David had run off, leaving Walter and Carrie alone in the entryway. “Andy’s quite nice,” Walter said, grabbing her arm and leading her toward the living room. Carrie nodded, feeling out of sorts. Every time she had a tiny success with Adam, something came along and knocked her two steps backward. What she knew deep down was that she’d always have things get in her way when it came to Adam because his world was so different from hers.
“And very pretty,” Walter said, adding salt to her wounds. They sat down on the sofa together. “But I wonder how well she can throw a football?” he said with a devious smile. Carrie laughed. Walter had a way of making things funny, no matter what the circumstance. The mental picture of Andy with a football in her manicured hands made her giggle. Leave it to Walter to find the one thing, without even realizing it, that Carrie knew she could probably do better than Andy.
“The snow has started to subside finally,” Bruce said as he peered out the kitchen window. “The roads look like they’ve been plowed. Makes me feel better about Adam’s friend, Andy, getting around. I worried this afternoon when she left.” Carrie nodded. Despite her anxiety about Andy, she was unable to ignore the buttery smells coming from the oven. It was interesting to her how Adam’s parents felt so much at home in this giant house—they cooked, played games, drank beer—they felt comfortable enough even in Adam’s absence. The way his parents behaved seemed so relaxed and easy, yet Adam had done nothing—that she’d seen—to make them that comfortable. It was as if Adam didn’t fit with them. He was serious, withdrawn, always focused on work, but his parents were the complete opposite.
If she had to choose one person who she thought was most like Adam, it would be his sister, Sharon. She was quiet like him, and seemed to enjoy being alone. She’d spent a lot of time in her room upstairs, and, even during the card games, she seemed content being silent. Something told her that Sharon had more going on than Carrie had seen. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she was usually right about people. Carrie had a sense about them—something about the way they carried themselves, the way they responded to people. She could usually determine what was wrong in a short period of time, and she was almost always right.
Sharon was sitting at the table with Olivia and David, drawing a picture. Carrie sat down beside them. Sharon was extremely thin, almost boney, and she always seemed to close in on herself—her arms crossed, her shoulders hunching slightly forward, as if she wanted to crawl into a ball and hide. She was so completely different than Joyce and Bruce. Even Adam had an affectionate side to him. Sharon didn’t have that same look in her eyes. She had a look of… Disappointment, maybe? Carrie couldn’t tell, but there was something there.
Sharon’s husband, Eric, came in and sat down beside her. At supper the other night, he’d participated in the conversations, smiled, played cards, but he seemed to always have his eye on Sharon as if protecting her from something. Whenever she’d stood, Eric would give a tiny lurch forward as if he were going to catch her. Eric had stayed downstairs after supper last night, but Sharon had gone up early, and today was the first time Carrie had had a chance to really be with her. She tried to see if Sharon showed any signs that she could be suffering from some sort of illness or something, but her skin was rosy, her hair healthy—there was no outward sign, except for her tired eyes.
“Can you make a dress for her?” Olivia asked Sharon, pointing to a drawing of a circle with legs. For the first time since she’d seen her, Sharon’s eyes had life. She smiled, affection for her niece seeping out from every bit of her face, taking Carrie completely by surprise. She’d always been good at assessing situations, but this one she hadn’t anticipated. There was something about Olivia that could light Sharon right up. As she thought back, this was the first time Olivia had been awake when Sharon was around, so she hadn’t seen her interact with children, but her face was brighter when she talked to Olivia. Then, as Sharon looked back down at the paper, her face fell into its neutral position, the withdrawn look returning. It was the oddest thing.
“So, Carrie, did Adam say if he was coming out of the office today?” Bruce asked. Carrie shook her head. Andy had left after a few hours, and Adam had been in the office ever since. The coffee pot beeped and Bruce got up to get a cup. The massive kitchen had deep cranberry-colored walls and stainless steel appliances, giving the room a formal look, but with everyone in it, it seemed cozy. Olivia offered David a brown crayon.