Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Laughed First
Her knuckles had gone white around the frame of her sunglasses.
"I have to say something," she said. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry."
I just stared at her. Caleb pressed in closer against my arm.
"I don't even know why I laughed." Her voice cracked on the last word. "I watched her do that to you, and I sat there and laughed anyway. That was an awful thing to do."
The manager stepped back and let her talk. He didn't interrupt.
"My name's Paula," she said. "I have a daughter. She's four months old. She's home with my mom right now, because I needed one day out of the house, and I—" She stopped and pressed her lips together. "I nursed her this morning. In my own kitchen. And I still sat here and laughed at you."
I didn't know what to say. Lily had fallen asleep against my chest, one tiny fist curled up near her mouth.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Paula said. "I just couldn't get in my car and drive home without saying it."
Caleb looked up at her.
"My mom lost my dad," he said. "This was supposed to be a good day."
Paula's eyes filled.
"I know," she said. "I could see it on both of you. And I still didn't stop her." She let out a slow breath. "Her name's Vanessa, by the way. The one who screamed. We've been friends since college. But whoever that was today — I don't know that person."
The manager cleared his throat gently.
"Ma'am, your membership isn't affected," he told Paula. "Only Ms. Crowley's account has been closed." He turned to me. "And I'd like your family to be our guests for the rest of the day. Lunch included. It's the least we can do."
Caleb's head came up fast. "Lunch?"
In spite of everything, I almost laughed.
Paula took a step back. "I'll leave you alone. I really do hope the rest of your day is better than the start of it."
She turned to go. She'd taken two steps when I heard myself say her name.
"Paula."
She stopped.
"Thank you," I said. "For coming back."
She nodded once, like she didn't trust her voice, and walked to her chair. She sat down. And she didn't touch her phone once for the rest of the afternoon. I don't know why I kept noticing that. But I did.
Caleb tugged my sleeve. "Mom. Did she say lunch was free?"
"She did."
"Can I get a burger?"
I pulled him in with my free arm. "You can get two."
He laughed — really laughed. It was the first time I'd heard that sound in months, and it went straight through me.
We stayed by the pool for three more hours. Caleb swam until his fingers pruned. The sun slid across the water. And for a little while — just a little while — the weight came off my chest.
Then we got back to the car, and there was a folded piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper.
May you like
No envelope. Just the paper, folded once, with words on it in hard, slanted handwriting.
I read it. Then I read it again. My hands weren't quite steady when I pushed it down into my bag.
