"Carol, would you mind answering the door when Jonathan gets here?" Martha asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. "You know he's always early."
"No, he's always on time. You're always late," came the response from the living room of their campus apartment, where Carol was curled up on the couch with a magazine.
"Same thing." Martha ducked back into the bathroom and continued struggling with a stubborn earring.
"Do I have to get dressed?"
"Not if you don't want to."
Martha got the earring in and stepped out into the hallway to take a more careful look at her friend. Carol had been confined to the couch all day with some kind of stomach trouble, which had made her uncharacteristically quiet and moody. She insisted she was on the mend, but Martha still had her suspicions. After all, it wasn't like her roommate to let a guy see her in her ratty old bathrobe. "Carol, are you sure you're feeling better? I can stay in if you need—"
Carol rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Mommy. Go on, get your makeup finished. You're not canceling your first date with your dreamboat."
"It's not our first date. Just our first nice date," Martha reminded her. For the past couple of months or so—ever since she'd returned the notebook and steered the conversation to an appointment for a study date—she'd been seeing quite a lot of Jonathan Kent. But somehow it was always informal—study dates, coffee after class, lunch in the cafeteria or a fast-food place, a lecture sponsored by the university's agricultural department. Not exactly the kind of courtship every girl dreams of.
It had taken some strong (though tactful) hinting on her part to finally get him to ask her to dinner. She couldn't figure out what had made him so reluctant to go on a "nice date"—they always had such a great time together—but tonight she was too excited to worry about it.
"Well, you're not canceling that, either." Carol went back to her magazine.
"Maybe you should give M.M. a call," Martha suggested, using their abbreviation for Carol's "mystery man." "That might cheer you up."
"M.M. can go jump off a bridge for all I care," Carol answered morosely, without looking up.
Martha did a double take. "Carol! What happened? I thought everything was going so well!"
"Martha, I really don't want to talk about it, all right?" There was an edge in Carol's voice that Martha had never heard there before. "Just go do your makeup."
Martha looked at her in astonishment. When, in their three years of friendship, had Carol ever not wanted to talk about whatever was on her mind? She stood there indecisively for a moment, but Carol kept her eyes on her reading. Finally Martha shrugged helplessly and went back into the bathroom, pulling the door almost closed behind her.
The knock on the front door came just a minute later. Martha envisioned Carol dragging herself off the couch and forcing a smile as she went to answer it. She might let herself be seen in her bathrobe, but there was no way she was going to let any guy, no matter who, see her in the dumps.
Sure enough, she heard the change in Carol's voice as soon as the door opened. "Well, hi there, handsome. I almost didn't recognize you without your flannel."
"Cleaned up just for you, Carol." Martha could hear the grin in Jonathan's voice. He found her roommate a never-ending source of amusement.
"Yeah, don't I wish. Well, hang on, I'll go get her." Carol came through the hallway to the bathroom and flung the door wide but didn't bother to lower her voice. "Hey, Martha, some good-looking stud is out here waiting for you."
"Carol—" Martha squeaked.
"Where?" Jonathan's voice came from behind Carol. "Where is he? I'll kill him!"
Martha couldn't help laughing. "Will you two get out of here? I'm not ready yet!" She shut the door in Carol's face (but not before peeking over her shoulder to confirm that the suit and tie did become Jonathan very well). "And take your warped humor with you!" she called through the door.
She could hear Jonathan say something to Carol, who laughed, and felt grateful to him for cheering up her glum friend even for a few minutes. The anxiety that had been nagging at her began to dissipate. She finished putting on her lipstick, blotted her lips, and went out into the living room with a smile that wasn't forced.
"I think you ought to do something about her," Jonathan said, still chuckling, as he and Martha came out into the hallway outside the apartment. He reached to open the hall door for her. "She really knows how to embarrass a guy."
"Oh, Carol's beyond hope," Martha laughed. As he held the door, she paused to give him a swift, sweeping glance from head to toe. "But you know, she's very often right about things." She turned and walked demurely through the doorway ahead of him.