Girls in Pants - Ann Brashares [60]
Carmen ordered stuffed grape leaves and something hot that strongly resembled spanakopita. She ordered an eggplant dish, a Greek salad, a few squares of baklava, and two large lemonades. She paid up and carried it all to the table, setting all the dishes between her and Valia. “I bought us a snack. I hope that’s okay.”
Valia gazed at it all disdainfully.
Carmen put a steaming spinach pastry on a little paper plate and handed it to Valia with a fork. “Here, try some.”
Valia just sat there with it, smelling it, completely still.
Immediately, Carmen regretted her impulse, just as she ended up regretting almost all of her impulses.
Valia didn’t want to be here. She was going to hate the inauthentic food. She could already hear Valia’s litany of complaints.
You call this food?
Vhat is the green mess? This is not spinach.
As the moments passed, Carmen felt worse and worse. Why did she have such stupid ideas? More than that, why did she actually carry them out?
Valia held the plate up close to her face. She looked like she was going to take a bite, and then she stopped. Carmen watched in wonderment as Valia put it down on the table and bent her head.
Valia just sat like that with her head bent for many long moments, and then Carmen saw the tears. Lines of tears bumped down Valia’s wrinkly face. Carmen felt her own throat constricting. She watched as Valia’s face slowly collapsed into pure sorrow.
Carmen was up and out of her chair. Without thinking, she went to Valia and put her arms around the old lady.
Valia was stiff in Carmen’s arms. Carmen waited to be pushed away, or for some other signal of Valia not wanting to be hugged anymore, especially not by Carmen.
But instead, Valia’s head got heavier as it sank into Carmen’s neck. Carmen felt the soft, saggy skin against her collarbone. She hugged a little harder. She felt Valia’s tears, damp on her neck. She realized, sort of distantly, that Valia’s hand had made its way to her wrist.
How sad it was, Carmen thought, that you acted awful when you were desperately sad and hurt and wanted to be loved. How tragic then, the way everyone avoided you and tiptoed around you when you really needed them. Carmen knew this vicious predicament as well as anyone in the world. How bitter it felt when you acted badly to everyone and ended up hating yourself the most.
Carmen tenderly patted Valia’s hair, surprised that for once that it wasn’t she who was acting awful. It wasn’t Carmen who was being needy, but rather feeling needed.
She thought about Mr. Kaligaris and all of his theories about protecting his mother. Yes, smelling Greek food made Valia sad. He was right about that. And being held by another human seemed to make her sad too. But sometimes, Carmen knew, being sad was what you had to do.
“I vant to go home,” Valia croaked into Carmen’s ear.
“I know,” Carmen whispered back, and she understood that Valia wasn’t talking about 1303 Highland Street, Bethesda, Maryland.
“Have fun with Michael.” Bridget lifted her eyebrows suggestively. “But not too much fun.”
As she helped Diana put her duffel bag into her car, Bridget felt a strange rolling sensation under her eyeballs. Her head was aching and she was tired. She was happy for Diana that she was going back to Philadelphia to spend the weekend with her boyfriend, and she was sorry for herself that she was staying here.
She decided against stopping in the dining hall. Friday night dinner was one of the better meals, involving an ice cream sundae buffet where she was always happy to return for seconds and thirds. But tonight she wasn’t hungry. “I gotta go to bed,” she muttered to herself, trudging through the parking lot and past the equipment sheds.
The camp felt strangely