The Six Rules of Maybe

sniffs. A crumb from someone who gave nothing was a million dollars and a crumb from someone who always gave was just a crumb.
    “I’m going off on my own when we get there, okay?” I said to Juliet in the ferry bathroom from my side of the stall. “I’ve got a lot of places I want to go, and it’ll be faster.”
    “No problem,” she said.
    We each came out, stood at the sink, and washed our hands. “You want to come when we pick out the crib?”
    “I thought you were shopping for clothes.”
    “That, too. But Mom gave us money to get a crib.” She leaned toward the mirror, opened her purse, and took out her brush, combed her hair shiny and straight. I thought of them walking hand in hand in the baby aisles, a peachy glow around them like some sort of heaven-moment in the movies.
    “The slats of the crib have to be really close together. If you can fit a soda can through, they’re too far apart. The baby’s head can get stuck.”
    “Thanks, Scarlet,” she said, as if she already knew this even though I was sure she didn’t. She studied her face for a moment,then closed her purse again and turned away from her image. “Well, I guess I’m still me, only pregnant.”
    I played a successful game of Dodge Juliet and Hayden in the mall, seeing them only once, at one of the iron tables in front of Joy Juice, sharing a large drink from one straw. We met up afterward and got back into the car, Juliet in the middle and me on the outside edge by the window, where it seemed I had always been and might always be. We’d timed the ferry just right so we didn’t even have to wait in line. Juliet and Hayden both seemed happy. They held hands across the seat of Mom’s car, and Hayden would bring their joined hands to his mouth for an occasional kiss. They were in love, and that was good. When you cared about someone, you wanted for them most what they themselves wanted, I reminded myself again. Juliet was calm and light and joking, and Hayden’s eyes glowed with warmth and hope for all their future days together. Yeah, it all made me a little sick.
    On the ferry, we sat on two bench seats across from each other. One of Juliet’s legs was flung over Hayden’s knee, and he rubbed it slowly. Juliet said something like, Did you hear that airplane? which made them both crack up in the annoying way of couples with their stupid inside jokes. I wanted them to be happy; it’s what I hoped for most. I would have done anything for her to love him properly, I would. For him and for Jitter and for her, too. But the real truth was, you could want one thing and have a secret wish for its opposite.
    I watched the rushing waters of the Sound outside my large window, but the scenery was making me think too much, like scenery does. So I put my back against the window instead and played the game I rarely but sometimes played in public places where therewere lots of people, the Maybe My Father Is Here and I Don’t Know It game. It wasn’t some depressed, obsessed activity or anything—the game was more just curiosity and boredom, the way you looked for out of state license plates on long car rides. Maybe that was him in the suit and long overcoat, reading the fat Robert Ludlum book. Maybe that was him with two sticky kids and a wife with hair down to her waist like a prairie woman.
    I was amusing myself in this manner, searching for men with Juliet’s blond hair, when their laughter abruptly stopped. It was one of those times when you could feel the change in the room come suddenly. I looked over. Juliet’s leg was off Hayden’s; she was staring just behind me, her face pale, and he was looking at her and leaning forward a little, trying to understand.
    “Juliet?”
    I looked over my shoulder, and I saw them. Buddy Wilkes—and you’d never believe it, never—sweet, delicate Elizabeth Everly, walking down the aisle past the bench seats. He was saying something to her, but she wasn’t listening, mocking him, maybe; it was something that caused her to shrug her shoulders in a way that meant his words were completely unimportant to her. And then it happened, as we all watched. Me and Juliet, but Hayden, too. Me and Juliet and Hayden and a previously limp, bored couple in my line of vision, and an old man standing by the candy machine, and a single woman drinking coffee and doing a crossword puzzle. We all saw, as Buddy, in his jeans and T-shirt with a dress shirt loose over it, grabbed the top of Elizabeth Everly’s arms