Photojournalist Award. I wish I could be there to cheer you on.”
“It’s all right. I planned to go alone, but I’ve met this woman, I mean through work, and…um…I thought I’d…but probably that’s a bad idea. What do you think?”
“About what?”
“About what I just asked.” Blythe sighed.
“Let me see what I got from your slightly disjointed sentence. You met a woman, but you’re adamant that I know it’s only a work-related relationship. Then you’re having second thoughts about asking her. Is that about it?”
“Ah. Yes.”
“Blythe, honey, you called because you really want her to join you at the ceremony, but you can’t bring yourself to invite her. You’re hoping I’ll think this is a big mistake and talk you out of it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And still you know, after all we’ve been friends for almost twenty-five years, that I’m going to push you to take a leap of faith. Call this lovely friend of yours. Ask her. The worst she can say is no.” Pearl’s voice softened. “I have a hunch that she might just accept.”
“Why? Why would you have a hunch?” Blythe clutched the cell phone.
“I know you rather well. You wouldn’t even dare consider asking a woman if she hadn’t shown some sort of interest in you, as a friend or more.”
Blythe wanted to curse at Pearl for being so damn omniscient. She’d never been able to hide anything from Pearl. That was probably a good thing, but sometimes it could be unnerving. Still, Blythe knew she’d called Pearl because she needed reassurance and a push in the right direction.
“Thank you. I feel so incredibly immature because I can’t just figure these things out on my own. I guess I just don’t trust myself.”
“Hey, you’ve come a long way. You’re eons from the wounded sparrow that landed on my doorstep all those years ago. That’s why I know this woman means more to you than you realize right now. She makes you feel more, and that’s why you panic and don’t rely on yourself. And you know what? That’s how it is for most of us. We meet someone and they make us feel vulnerable. We question them, and we keep our inner debates to ourselves.”
“So you’re saying it’s not just me as a typically awkward person?”
“Oh, honey, you’re not awkward. You never were. I think your parents made you feel that way, but the way I see it, it was never true.”
Blythe smiled at the strong conviction in Pearl’s voice. Pearl had once and for all let Blythe know that she was in her corner, no matter what. “Thanks. I needed some sense beaten into me. I’ll ask her. I can use someone there who isn’t impressed with the hoopla since you’re not able to attend.”
“I’m sorry about that, I really am.” Pearl sighed. “If it wasn’t the opening night of Mike’s play—”
“Don’t even think about it. What kind of mother would you be if you dissed your own son when he’s got the lead role? You did say they’re taping the play, right?” Pearl’s oldest son, a senior in high school, was playing Romeo in his drama class’s production.
“Yes, they are. All the parents get a copy, so you’ll be able to see it with him next time we get together.”
“Tell him I can’t wait. I’ve arranged for flowers to be delivered onstage afterward.”
“He’ll be thrilled.” Pearl shared more details about her family, then they hung up, but not before Pearl urged her to call “the woman” right away. Blythe promised, but she had to take a moment to think about it or, rather, what to say. If she didn’t rehearse mentally before the call, she’d end up stuttering and sounding like a complete wreck.
She glanced at the e-mail she’d saved to her desktop and shuddered. Yet another award, something she truly disliked but grudgingly acknowledged the honor of receiving it. This award in particular, since it was for the photos she’d taken in Afghanistan. She’d risked her life carrying out her job there, but so did the
“It’s all right. I planned to go alone, but I’ve met this woman, I mean through work, and…um…I thought I’d…but probably that’s a bad idea. What do you think?”
“About what?”
“About what I just asked.” Blythe sighed.
“Let me see what I got from your slightly disjointed sentence. You met a woman, but you’re adamant that I know it’s only a work-related relationship. Then you’re having second thoughts about asking her. Is that about it?”
“Ah. Yes.”
“Blythe, honey, you called because you really want her to join you at the ceremony, but you can’t bring yourself to invite her. You’re hoping I’ll think this is a big mistake and talk you out of it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And still you know, after all we’ve been friends for almost twenty-five years, that I’m going to push you to take a leap of faith. Call this lovely friend of yours. Ask her. The worst she can say is no.” Pearl’s voice softened. “I have a hunch that she might just accept.”
“Why? Why would you have a hunch?” Blythe clutched the cell phone.
“I know you rather well. You wouldn’t even dare consider asking a woman if she hadn’t shown some sort of interest in you, as a friend or more.”
Blythe wanted to curse at Pearl for being so damn omniscient. She’d never been able to hide anything from Pearl. That was probably a good thing, but sometimes it could be unnerving. Still, Blythe knew she’d called Pearl because she needed reassurance and a push in the right direction.
“Thank you. I feel so incredibly immature because I can’t just figure these things out on my own. I guess I just don’t trust myself.”
“Hey, you’ve come a long way. You’re eons from the wounded sparrow that landed on my doorstep all those years ago. That’s why I know this woman means more to you than you realize right now. She makes you feel more, and that’s why you panic and don’t rely on yourself. And you know what? That’s how it is for most of us. We meet someone and they make us feel vulnerable. We question them, and we keep our inner debates to ourselves.”
“So you’re saying it’s not just me as a typically awkward person?”
“Oh, honey, you’re not awkward. You never were. I think your parents made you feel that way, but the way I see it, it was never true.”
Blythe smiled at the strong conviction in Pearl’s voice. Pearl had once and for all let Blythe know that she was in her corner, no matter what. “Thanks. I needed some sense beaten into me. I’ll ask her. I can use someone there who isn’t impressed with the hoopla since you’re not able to attend.”
“I’m sorry about that, I really am.” Pearl sighed. “If it wasn’t the opening night of Mike’s play—”
“Don’t even think about it. What kind of mother would you be if you dissed your own son when he’s got the lead role? You did say they’re taping the play, right?” Pearl’s oldest son, a senior in high school, was playing Romeo in his drama class’s production.
“Yes, they are. All the parents get a copy, so you’ll be able to see it with him next time we get together.”
“Tell him I can’t wait. I’ve arranged for flowers to be delivered onstage afterward.”
“He’ll be thrilled.” Pearl shared more details about her family, then they hung up, but not before Pearl urged her to call “the woman” right away. Blythe promised, but she had to take a moment to think about it or, rather, what to say. If she didn’t rehearse mentally before the call, she’d end up stuttering and sounding like a complete wreck.
She glanced at the e-mail she’d saved to her desktop and shuddered. Yet another award, something she truly disliked but grudgingly acknowledged the honor of receiving it. This award in particular, since it was for the photos she’d taken in Afghanistan. She’d risked her life carrying out her job there, but so did the
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