Outwardly, Maria--a working class Filipina-American--and Elizabeth--a middle-class White American--had little in common. But both of them were among that small community of women who had chosen to return to their aged bodies, and both had gone through some heavy changes since the Great Change.
"I'm so sorry about Robbie" said Maria "I'll pray for her."
It was exactly what Elizabeth wanted to hear. She was tired of people telling her that Robbie was a terrible person and Elizabeth was well rid of her. Robbie wasn't a terrible person, and the end of Elizabeth's marriage should be mourned, not celebrated. Maria seemed to get that.
Maria went on to tell the story of how she had left her fundamentalist community and come to accept that the Great Change had been God's will. Elizabeth had no sympathy with fundamentalism, but she recognized the pain Maria had suffered from losing the community she had been a part of for decades. The two were still talking as the restaurant began to close, so they went to Maria's apartment to finish their conversation. Elizabeth started yawning, and Maria offered to let her stay the night rather than drive home. (The kids were with Robbie that weekend.) There was only Maria's bed, and the two women flopped on it, exhausted and quickly falling asleep.
Elizabeth awoke before Maria, with Maria's arm around her and Maria's callused fingers on her breast. Well, this is awkward, she thought, but kind of nice?