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said yes, you told me it was a terrible war and that it would be wrong and dangerous for me to fight in it. I liked the way you said that.
Wrong and dangerous.”
    The conversation was beginning to come back to me. Joyce and Mitch were both involved in antiwar activities, although there was never much of a peace movement in Idle-wild. When people got drafted, they had a party, got drunk, tried to talk their girlfriend of the moment into having sex, and reported for duty.
    Most of the local protesting consisted of sending indignant letters to Congress and driving to bigger cities to march or demonstrate or demand something from whoever was in charge at the moment. They used to take me with them whenever I wanted to go, and I was caught up in the righteous passion of the demonstrators and their cause. When Mitch first found out Eddie had been drafted, he tried to talk him out of going and even offered to drive him over into Canada to a community of black draft resisters holed up in Windsor, but Eddie just laughed and said somebody had to protect the women and children since all the wimps were getting married and couldn’t be bothered to go.
    “Did I offer to smuggle you into Canada?”
    He laughed. “That’s exactly what you did. You told me Mitch probably couldn’t go right then since he had just gotten married, but you were sure he’d take me first thing in the morning.”
    I could hear myself saying it, too, like it was the only reasonable way to deal with the situation, so, of course, he was going to do it. I was always sure about things in those days. It wasn’t until recently that I started second-guessing myself.
    “You obviously didn’t take my advice,” I said.
    “But I should have,” he said. “You were right. Worst move I ever made.”
    “Well, at least you got it out of the way when you were young,” I said. “I saved my worst moves until much later.”
    “I’ll bet you wouldn’t know a bad move if you saw one,” he said.
    “You’d be surprised.”
    “Maybe we can compare notes one day.” He picked up both plates and headed for the kitchen.
    “It’s a deal,” I said, feeling the weight of the day settling around my shoulders. It was time for me to crash, but I was going to help with the dishes first. I wanted to be sure he washed all the things I’d used in good hot, soapy water. I
know
that’s not the way you get it, but this was no time to be careless.
     
     
• 8
     
    when we pulled up into the yard, Joyce was standing at the door reading my note. She turned and ran down the back steps and grabbed me in a big hug. Joyce gained a lot of weight when Mitch died, and even though it’s been two years, she’s still carrying it. Worrying about me probably hasn’t helped her diet much either. Her cheeks were so chubby that when she smiled, her eyes almost disappeared.
    She reported that Eartha had a baby girl and thanked Eddie for picking me up. I thanked him for dinner and he asked Joyce if her car was still acting funny. When she said it was, he said he’d come by tomorrow and look under the hood before she went back to the hospital. I wondered suddenly if they were lovers, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt like friends.
    As soon as Eddie left and we got inside, Joyce threw her arms around me and started apologizing for being late and asking me if I’d eaten enough and apologizing some more until finally I said, “Hold it! This is the part where you get to ask me how I’m feeling and I get to say I’m feeling fine and you get to look at me hard to see if I’m lying and if I’m not, you get to hug me again and say, welcome home, little sister. You look great!”
    She teared up when I said that, and her body felt soft and plump when she hugged me. I’ve had clients whose husbands died and they blew up like balloons in no time. It’s a lot harder to take care of your body when nobody’s going to see you naked.
    “Welcome home, little sister,” she said. “You look