Practical Magic
Page 75
“Oh,” Sally says, completely disgusted. “Oh,” she cries.
“Well, we did! We pulled it off, and we should be proud of ourselves.”
“For lying?” Sally rubs at her leaking eyes and nose. Her cheeks are red and she’s snuffling like crazy and she can’t get rid of that awful feeling in the dead center of her chest. “Is that what you think we should be proud of?”
“Hey.” Gillian shrugs. “You do what you have to.” She peers into the trash at the globby noodles. “Now what do we do for dinner?”
That’s when Sally throws the colander across the room.
“You are in bad shape,” Gillian says. “You’d better call your internist or your gynecologist or somebody and get a tranquilizer.”
“I’m not doing this.” Sally grabs the pot of tomato sauce, to which she’s added onions and mushrooms and sweet red pepper, and pours it into the sink.
“Fine.” Gillian is ready to agree to any reasonable plan. “You don’t have to cook. We’ll get take-out.”
“I’m not referring to dinner.” Sally has grabbed her car keys and her wallet. “I’m talking about the truth.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Gillian goes after Sally, and when Sally keeps heading toward the door, Gillian reaches for her arm.
“Don’t you dare pinch me,” Sally warns her.
Sally walks out onto the porch, but Gillian is still right behind her. She follows Sally down the driveway.
“You’re not going to see that investigator. You can’t talk to him.”
“He knows anyway,” Sally says. “Couldn’t you tell? Couldn’t you see by the way he was looking at us?”
Just thinking about Gary’s gaunt face and all the worry that was there makes her chest feel even worse. She’s going to find herself suffering from a stroke or angina or something before this day is through.
“You can’t go after that guy,” Gillian tells Sally. There’s not a bit of nonsense in her tone. “We’ll both be sitting in jail if you do. I don’t know what would make you even consider this.”
“I’ve already decided,” Sally says.
“To do what? Go to his motel? Get down on your knees and beg for mercy?”
“If I have to. Yes.”
“You’re not going,” Gillian says.
Sally looks at her sister, considering. Then she opens the car door.
“No way,” Gillian says. “You’re not going after him.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Maybe I am.” She isn’t going to let her sister screw up her future just because Sally feels guilty about something she didn’t even do.
“Oh really?” Sally says. “How exactly do you plan to get to me? Do you think you could possibly ruin my life any more than you already have?”
Wounded, Gillian takes a step back.
“Try to understand,” Sally says. “I have to set this right. I can’t live this way.”
A storm has been predicted, and the wind has begun to rise; strands of Sally’s black hair whip across her face. Her eyes are luminous and much darker than usual; her mouth is as red as a rose. Gillian has never seen her sister look so disheveled, so unlike her usual self. At this moment Sally seems to be someone who would rush headlong into a river, when she hasn’t yet learned how to swim. She’d jump from the branches of the tallest tree, convinced all she needed for a safe landing were her outstretched arms and a silk shawl to billow out and catch the air as she fell.
“Maybe you should wait.” Gillian is trying her sweetest voice, the one that has talked her out of speeding tickets and bad affairs. “We can discuss it. We can decide together.”
But Sally has made her decision. She refuses to listen; she gets into her car, and short of jumping behind the Honda to block it, Gillian can’t do anything but stand and watch as Sally drives away. She watches for a long time, too long, because, in the end, all Gillian is watching is the empty road, and she’s seen that before. She’s seen it much too often.
There’s a lot to lose when you have something, when you’re foolish enough to let yourself care. Well, Gillian has gone ahead and done it by falling in love with Ben Frye, and her fate is now out of her hands. It’s riding along, sitting shotgun in that Honda with Sally, and all Gillian can do is pretend that nothing is wrong. When the girls come home, she says that Sally’s out running errands, and she orders from the Chinese take-out place on the Turnpike, then phones Ben and asks him to pick up dinner on his way over.
“Well, we did! We pulled it off, and we should be proud of ourselves.”
“For lying?” Sally rubs at her leaking eyes and nose. Her cheeks are red and she’s snuffling like crazy and she can’t get rid of that awful feeling in the dead center of her chest. “Is that what you think we should be proud of?”
“Hey.” Gillian shrugs. “You do what you have to.” She peers into the trash at the globby noodles. “Now what do we do for dinner?”
That’s when Sally throws the colander across the room.
“You are in bad shape,” Gillian says. “You’d better call your internist or your gynecologist or somebody and get a tranquilizer.”
“I’m not doing this.” Sally grabs the pot of tomato sauce, to which she’s added onions and mushrooms and sweet red pepper, and pours it into the sink.
“Fine.” Gillian is ready to agree to any reasonable plan. “You don’t have to cook. We’ll get take-out.”
“I’m not referring to dinner.” Sally has grabbed her car keys and her wallet. “I’m talking about the truth.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Gillian goes after Sally, and when Sally keeps heading toward the door, Gillian reaches for her arm.
“Don’t you dare pinch me,” Sally warns her.
Sally walks out onto the porch, but Gillian is still right behind her. She follows Sally down the driveway.
“You’re not going to see that investigator. You can’t talk to him.”
“He knows anyway,” Sally says. “Couldn’t you tell? Couldn’t you see by the way he was looking at us?”
Just thinking about Gary’s gaunt face and all the worry that was there makes her chest feel even worse. She’s going to find herself suffering from a stroke or angina or something before this day is through.
“You can’t go after that guy,” Gillian tells Sally. There’s not a bit of nonsense in her tone. “We’ll both be sitting in jail if you do. I don’t know what would make you even consider this.”
“I’ve already decided,” Sally says.
“To do what? Go to his motel? Get down on your knees and beg for mercy?”
“If I have to. Yes.”
“You’re not going,” Gillian says.
Sally looks at her sister, considering. Then she opens the car door.
“No way,” Gillian says. “You’re not going after him.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Maybe I am.” She isn’t going to let her sister screw up her future just because Sally feels guilty about something she didn’t even do.
“Oh really?” Sally says. “How exactly do you plan to get to me? Do you think you could possibly ruin my life any more than you already have?”
Wounded, Gillian takes a step back.
“Try to understand,” Sally says. “I have to set this right. I can’t live this way.”
A storm has been predicted, and the wind has begun to rise; strands of Sally’s black hair whip across her face. Her eyes are luminous and much darker than usual; her mouth is as red as a rose. Gillian has never seen her sister look so disheveled, so unlike her usual self. At this moment Sally seems to be someone who would rush headlong into a river, when she hasn’t yet learned how to swim. She’d jump from the branches of the tallest tree, convinced all she needed for a safe landing were her outstretched arms and a silk shawl to billow out and catch the air as she fell.
“Maybe you should wait.” Gillian is trying her sweetest voice, the one that has talked her out of speeding tickets and bad affairs. “We can discuss it. We can decide together.”
But Sally has made her decision. She refuses to listen; she gets into her car, and short of jumping behind the Honda to block it, Gillian can’t do anything but stand and watch as Sally drives away. She watches for a long time, too long, because, in the end, all Gillian is watching is the empty road, and she’s seen that before. She’s seen it much too often.
There’s a lot to lose when you have something, when you’re foolish enough to let yourself care. Well, Gillian has gone ahead and done it by falling in love with Ben Frye, and her fate is now out of her hands. It’s riding along, sitting shotgun in that Honda with Sally, and all Gillian can do is pretend that nothing is wrong. When the girls come home, she says that Sally’s out running errands, and she orders from the Chinese take-out place on the Turnpike, then phones Ben and asks him to pick up dinner on his way over.
