The Leftovers

together until the lights came on. He’d walked her to her car and said good night like a gentleman, shaking her hand, telling her how much he had enjoyed her company. Her sister was standing right there, a squat, impatient-looking woman, so it didn’t go any further than that.
    “Call me sometime,” she told him. “I’m in the book.”
    “Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll do that.”
    He’d meant it, too. Why wouldn’t he? She was smart and pretty and easy to talk to, and it wasn’t like he had a whole lot going on at the moment. But three weeks had passed and he still hadn’t made the call. He’d thought about it a lot, enough that he no longer had to look up her number in the Mapleton white pages. But dancing with her was one thing, and going on a date, actually getting to know her, getting close to whatever it was she had to live with—that was something else entirely.
    She’s out of my league, he told himself, without really knowing what he meant by that, what league either one of them belonged to.
    He drove Jill back to school, then went home and lifted weights in his basement, an ambitious dumbbell workout that got a nice pump going in his arms and chest. He cooked roast chicken and potatoes for the girls, read a chapter of American Lion after dinner, and then wandered over to the Carpe Diem, where the night passed without any surprises, just the familiar faces and pleasant banter of people who knew each other a little too well and would be doing the exact same thing tomorrow.
    It wasn’t until he got into bed that his thoughts returned to Nora, the jolt he’d felt when she passed him on her bike. In the daylight, the moment had come and gone in a jumbled rush, but in the dark, in the hush of his bedroom, it slowed and sharpened. In this simplified version, Jill wasn’t with him; Main Street was empty. Not only that, Nora wasn’t wearing spandex or a helmet, just the same pretty dress she’d worn at the dance. Her hair was loose and flowing, her voice clear and firm as she floated by.
    “Coward,” she said, and all he could do was nod.
     

THE BEST CHAIR IN THE WORLD
    IN THE CAR, NORA DID her best to act like it was no big deal, like going to the mall at the height of the holiday season was just something you did—because you were an American, because Christmas was right around the corner, because you were part of an extended family whether you liked it or not, and needed to buy gifts for a certain number of your relatives. Karen followed her lead, keeping the conversation light and casual, not saying anything to call attention to the significance of the journey, to suggest that Nora was “being brave” or “taking a step forward” or “getting on with her life,” any of the patronizing phrases she’d come to despise.
    “It’s hard to shop for teenage boys,” Karen said. “They won’t even tell me which video games they want, like I’m supposed to know the difference between Brainwave Assassin 2 and Brainwave Assassin Special Edition. Plus, I told them I wouldn’t get anything rated M—I don’t even like the T games, to be honest—so that really limits my options. And the boxes they come in are so small, it just looks … empty under the tree, not like when they were little and you had all these presents spilling out, taking up the whole living room. That really felt like Christmas.”
    “Maybe books?” Nora said. “They like to read, right?”
    “I guess.” Karen kept her eyes straight ahead, fixed on the glowing taillights of the Explorer in front of them. Traffic was heavy for seven-thirty in the evening, almost like rush hour; apparently, the herd had made a collective decision to do some shopping. “They like that fantasy crap, and all the titles sound the same. Last Christmas I got Jonathan one of those boxed set trilogies— The Werewolves of Necropolis, or something—and it turned out he already owned them. They were right there on his bookshelf. It was like that with everything. I don’t think the boys got anything that really made them happy.”
    “Maybe you should surprise them. Don’t focus so much on the things you know they want. Introduce them to something new.”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know. Like surfboards or something. Gift certificates for rock climbing or scuba lessons, that kind of thing.”
    “Hmmm.” Karen seemed intrigued. “That’s not such a bad idea.”
    Nora couldn’t tell if her sister was being sincere, but it