Becoming Ellen by Shari Shattuck Read Free Book Online Page A

translate into something coherent this foreign language called human relations. Temerity had said she liked Amanda. Ellen liked Amanda, too. The young doctor had overseen her recovery from surgery, after calling in favors to get the surgery done in the first place.
    â€œSo . . . what?” Temerity asked after a few seconds.
    â€œUhm . . . Why don’t you seem happy? I mean, about her.”
    They had reached the crosswalk and Temerity felt for the crossing signal. When it cleared for them, the flashing WALK sign was accompanied by a tweeting beep—not unlike birdsong, but too uniform—that meant
go
to the visually impaired in the neighborhood. Temerity still paused to listen carefully that the traffic had stopped in both directions before she started out into the street.
    Temerity’s brow had furrowed and her lips tightened a little as they crossed. She didn’t speak until they got to the bakery, where she handed over the leash and told Ellen she’d be right back. “The usual?” she asked brightly.
    â€œYes, please,” Ellen answered softly, glancing self-consciously at the other pedestrians, though no one paid the least amount of attention to her, as usual. She whispered, “And a coffee with—”
    â€œExtra cream,” Temerity finished for her, barely mouthing the words. Then she leaned over to pet Runt’s head and muttered out of the side of her mouth to Ellen, “Sorry, I didn’t see that you were invisible today.” She giggled.
    Ellen shifted her feet. She told Temerity, “It’s been kind of a weird week.”
    Temerity shook her head. She whispered to Ellen, “I know. Sorry. Sometimes I don’t see the forest for the trees.” She barked out a laugh and went in to be enveloped in the sweet scent of baking, while Ellen waited outside, envious, but also grateful that her friend had the courage to go where she did not.
    To avoid the increasing stream of pedestrians going to work, Ellen led Runt down the side of the bakery and stood against the brick wall. A window, the glass of which was opaque and laced with wire, was partially open, and through the small space wafted the smell of contentment. Standing on her toes, Ellen could see into the kitchen. The gleaming stainless-steel work surfaces were scattered with flour and dough, and two bakers, both plump and dressed loosely in white, worked with silent satisfaction. A small radio played jazz piano. It was a stark, yet beautiful, paradise.
    Ellen was so enthralled by the surfeit of intriguing scents and sights overwhelming her senses that she forgot to watch for Temerity. Looking up quickly, she saw her friend turning in a slow circle and whispering to thin air. Ellen hurried back to her and took the paper bag—emanating wisps of that specific dreamland—and one of the cups of coffee so that Temerity could work her stick. They walked the remaining three blocks to the dog park and let Runt off his leash. He gamboled off to investigate the other two dogs. When one greeted him with a playful bounce, Runt took off like a shot for the far side of the run.
    The two women sat next to each other on their usual bench and wrapped their scarves tightly up around their necks while they sipped the coffee and ate the muffins. Temerity tore her food into bite-size pieces and placed the measured portions into her mouth. It was really quite graceful, which was the opposite of what Ellen had imagined it would be like to watch a blind person eat.
    Temerity said suddenly, “I suppose it’s because I know things will change.”
    Ellen looked around. But except for a couple of other dog owners on the far side of the park, they were alone in the misty a.m. “Wh-what?” she stuttered.
    â€œAmanda and Justice. I suppose I am sort of sad—even though I’m really happy for
him
—because, you know, it won’t be
us
anymore.” She hummed as she