Mourning Becomes Cassandra by Christina Dudley

either.
    Roy was on a roll that week with Joanie because he had scraped together several first-round interviews with different companies. His unemployed status was cramping their dating style, and they had only seen each other at church and Chaff because Roy didn’t want Joanie to treat. Even for the open house he had done his part, showing up with a respectable orzo salad that was his own creation.
    Phyl was 0-for-2 on the invites, and I was secretly hoping the Luckers would go home early and leave us free to play another game of Scrabble.
    Missy’s replacement Michelle was the assertive brunette I remembered from last week, and I preferred her to Missy, if only for the fact that she didn’t seem so desperate for attention. She was an architect in a firm that shared Daniel’s office building in downtown Seattle, and she was refreshingly smart and confident. When I whispered as much to Joanie, Joanie only cracked, “Yeah, and I bet Daniel’s been studying her form and function.” He looked willing to learn, turning on the full charm for her, and she was smart enough to hold herself a little apart.
    After yesterday’s odd conversation with him, I was relieved that he hardly seemed to notice my presence, although I might have preferred disrespectful flirtation to walking on eggshells with the Luckers. Phyl, however, was a little cast down by Michelle’s superiority and was trying to make up for it by being extra nice to her.
    “I think that’s wonderful, that new high-rise your firm designed going up on Camden and Northeast 6 th ,” Phyl said warmly, “Did you play a part in that?”
    “They actually gave me the atrium,” Michelle answered. “I had a great vision for this multi-story waterfall dropping down the center of the grand staircase against a stained-glass backdrop, but alas—cost-cutting measures. The glass made it in, but the waterfall had to go, and the staircase turned out to be much more utilitarian.” She gave a graceful shrug.
    “I love stained glass,” Phyl enthused. “The company that did the glass for our new church building did a beautiful job.”
    “It’s probably the same company the builders are using. There aren’t many in the area—Ascensions and Crucifixions aren’t such a growth industry anymore.” A hint of condescension tinged her voice. “In fact, I wanted my design to reflect a new, secular spirituality, a yearning for transcendence. You know, the human race, kind of, outgrowing the chains that held us back.”
    Phyl looked abashed, but I saw Joanie sitting up a little straighter. “What kind of chains?” she asked innocently. Joanie loved philosophical discussions.
    “Well, chains like religion and old ways of thinking,” Michelle said, with an apologetic smile at Phyl.
    “That sounds good,” said Joanie. “No more religion and old ways of thinking. What are we growing toward? What is our new source of transcendence?”
    Michelle sat up a little straighter. “I would say…compassion. And peace based on tolerance for people’s differences. Growing toward…our potential…Love, I guess.”
    “Love? Oh, I thought you were describing toleration,” said Joanie. “What kind of love? What do you mean by love?”
    Michelle threw a glance at Daniel, as if to say what’s with your intense sister ? but he merely shrugged. One got the sense that she could throw around phrases like “secular spirituality” and “yearning for transcendence” at the office without anyone questioning her. “By love I mean love! We recognize our common humanity. I let you be you, and you let me be me, and we don’t throw bombs at each other.”
    “But what if me being me hurts you? Or what if you being you hurts me? Or what if you being you hurts you? What would love do in that situation?”
    “I’m not following,” Michelle said impatiently. “Are we in college again? This feels like a freshman dorm talk.”
    “I don’t get what you mean by love,” persisted Joanie. “If