“He made you look like a superhero.”
Ivy smiled.
“He made my shoulders very broad.”
“They were pretty useful that night.”
Ivy folded the drawing carefully and placed it in her handbag.
Maya watched her.
“Do you ever wish you’d just stepped aside?”
Ivy considered the question.
She remembered the soup spilling.
The little boy standing directly beneath the tray.
The frightened assistant behind her.
And the sharp pain of the riding crop striking her shoulder.
“No,” she said. “I wish more people had stepped forward afterward.”
Maya nodded.
Then she reached across the table and squeezed Ivy’s hand.
Their lunch arrived.
Maya had ordered a sandwich.
Ivy had ordered chicken soup.
The server placed the steaming bowl in front of her.
For a moment, Maya stared at it.
Then both women began laughing.
“Maybe I should carry that one away,” Maya said.
Ivy picked up her spoon.
“Absolutely not. I’m hungry.”
She tasted the soup.
Added a little pepper.
Then tore a piece from the warm bread beside her plate.
Outside, afternoon traffic moved past the restaurant windows.
Maya began telling Ivy about her brothers’ upcoming school concert.
Ivy listened while the steam rose from her bowl.
