When Girlfriends Break Hearts (13 page)

“Hey, Conner. Claire around?”
 

“Yeah, in the bedroom or bath or something. I don’t know. She’s around here somewhere.” The room smelled of cinnamon and baked goods. “She made some oatmeal raisin cookies.”
 

“Score! Just what I need. I’m starving.” I bounded into the kitchen to snag a cookie or two. Claire was a good baker and was always keen to try for herself one of my latest recipes or break open one of her many cookbooks.

I sauntered about the house in search of Claire, and when she was nowhere to be found and the master bathroom door was shut, I figured that’s where she was.
 

“Claire? You in there?”

“Taking a bath. Come in if you like.”

She was leaning back in a relaxing bath full of lavender scented bubbles. I took a bite of one of the cookies I had stolen from the warm sheet.

“Mmmm,” I said. “Delish.”

“Your recipe, girl.” She didn’t seem to harbor any hard feelings about our somewhat rough lunch, and I was relieved. Having Claire in my back pocket as my best friend for life was essential. Life without her was, well, pretty unimaginable.
 

“So did you get the word from all the girls?” I inquired. “Start at
Vogue
tomorrow night and make our way from there? Cruise along Broadway; maybe venture out Belltown’s way and see if any good music’s happening or something fun? Have you called Jackie? Lara? They’re both coming, right?”

“I got a hold of Jackie.” Claire blew some bubbles out of her hand. “Couldn’t reach Lara. Maybe you want to try her again?”

“Oh great,” I groaned. “I know I have to, but I so don’t want to—to tell her the whole story. You know I’ll have to give the scoop yet again.”

“I can tell her if it’ll make it easier on you.” Claire was truly a doll. “But I bet she already knows. Seeing how she’s so close to Robin and all.” She had a point. Maybe I wouldn’t have to run through the sordid details
yet again
.
 

“No, no,” I refused. “It’s my mess. I’ll deal with it if I have to. Maybe Robin did the dirty work for me already. I’ll go give her a call anyhow and see if she wants to go out with us. I haven’t talked to her in forever. You enjoy your bath.”

***

Calling Lara to regurgitate the news was not top on my list of things to do. Lately it seemed that was all I did. But I really had no choice. If Lara didn’t already know, she’d find out sooner or later. And the last thing I really needed was to have another friend on my “bad list,” which could happen if I pushed her out of my life like I had Robin, and kept her out of the drama loop.

I retrieved my iPhone from my purse that I had slung down by the front door when I came home. Conner was still in his relaxed position on the sofa, looking utterly exhausted.

“Rough day at work?” I inquired, stalling.
 

“Oh God,” he groaned. “T.G.I.F. That’s all I can say. T-G-I-F.”

“Ditto that.”

“What are you doing tonight?” He stretched his arms in a wide arc and let out an exasperated yawn. “Going out again?”

“No, we’re going out tomorrow. I don’t know what we’ll do tonight. You and Claire got a hot date planned?” I half kidded. I hoped they weren’t still bickering, and that whatever had unnerved Claire the other night was old news.

He snickered. “Nah. I’ll romance her tonight.” He raised his eyebrows up and down repeatedly in a cheesy way. He had a knack for being, well, a guy, and making immature sexual references, always at Claire’s expense.

He became serious. “Nah. Hanging out with Chad. Probably go get some drinks. Bowl. I don’t know. Something.”

The mention of Chad’s name still made my hair stand on end. Not good. Not bad. Chad Harris and I had history, however brief, and the mention of his name or being around him always made me feel somehow “off.” I guess given our history I couldn’t exactly be one hundred percent
me
in his company. One look at Chad and I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him, kiss him, or just bury myself in a hole and hide.

Chad was Conner’s fraternity brother and roommate back in college. They met during freshman year through rush and ended up pledging the same House. They became House roommates and eventually apartment roomies. They were each other’s best buds, beer mates, table tennis and bowling partners, you name it. Claire and I often joked that had Conner not swept Claire off her feet it would have been Chad in her place.
 

Chad was attractive, no question about it. He had the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on that I totally dug. But he wasn’t the usual clean-cut kind of guy that I would bring home to Mom and Dad, proud that I had found someone who rocked my world
and
could most likely gain a few points of approval from my parents with his pre-law or pre-med or pre-something-prestigious track. And thank God I never brought him to Santa Barbara to meet my parents. But one night stands or flings or whatever you want to call a no-strings-attached mistake usually don’t fall into the category of “relationships” that you reveal to your parents.

No. Chad, whom I had met through Conner, whom I had met through Claire, started out as nothing more than a friend. No friends with benefits. No instant love connection. And I don’t even think instant attraction on his part. I was definitely attracted to Chad the moment I met him, but once I got to know him after a few times hanging out with Claire and Conner I pushed all attraction from my mind and told myself that this party guy was not for me: a recipe for disaster.

Besides, Chad was a typical fraternity guy if there ever was one. If booze, boobs, and beer pong weren’t involved he wasn’t interested. It was all about skidding by in school and living for the frat. As far as I knew he did well enough in his classes, surprisingly, and he certainly wasn’t all doobies and booze all the time…but a fair enough amount of time.
 

His parents were, also surprisingly, as much country club parental types like my own, keeping for themselves an impressive home up in the Green Lake district. I figured a Chad character, especially given his appearance, would come from a rough home of sorts, or at least a home where country club golf tournaments and opera after-parties weren’t weekend priorities. Save his preference for everything Abercrombie, his perpetual five o’clock shadow and scruffy look that somehow said “I just rolled out of bed and I don’t own a mirror,” paired with his messy hair made him look like he was down and out on his luck and buck. He definitely didn’t look like, or give off the vibe, of a son of whom I’m pretty certain is an IT millionaire.

Then somewhere between sophomore year and now he started to collect tattoos. And then, God help him, a lip ring. It was a small ring, just off to the left corner of his bottom lip, but when he came home with that one even Conner said, “Man, what the hell?” That was Chad. I guess he was kind of like Jackie and living life in the moment. He felt like doing something different, I recall him saying after I spotted the ring and made an unpleasant face. I also recall him blowing me a little kiss, then giving me a wink after I told him I thought he was nuts for piercing his face. Not an unexpected reaction given our “history.”

With his messy hair, his wrinkled clothes, and even his ever-growing collection of tattoos, Chad was still attractive in some über-masculine / bad boy way. I can’t explain it any better than that. Claire said I was going through my rebel phase and I still haven’t been able to draw any better a conclusion for why on Earth I slept with Chad one summer night. Seriously, what was I thinking?

The worst part about it was that Chad and I both knew what we were getting ourselves into. We both knew we probably weren’t going to end up in a serious relationship, and doubted we’d be anything more than a one-night deal. We also knew that we’d still be friends, at the very least acquaintances with best friends who dated each other, because there was no getting around seeing each other when we were both good friends with Conner and Claire. We knew afterward we’d probably feel awkward and maybe even regret our decision to have sex. Yet we still did it.
 

And I’ll be honest. I’ve only ever told Claire this—it was good. Really good. And if I could turn back the hands of time and do it again, I would. If I could have a redo I would succumb to Chad’s advances that summer night at his parents’ home, right there in the pool. No-shame, bear-it-all-to-the-world in the pool. Right there, in the middle of the night, just the two of us in the pool, Chad showed me what I was positive he’d shown many girls over on sorority row. If there was a Greek philanthropic week of events on campus going on, or some frat party, or something where the frats fraternize with their “sisters,” you can bet Chad had a busy agenda.

Then over a bottle of Chardonnay and with what I’m pretty sure was
Spartacus
playing on the giant plasma TV in his bedroom, Chad and I did it again. And then once more.
Spartacus
still playing. All wine drunk.

And the craziest part about it all was that the next morning we both agreed it was a one-time thing and it was probably best we leave it at that. I told Claire, Chad told Conner, and from then on we all pretended it never happened and chalked it all up to “those wild and crazy college days.”

Yet even if it was just a “wild and crazy college thing,” I’d be lying if I said that Chad still didn’t rouse my emotions in some way. Good or bad. Anyhow, on rare occasions Chad found it comical to still blow a little kiss my way, or send me a wink, or even pinch my waist simply because he knew it drove me mad.
 

“Have fun then,” I told Conner, snatching up my iPhone and heading off to my bedroom, pushing any more thoughts of Chad far from my mind.

It was time to contact Lara now. I had a girls’ night to plan. And I probably had to run through the update of events to Lara, which I was dreading. I thought the easiest way to broach the subject was to just pick up the phone, dial her number, and lay it out there. But I’d be succinct and keep it brief.

“Hello?” Lara answered.

“Hey, girl. It’s Sophie.” My voice was chipper. I figured the only direction the conversation and tone would take would be down, so it was best to start off as chipper and positive as possible. Pamela and Claire would be proud. I was finally getting a hold of the loose strings bit by bit and recovery wasn’t
too
far in sight.

We chatted for a short while, catching up on little bits of news in regards to work and such. Then it was finally time to break into the nitty gritty topic.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Lara,” I started, sighing heavily. “I found out Brandon cheated on me.”

The other end of the phone was quiet. After what I figured was too lengthy a silence, I asked if she was still there.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”
 

“Shocking, huh?”

No response. She couldn’t be
that
surprised. So stunned she couldn’t speak.

“Lara?”

“Sophie, I know.”
 

“Know what? Oh, did you talk to Jackie?” No response. “I guess Robin, huh?” Figured since Robin was her best friend.

“Yeah.” That was all she said.

“Well, then I guess I don’t have to rehash the whole thing.” I stifled a small laugh. “On to more fun things, then. You up for a night out on the town tomorrow? Just the girls. Well, except for Robin, for obvious reasons—”

Lara cut me off mid-sentence. “Robin told me when it happened.”

I wasn’t really sure what Lara was talking about. Robin filled her in on all of the details—when it happened, how it happened, why it happened? What was Lara saying?

“She told me everything when she did it, Sophie.”

 
It clicked. Lara had been in on the whole thing.
 

“Wait a minute,” I shrieked. “You
knew
about this? You knew their affair and you didn’t
tell
me?”

“Sophie, listen.”
 

“Oh, I’m listening! I’m listening loud and clear, Lara. You’re telling me you knew about this the whole time and you kept it a secret from me?”
 

Did I really have
another
back-stabbing friend?

“Robin’s one of my best friends. She made me swear I wouldn’t tell you. And telling you wasn’t my place.” Lara’s voice was quaking. “It was up to Robin and Brandon. Not me. I’m sorry.”

This conversation was over. Having loved ones disappoint me and relationships crumble left and right was all too much for me to handle.

Lots of hateful, hurtful words came from my mouth then; things I’d later regret. I had already lost Brandon and Robin and I didn’t want to end another relationship. But what choice was I given? Was I supposed to act calm and understanding when everyone around me seemed to be keeping secrets? When everyone was out to hurt me?

“I’m sorry…. Robin really wants to talk to you, Sophie,” Lara said softly. “She’s torn up about this whole thing.”

“Oh, she’s torn up. Really? And I’m just the innocent bystander who feels
nothing
?”

“I’m really sorry. I’m really,
really
, so very sorry. If I had it my way this never would have happened and I would never have this secret to keep from you.”

“You didn’t have to keep it a secret, Lara. You could have told me.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. And I was backed into a corner. You would’ve done the same thing if Claire had come to you with that kind of news.”

She may have had a point, but I was so beyond rational thought that I didn’t give the idea the time of day.

“Whatever. Everyone around me is turning out to be a liar. A cheater. A whore. My whole life is falling apart. Lara, I’ve got to go.”

“Sophie, wait.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want to go.”

“Sophie—”

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto my bed.
 

Could things really get any worse? Were any more secrets going to creep up and wreak havoc on my life? How ridiculously complicated could a life get in such a short amount of time?