that had died.
A van arrived with âASPCAâ written on the side. Two men got out. Chris let them lift the body off him, then, without glancing at Pippa, he stood up and walked back into the convenience store.One of the men from the ASPCA asked her if it was her dog. Pippa shook her head, brushed off her knees, picked up her shopping bag, and walked unsteadily to her car. She felt shaken and strangely moved.
*
Moira was late. Pippa leaned back in the aqua leatherette banquette and scrutinized the small oil paintings which were hung at regular intervals on the walls of the restaurant. They were all dutifully painted, humorless landscapes. She thought about her old friend Jim, how he would have looked up at them, his head slightly bowed. He would have nodded slowly. âAh, yes,â he would have said, smiling grimly. She wondered if Jim was still alive.
Moira appeared, out of breath, kissed Pippa, strands of black hair escaping from her ponytail. She smelled pleasantly of milk.
âI am so sorry Iâm late, I was writing and I looked at the clock and ââ
âDonât worry,â said Pippa, âI was just relaxing, enjoying the art. Thatâs a great buckle,â she said, fingering a silver sheriff star below Moiraâs belly button.
âThanks,â said Moira, covering it with her hand and sliding into the opposite bench, her large suede handbag clutched to her side. An effeminate waiter appeared. âOh! Hi! Can I please have, um, an iced tea? The one with, um, melon in it?â Moira said to him with involuntary flirtatiousness. Then she looked back at Pippa, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear girlishly, and smiled, a dimple indenting her left cheek. No wonder she had been her fatherâs favorite of seven kids, Pippa thought. She must have been a magical child, with that heart-shaped face, those enormous, Indian orphan eyes â and that imagination. In her messy, breathless, self-obsessed way, Moira was adorable. There was no getting around it. You could think her sincerity was ridiculous, you could lampoon her overblown sexuality, her exaggerated appreciationof life, but finally, you just had to throw up your hands and love the absolute purity of her confusion. Disarming. That was the word for Moira.
âYou look so beautiful ,â Moira said, scrutinizing Pippaâs face. âWhat are you doing different?â
âItâs the indolence,â said Pippa.
âI wish I could be so peaceful and good like you.â
â Good ? â
âYou seem so ⦠beatific.â
Pippa laughed. âIf only you knew.â
âKnew what?â
âOh, a variety of things. Iâm like one of those shiny used cars that have been in a terrible accident. They look perfectly fine on the outside, but the axle is bent.â
Moira smiled, puzzled. âYouâre so mysterious about the past.â
âYou think?â
âYou never say anything about your life before.â
âThere are things that happened that I donât dwell on.â
âWhat, like what happened to Herbâs first wife?â
âSecond.â
âSecond. He said she was already crazy.â
âNot that crazy.â
Moira sighed, put her head in her hands, and sniffed.
âWhat?â Pippa put her palm on Moiraâs shoulder.
âIâm just a rotten apple,â said Moira, wiping the tears off her cheeks. âIâll never have a normal life.â
Pippa was used to her friendâs sudden episodes of self-flagellation. She always used humor to bring her out of her maudlin spirals.
âOh, come on,â said Pippa. âWhatâs normal? You mean marriage?â
Moira nodded, blowing her nose. âItâs over between Sam and me. Oh, Pippa, itâs all so completely fucked up. I â Iâve gotten myself into â Iâm going to be forty with no man, fifty, not that it matters but it does . I â I