The Friends We Keep (26 page)

77

 

It's said that a person is known by the company she keeps.

Before the reemergence of Sophie and John in my life, what company had I kept? Not much. Hardly any. How had I spent my “free” time? (Why free? Why, also, “spare”? Wasn't every moment of a life necessary?)

Here's how. Having sex without commitment with a variety of men about whom I knew very little beyond their approximate salaries and social position.

I kept, of course, the company of my colleagues, five days a week. But nothing could be said about me as a person by the presence down the hall of Jack Grossman, COO, or the presence at the reception desk of Marcella whatever-her-name-is.

And then there was Jake. His was the company I most kept right then, aside from the colleagues, random entities in my life. And yet I was forced to keep his presence from the two people who suddenly meant the most to me, the two people who'd barged into my life with the excuse of being “old friends,” a title they seemed to think conferred rights and privileges in the present.

I couldn't tell Sophie or John the truth about me because the truth would make them hate me. I didn't want them to hate me.

I am a keeper of secrets; therefore, one might argue, I am a liar. Why, I wondered, would anyone want to keep my company?

78

 

“Sophie, sit down. I have something to tell you.”

When Ben walked through the door of my apartment that evening his expression was dark. I'd suspected something was wrong. Now, I was sure of it.

He's breaking up with me, I thought. Of course. And sitting down to hear the news was not going to help one little bit. Why is it, I wondered, that men expect women to faint at a moment of crisis? I've never fainted, not even when Jake fell off his bike when he was four and knocked out his beautiful little baby teeth. There was blood everywhere but I was perfectly calm and—

“Sophie?”

“I prefer to stand, thank you,” I said, my voice a bit shrill.

“Okay. Well, I'm going to sit.” He sank heavily onto the couch. “I really don't know how to say this, so—”

“Just say it, Ben.”

Ben's face took on a ghastly look. And then I thought: Oh, no, he's not breaking up with me, he's going to tell me he has cancer.

I fell into the armchair facing him. Maybe it would be better to sit.

“About lunch today.”

“Yes,” I prodded, with a conscious effort to sound encouraging rather than defensive.

“There wasn't really an emergency.” Ben's eyes held mine. “I lied,” he said, “and I'm sorry.”

“Why? Didn't you want to meet Eva? She's my friend. I was embarrassed.” The last was a lie but what with the sitting and the standing and Jake's knocking out his teeth and Ben's having cancer I think I can be excused.

“I'm sorry. Really.” Ben sighed and leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “The thing is, Sophie, I did show up at the restaurant. I saw the two of you at the table, your favorite one in the corner, and, well, I just couldn't join you. Not until talking to you first.”

The bad feeling in my stomach intensified and I thought I might have to dash to the bathroom. “Ben,” I said, “this is very confusing. Please just tell me what you're trying to tell me.”

Ben paused before saying: “Sophie, I used to date your friend Eva. For about eight months. And I was the one who ended the relationship.”

“What?” I asked stupidly. “What do you mean?”

“Believe me, I had no idea that your friend Eva was the woman I once knew.”

I sank back farther into the chair and put my hands to my head. “Oh, my God, Ben, this can't be happening!”

Ben got up from the couch and came to my side, where he knelt. He put his hand on my knee; it jerked reflexively away.

“But it is happening,” he said gently. “When I saw the two of you there together I was stunned. Never in a million years did I suspect the two women were the same.”

I let my hands fall to my lap and thought: Maybe it's not true. Maybe my Ben is not the horrible person who broke Eva's heart. Maybe my Ben was involved with Eva before that horrible person . . .

“When was this?” I asked abruptly. “When were you two involved?”

Ben told me. The timing was perfect.

“That man. I never, ever thought that you of all people could be the man who—”

A small, bitter-sounding laugh escaped Ben's throat. “What? The man who treated her like scum?”

I opened my mouth to say something, I don't know what, but Ben spoke first.

“It's okay,” he said, rising to his feet and moving off a few steps. “You don't have to tell me. I can imagine the sort of tales she told about me. Eva was very good at blaming other people whenever something went wrong.”

I felt angry. I didn't want to hear critical things about my friend. At the same time, reason reminded me that there are always at least two sides to a story. So I said nothing to Ben. I just listened, as I'd listened when Eva had first told me her side of things.

“Every time I called her I felt as if I were bothering her. She mocked my profession and my friends at the college. After the first month I stopped inviting her to spend time with them. She never introduced me to any of her friends. Finally, it dawned on me that maybe she had no friends. By the end she'd only let me see her once a week. It was ridiculous. And insulting. So, I ended it.”

“Yes,” I said carefully. “You told me.”

There were realities I would have to get used to—like the fact that Ben had wanted to be with Eva, that he'd had sex with her, made love to her . . .

“I'm sure I could have done certain things differently,” Ben said suddenly. He was leaning against the dining table, talking to the far wall. “The failure of a relationship is rarely the fault of one partner entirely.”

“Yes,” I murmured.

Ben sighed and came back to the couch. “But in the end,” he said, “I just didn't want to try any longer. I wanted to meet someone who would know how to be a partner, not an adversary.”

We sat silently for what seemed like a long time. Finally, I said, “I guess I painted a picture of Eva that's not entirely accurate. But she's my friend. It's not in my nature to talk critically about my friends.”

“One of the things I admire about you, Sophie,” Ben said gently, “is your loyalty to your friends. And I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm criticizing Eva. I guess I'm just trying to help you to see the truth.”

Ben's version of the truth, or Eva's?

“What are we going to do?” I asked. “We can't keep our relationship a secret from Eva. But it's going to be terribly hard to tell her.”

“Neither of us has done anything wrong, Sophie. Eva won't like it but she'll come around.”

I wondered. And the look on Ben's face betrayed that he, too, wasn't so sure that Eva would be able or willing to accept the news of our romance.

“I think,” I said, “that I need to be alone tonight. I need to sort things out.”

Ben began to protest. Instead, he picked up his bag and walked to the door. “Call me later if you want to talk,” he said. “Please?”

I nodded. And Ben left.

79

 

“Jake, I have something to tell you.”

We were in the kitchen. Jake had come by for his laundry.

“What's wrong, Mom?” he asked.

I took a deep breath. “Jake, Ben used to date Eva. They were together for about eight months. It was a few years ago but Eva still thinks about him. She told me he was the only one she ever considered marrying. And then he broke her heart.”

Jake turned away and reached for a glass from the dish drainer.

“Jake,” I said. “Did you hear me?”

He turned back. I noticed he looked a little pale. I hoped he wasn't coming down with something. When Jake caught a cold he was sick for weeks.

“She never told me about—I mean, you never mentioned some big love of her life.”

“Well,” I said, “Eva's love life is really none of your business. It's really none of mine, either. Only, of course, now it is . . . Oh, I wish she had never told me about Ben!”

Jake put down the glass he'd been holding. “When you met Ben did you know he'd gone out with Eva?”

“No!” I explained how Ben had seen Eva and me at the restaurant. “Eva never told me his name and even if she had, I never would have suspected that my Ben had been her boyfriend. Ben and Eva are so different. I just can't see them together!”

“Yeah. I can't see it, either.”

“What?” I asked.

Jake cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

“Oh, Jake, I'm so confused.”

“What's there to be confused about? She's not involved with him anymore, right?”

“Right.”

“And you trust Ben, right?”

“Of course I trust him,” I said automatically, but I wasn't entirely sure that I did. Was Eva right after all? Had Ben left her for another woman? Had he really broken her heart? Or had Eva broken her own heart?

“So, what's the problem?” Jake asked. I noted that his color had returned.

“The problem,” I told him, “is that I feel guilty for being in love with Eva's ex-boyfriend.”

Jake laughed. “Mom, that's ridiculous. You've done nothing wrong. How can you possibly feel guilty?”

“Because I do. And I also feel guilty about keeping this from Eva. I hate secrets. I hate them. They always mean trouble.”

I thought of the secrets Brad had kept from me over the years. And again I wondered: If I had known about his affairs at the time, would that knowledge have helped our flagging relationship or ended it more quickly?

“So,” Jake was saying, “tell her. She'll understand.”

“I'm not so sure she will, Jake. You didn't hear her talk about how hurt she was when she and Ben broke up.”

“Mom, Eva is”—He stopped, folded his arms—“I mean, she seems like a pretty tough cookie. Maybe things will be a bit awkward for a while but everything will even out, I'm sure of it.”

“Maybe,” I murmured.

“Besides, maybe Eva has someone new in her life, someone who's made her forget about Ben.”

I shook my head. “No, no, Eva has no one. She'd tell me if she was seeing anyone special, I know she would.”

“Maybe she wants to keep him to herself for a while,” Jake suggested. “You know, like you did with Ben.”

I looked closely at my son. “Jake, do you know something I don't?”

“Of course not,” he protested. “How would I know anything about Eva's personal life?”

I sighed. “No, I guess you wouldn't. But you won't tell Eva about Ben, will you?”

“Why would I tell her?” Jake sounded annoyed. “Anyway, I mean, I don't even know where she lives. It's not like I talk to her or anything.”

I shook my head. “No, of course not, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying. I guess I meant if you bump into her on the street sometime.”

Jake came to my side and put his arm around me for a reassuring squeeze. “I'll keep my mouth shut, I promise,” he said. “This thing will be our little secret for now.”

“Secrets! They always seem to go hand in hand with lies!”

“Sometimes keeping a secret is a good thing, Mom,” Jake reasoned. “You know that. Like when revealing something will hurt someone unnecessarily.”

“Unfortunately,” I pointed out, “in this case I have no choice. Eva has to be told about Ben and me. And I just know she'll be furious!”

Jake sighed and moved off toward the fruit bowl. I was glad to see that he was eating healthily.

“Jake,” I asked suddenly, “do you have secrets from me?”

Jake coughed on a bite of banana. “Of course,” he said when he'd recovered. “Everybody has little secrets, you know.”

“Promise me you'll never keep anything really big from me? Promise you'll let me help you if you're in trouble or if I can advise you or be happy with you?”

“Mom, how can I—”

“Please, Jake, promise?”

Jake sighed and tossed the banana skin into the sink. Just like his father. I'm not sure Brad ever knew the location of the garbage can. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I promise to let you know the important stuff.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Jake. And thanks for listening.” And then something else occurred to me. “Jake?” I asked. “You do like Ben, right? I mean, you think he's a good person?”

“Yeah, I like him. But Mom, you're going to have to trust your instincts on this one. You know him better than I do.”

“Yes,” I said, “I suppose so.” But I wondered if Eva knew him even better than I did.

“Mom, look, I have to go. I've got a seminar at five.”

“When will you eat dinner?” I asked as Jake grabbed his bag and headed for the front door.

Jake turned, kissed my cheek, and said, “Right after, I promise. Stop worrying. Stress will kill you.”

And then he was gone. I felt bad for having dragged him into the whole mess. I'd always tried to keep my troubles from Jake but ever since the divorce I'd come to look upon him as a bit of a friend as well as my child. It was unfair of me, I know, especially when Jake had so much on his own plate with school and baseball and his friends. Of what importance could a romantic triangle—consisting of his mother, his mother's friend, and that friend's ex-boyfriend—be to a twenty-one-year-old?

I'd call Jake and apologize. Better yet, maybe I'd give his apartment that surprise cleaning. Or bake him some brownies. A young man shouldn't be worried about cholesterol!