Alan had been struggling valiantly for the past five minutes to separate a single mint from the others in the dish—they had apparently adhered together at some point (possibly during the heat wave of 1977)—but now he looked up and said sharply, “There most definitely is a difference between turtles and tortoises. Turtles live primarily in water, and tortoises live primarily on land.”
“I’m not sure that counts as a difference if no one knows it,” Audra said.
“I knew it,” Alan said. “Most people know it.”
“Well, then, perhaps you know the difference between plantains and bananas,” Manny said challengingly. “Or don’t they have shows about that on Animal Planet?”
“I didn’t learn the difference between turtles and tortoises on TV,” Alan said. “I learned it in school.”
“What grade?”
“Fourth, I believe.”
“Well, I guess Audra here and I both happened to be sick on the selfsame day of our respective fourth grades,” Manny said. “Because neither of us knew that.”
“I guess so,” Alan said, missing the sarcasm completely. “It was in the Life Science unit. And to answer your earlier question, there’s a difference between plantains and bananas.”
The conversation seemed completely out of control, topic-wise, but suddenly Clayton said, “Now, look here. Has Matthew joined some other club?”
Ah, so this was the crux of it, as with any breakup. They thought Matthew was seeing someone else. It actually surprised Graham that it had taken them this long to ask. Wasn’t that pretty much the first thing anyone wondered in a breakup? And wasn’t it usually true? And what was worse, finding out that the person you loved was seeing someone else—possibly meeting someone else in midtown hotels—or finding out that they’d just sort of outgrown you?
“No, no,” he said. “It’s really a matter of more demanding schoolwork.”
After that, there didn’t seem to be much point in further discussion, so they finished their drinks and Alan managed to separate another mint from the pack. Then they all made their way down the hall to the door, with the usual rumble of disjointed conversation—Clayton saying, “Tell Matthew he’s welcome on a drop-in basis,” and Alan saying, “I suppose you think a cold spell and a cold snap are the same thing, too,” to Audra.
Graham found himself suddenly reluctant to close the door behind them while they waited for the elevator. They looked like such a ragtag, dispirited group. He had to remind himself that they always looked that way. And yet, he felt infinitely, unbearably lucky as he stood there with his arm around Audra.
Manny looked at Graham and shrugged. “One door closes and another opens,” he said.
Graham didn’t think that was really the right metaphor for this situation. It was more like an emotional food chain: Derek Rottweiler had broken up with Matthew, and Matthew had broken up with the Origami Club, and now the Origami Club would—would—would tell some new club member his creases weren’t sharp enough and force him to leave. And meanwhile, that awful kid, Mick Whatsit, reigned triumphant as the apex predator (Graham was certain this term was applicable in a thousand ways). But sooner or later someone would break up with Mick, too.
The thought made Graham so happy he gave Audra a little squeeze.
—
Audra had come up with a new idea to win Derek Rottweiler back.
“He loves to go fishing,” she said. “So we’ll invite him to spend a day fishing with us—I already researched it and there are lots of places on City Island where they do these all-day fishing trips—and he won’t refuse because he likes fishing so much. Matthew told me that. And then Derek will spend all these happy hours with Matthew and remember how much he likes him and all the good times they’ve had together and they’ll be friends again.”
Was it just Graham or did that sound a lot like the sort of bad idea you had sometimes where you called your former girlfriend up and asked if you could stop by because you were pretty sure you’d left your green T-shirt at her apartment but really you just wanted her to fall back in love with you, and when you got there, your former girlfriend (a) had forgotten you were coming, (b) was there with her new boyfriend, or (c) both.
He must have looked skeptical because Audra sighed softly and said, “Well, at the very least, maybe Derek will be nicer to Matthew, hoping we’ll invite him again.”
Graham did have doubts, of course, but he was as eager as Audra was to reinstate the Matthew-Derek merger, so he agreed. And then Audra gave him this big rap about how fishing was a manly activity and so Graham, being the man, should be the one to call Jerry Rottweiler, another man, and invite Derek, a very small man, to go fishing with him and Matthew. Graham suspected that Audra just didn’t want to talk to Brenda Rottweiler after the last phone call, but he agreed anyway and called.
Brenda answered in her scared-rabbit voice. “Hello?”
Graham decided not to bother asking for Jerry and instead just said that this weekend they were going on a family fishing trip—“Striped bass fishing trip!” Audra whispered urgently—and they thought perhaps Derek would like to join them.
“Just a minute,” Brenda said, “I’ll see if he’s available,” as though Derek Rottweiler were the prime minister and Brenda his humble secretary.
She was gone somewhat longer than it would have taken for her to say Do you want to go fishing with Matthew? and Derek Rottweiler to say I’d love to, but she eventually did come back and said, “Derek would like that very much.” (Thank God.)
She and Graham worked out the logistics, and as soon as they hung up, Audra went online and booked them tickets on a fishing boat called the Sapphire for Saturday morning. The tickets cost one hundred dollars each, which seemed like kind of a lot of money for a trip that three of them didn’t really want to go on, but Graham didn’t hesitate.
Though it did occur to him: were they not, in effect, bribing Derek Rottweiler? Were they not attempting to buy his friendship? Were they not offering payment for something that ought to be freely and naturally given, something that was in fact priceless? Yes, indeed. Just show me where to sign.
—
They picked Derek Rottweiler up at five-thirty in the morning on Saturday. The things we do for love! (Walking in the rain and the snow? The person who wrote that song knew nothing about love. And clearly did not have children.)
Derek and Brenda Rottweiler were waiting in front of their building. Brenda was dressed in a blue sweat suit but her face was still sleep-creased and her hair was unbrushed. Derek was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and his hair was a curly mass of black ringlets. He clambered into the car and then they all waved to Brenda and pulled away from the curb.
“Hi, Derek!” Matthew said in a soft excited voice.
Derek stared out his window. “Hey,” he said tonelessly.
Graham’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Children were monsters. He didn’t like a single one of them.
“How’s school going, Derek?” Audra asked.
“Okay.”
“And your parents?”