST MONTH
,”
SAYS
M
ARGOT
, “for my birthday, Roy decorated the entire apartment with blue balloons. Everywhere. On the ceiling and blinds and our coats hung on their hooks. Even the dog had one attached to her collar. The cat was obviously less willing to participate since her collar balloon was a ripped piece of rubber hanging from her neck. And he made a blue dinner and a blue cake. He played blues on the stereo.”

“What would constitute a blue dinner?” asks Theo.

Margot continues, “And I thought, What a funny guy. Does he plan this stuff or does it occur to him as he walks home from work?”

“Does it matter?” asks Gracie, pushing back strands of Margot’s hair that have worked themselves free of the sock. She tucks them behind Margot’s ears, which are a little large and jutting.

“It matters,” says Margot emphatically, “because it changes everything if he planned it. It tells me who he does it for.”

“Who else would he be doing it for if he’s not doing it for you?” asks Theo, confused.

“Himself,” says Margot.

R
OY, IT TURNED OUT
, was seeing someone else. That is what Margot says the following night at a Chinese restaurant so cavernous that polite conversation was close to impossible.

“Is that what he told you?” asks Gracie.

“It is what I know,” says Margot, playing with her food using a pair of chopsticks until she tosses them on her plate, shoving everything away.

Ah, the Heartbreak Diet, observes Theo. It leaves you looking lousy in every respect except for your weight. And you feel as awful as you look; if you look starved, you also look starved for affection.

“Is this intuition or something more concrete than that?” asks Theo. This conversation is rendering her a little breathless.

“It’s definite.”

“Are you sure?” asks Theo.

“Yes. I’m awfully, horribly fucking sure.” Margot’s hand goes to her mouth. “I don’t know what to do,” she says softly.

“You still keep your studio, don’t you?” asks Theo slowly. “You have another place.”

“Oh, what difference does that make?” cries Margot.

“Listen,” says Gracie, “I’ve known Roy practically half my life. Things will work out. He’s just confused right now. That’s all. It happens, you know.”

“Have you talked to him? What did he say?”

“Actually, I didn’t talk to him,” says Gracie. “He called the other night and Theo”—Gracie gestures toward her—“he was talking to you, wasn’t he?”

Margot turns to Theo.

“He really didn’t say much of anything,” mumbles Theo, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Gracie continues, “No, look, I’m simply saying that this sounds exactly like Roy. I’m sure he’ll come around. He gets restless and distracted, that’s all.” Gracie scratches her chair back to face Margot, pulling Margot’s chair toward her. Margot’s expression is unsettled, as if turning over what Gracie has just said.

Theo can imagine Margot’s thoughts:

Now Gracie is saying, “I think the three of us—you, me, and Theo—should embark on a little camping trip. Why not? We can go up around Mendocino, say. Or wherever we like. The gold country? We can play it by ear.”

Margot is listening without listening. Theo cuts in. “Gracie, I’m not sure I can—”

Gracie cuts her off. “Wherever we want. You can get a clear head about all of this and, maybe, by the time we return, Roy will have come to his senses.” Gracie’s hands hold Margot’s. “You might not even want him anymore.”

“Why don’t you two go wi——” Theo says, with Gracie silencing her with a glance.

“What do you think? Maybe things will be different.”

Margot laughs ruefully. “Oh, like Roy will remember that he loves me?”

Gracie laughs. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“W
HY DO YOU INVOLVE ME
?” asks Theo of Gracie as they walk toward the bus stop, illuminated by the summer moonlight.