Tina’s eyebrows shot up. “You did what?”
“I hit her.”
“Oh my God. Why?”
“She was pregnant.”
“Jesus!”
The explanation tumbled out. “She was smoking pot behind the building. I didn’t even mean to really hit her. I was trying to knock the stupid joint out of her mouth.” I was glad traffic had stopped because I didn’t think I could navigate anymore. My vision was gray, and my head pounded with my hammering heart, thundering like a stampede.
“I assume you got arrested and expelled.”
“They suggested I leave, but they didn’t put it in my permanent record, at least not the parts I’ve seen. I had to do community service. I had to apologize.”
“Shit, Corabelle. Why did her smoking get to you so bad? I mean, stupid women do it all the time.”
I pictured the line in the sand and the waves crashing at my feet. I didn’t answer.
“Sorry, too personal. I get it,” Tina said.
“No, no. I mean, yeah. I just…” I stopped.
“So I’m guessing you feel some sort of guilt. That’s natural. But you know, women smoke crack and their babies don’t die.”
“I smoked pot.”
“I’m sure you’re not the only pregnant woman to do it. Obviously your professor did.”
“Finn had a heart defect.”
“Did anyone say it was caused by the pot?”
“No.”
“Then let it go. All the way. Otherwise you’ll end up with some beauty marks like these.” She held up her wrists.
I’d do anything to shift the conversation away from me. “So what happened there?”
“Oh, hell, I don’t know. I mean, I do this circuit, and I say a lot of things about life getting better, and feeling suicidal isn’t a failure, just a condition, one to treat and fight, not to fall prey to.” She tugged her sweater sleeves over her arms. “But honestly, I did it just because I felt like I should be scarred. This big thing had happened. My baby had died, and my boyfriend had ditched me. Those things should leave a mark.”
“So you made the mark yourself.”
“Yes. I didn’t realize at the time that these marks weren’t the ones to worry about. It’s the one in here.” She drew an “x” over her heart. “I sabotage my own happiness a lot. It’s obvious from looking at me. It’s why my talks work. I swear half the people leave thinking, ‘Hell, I’m not half as fucked up as her.’ Whatever works.”
“So you don’t date?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’ll screw anything with a functioning dick. But they are out the door before the clock strikes one.”
“I haven’t dated either, not since Gavin left me.” I paused. “Except, he’s here. In San Diego. We ran into each other.”
“Did you know he was here?”
“No. He walked out of the funeral and I never saw him again.”
“Holy shit. I thought ditching me in the hospital was bad.”
“That’s pretty bad.”
She laughed. “We sure can pick them, can’t we? So have you talked to him?”
“He’s hell-bent on us getting back together.”
Tina frowned. “You going to do it?”
“I was. I have been. But then, God. He’s different. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Did he blame you? Back then, I mean. Is that why he left?”
“He didn’t know I smoked pot.”
Her eyes grew wide, taking up so much of her doll-like face that she looked like one of those caricatures that artists draw of people at theme parks. “Does he now?”
I shook my head. “I can’t tell him now.”
“But how can you be with him if you don’t? It’s screwing you up, plain as day. Can you carry that secret to your grave? Should you?”
The exit was coming up and I started fighting my way over. Anger started to build. Who did she think she was, lecturing me about this? “We’re nearly there,” I said. “You should make the flight if security isn’t long.”
Tina reached over to touch my arm. “I’m sorry, Corabelle. I don’t mean to upset you. I’ve been in all the bad places. I remember when the blood started coming out of my arms, thinking, ‘Yes, this is the right thing. I can be with my baby and no one can take him away again.’ I’m not sure we ever fully recover from thinking that way. It’s like we always have a last resort that’s way way beyond what other people consider.”
We pulled up to a red light. The signs for the airport loomed ahead. “Gavin drew a line in the sand and said we should just step over it, and let the past be the past.”
“I think that’s a good philosophy, if you can do it. I have the bad habit of dredging up the muck, over and over again, ad infinitum.” She tugged on her stockings where they were curling at her knees. “I should stop wearing these now that I’m a proper grown-up.”
“They’re cute on you.”
“I wore them when I was pregnant. They’re like a basketball player’s lucky socks. Sometimes I think a bit of Peanut is in them, since I sweated like a pig when he was cooking.”
The light turned green. “We’re here. I’ll just pull up wherever I can find curb space. It’s pretty crazy here.”