Sisterhood Everlasting - Ann Brashares [7]
“I tried to call you a bunch of times today,” Eric said. “Did you get any of my messages?”
“I … um … no. I didn’t have my phone with me.” She didn’t want to say her phone was likely in one of the garbage cans out back.
Eric got a certain look, somewhere between impatience and amusement, when she misplaced her phone again, or gave away large portions of their belongings, or spent the afternoon fishing in the bay with a homeless man named Nemo, as she had done the day before. “Nobody could accuse you of being boring” was what he often said when he got that look. And frankly, having somebody like Bridget around was what Eric needed, because he was prone to habits and ruts and he knew it. Who else got him out to street festivals, free concerts, bike-a-thons, and community gardening projects? Who else got him to try surfing and jujitsu and the leggy, oily creatures they served at the restaurants in deepest Chinatown?
“You didn’t lose your phone again, did you?”
“Uh. I don’t think so.” She started flipping through the free newspaper she’d picked up at the BART station.
He gave her that look. “Bridget, if you don’t want the phone, it would be cheaper just to cancel the service. That way Carmen and Greta and Perry and your dad and I and whoever else wouldn’t have to leave all those messages for you that you never pick up. You’d save us the trouble.”
“That’s true. Hey, look,” she said, pointing to an ad in the paper. “There’s a one-bedroom on Guerrero for $1,850 a month. That’s pretty good.”
“I like this place. I don’t want to move again. We’ve moved four times in the last year and a half.”
“I like Guerrero. I bet it’s a fifth-floor walk-up, but I don’t really mind that if it’s high enough to get a lot of sun. I wonder what cross street.”
She spent her life following the sun, seeking the brightest apartment in San Francisco. She didn’t really care about any other feature. There was always a sunnier place than the one she had, a better spot for the plants, which accounted for a lot of the moving. When she’d found this place, she’d actually pounced on it while Eric was at work, and he’d come home to an empty apartment because she’d forgotten to tell him they’d moved. “We don’t live here anymore,” she’d told him when she’d finally discovered him, bewildered, in the bare bedroom.
She’d thought this place would be the answer. But it turned out the kitchen wasn’t really very sunny at all.
Eric started cracking eggs. He got egg white on his jeans. He is very handsome, Bridget thought. He loved her in spite of herself, and that seemed like a lucky thing.
“I was calling you because I had an hour free at lunch and I wanted to take you to that little shop behind Union Square to get you a dress for Anna’s wedding.”
“Oh, right.” His cousin Anna was getting married in Petaluma the following weekend, and he was excited about it. Eric thought weddings were romantic, and they gave him the opportunity to bring up the topic of marriage. Bridget got a certain look, somewhere between anticipation and fear, when Eric started talking about getting engaged. “I don’t need a new dress. I can get Carmen to send me one of her leftovers.”
“Carmen is four inches shorter than you are and her clothes are totally wrong for you. Remember that weird black stretchy thing with the feathers?”
Bridget laughed. “That didn’t look great on me. I admit.”
He came over and put his arms around her and kissed the side of her neck. “You are going to be the most beautiful woman at that thing. I want you to wear your hair down. I want to show you off. Let me be shallow once