When Girlfriends Break Hearts (17 page)

“He’s letting me live at his place,” Jackie said during a recent phone call. “I can’t like
not
see the guy.”

Hank, like so many men before him, would eventually get the ax. Sooner or later Jackie would say “enough” to the free bottles of Dom Perignon and the seemingly endless gifts of Chanel handbags, diamond earrings, and Manolo Blahniks. There always came a time when the penthouse suite arrangements, the chauffeured town car rides to the swankiest night clubs, and the general “I grovel at your twenty-something-year-old feet” routine ran its course.
 

And during a fleeting period where Jackie would be single and back on the market, she’d be over visiting me and Claire and all the girls frequently. She would be giving my phone a ring at least once a day, and would encourage that all the girls get together a lot more often.

Of course, when things would change in the male-lover department, as they inevitably do, Jackie would no doubt rally the girls and either cry about how the asshole broke her heart, or rave about how she dumped him because that relationship needed to end. We’d console her and tell her she could do better than him or that she made the right choice and he was, most definitely, a jerk. We’d hang out more and find time to do excessively girly things together like chain back rubs, mani-pedi appointments, or, one of my favorites, take a pottery glazing class together or something artsy-fartsy and easygoing like that. Then some rich or attractive, or, if she really scored, rich
and
attractive, bachelor would catch Jackie’s eye and the whole cycle would once again ensue.
 

But we were best friends and it was what we did—we all stood by Jackie, thick or thin. And after nearly seven years, you grew rather accustomed to it. It was familiar and comforting. And in a world where so much of that was being taken away from me I wanted to hold on to every remaining thread possible.

I had gotten caught up in reflections and memories—these thoughts and images that had been circling through my mind for weeks now—and I set aside the Nicholas Sparks ebook. I brought my knees up to my chin, making myself more comfortable and warm on the living room sofa. The sun had not yet set, and it cast a golden glow through the large front room window—a small ray of cheerfulness that I was grateful for.
 

After work that Saturday afternoon I had headed straight home, greeted by an empty house and a note on the dining table from Claire, letting me know that she was out with Conner and Schnickerdoodle for a brisk couple of hours at the park. Normally, having gotten off work earlier than usual, I would have swung by
Studio Tulaa
for a quick Saturday session, but I couldn’t bring myself to drive by the studio. Despite Pamela’s insistency that I continue my yoga sessions, I couldn’t bring myself to do so.

So that afternoon I decided to forego yoga and delve into a light, romantic read at home. I actually challenged myself not to well up over the tearjerker that I had become engrossed in.

An hour in and I was actually one up on Mr. Sparks. But somehow my mind had drifted away from the woes of his female protagonist and towards the woes of this here female protagonist—towards my own plight yet again and, for once,
my
particular reactions to the chain of events and those involved in them. And I actually questioned if the way I had been handling things was really the right way. The better way. The
best
way.
 

Pamela’s cancer had incited this chain of thoughts and pattern of thinking and I started to see that maybe—just maybe—a little good did come with the bad. Claire had always sworn by it. As horrifying and as unwelcome as Pamela’s cancer was, perhaps it was the catalyst for my thinking that reconciliation with Lara, or even Robin, could be a card up for play. Maybe…just
maybe?
 

I had spent the past few days thinking about how short life really is, and how much shorter it can suddenly become. You always hear how life is short so “live it up” and “never hold back” and “don’t hold grudges.” But how often do you actually see that firsthand? Granted the development of cancer wasn’t something that I personally had to deal with, thank God, but it was close enough to hurt and make me open my eyes and realize that life
is
so very precious. Maybe I needed to start treating it that way.

Something inside me, however, resisted against this feeling that with bad came good. Something resisted against this feeling that casting aside grudges and living life with a happier and more accepting attitude was the better path. I think, perhaps, my reluctance was due to a combination of my incessant need for control and order, and my wanting to deal with problems through denial and shelving.
 

I didn’t want to take that awkward step and forgive Robin or Lara. I didn’t want to face either of them and go through another heart-wrenching scene where we would exchange hurtful words. I didn’t want to become enraged all over again. I guess I was being stubborn, but I could justify that behavior with insisting that
I
was the hurt one in all of this.
I
was the one who had been betrayed.
I
was lied to.
I
was cheated on.
I
was the victim. Why should
I
apologize or forgive? Right? Didn’t
I
have the right to be angry and hurt over what had happened? And hadn’t I been through enough? Did I deserve to suffer any more? If I had the control to do what I chose to do (one of the few things I actually felt like I still had some semblance of control over), then wasn’t it my right and in my best interest to choose
not
to speak with or see the two women who had hurt me?

No matter how many self-help books or how much reflection on Pamela’s and Claire’s advice, I couldn’t overcome my stubborn will to hide from the problems. I couldn’t pick myself up out of the darkness of denial. I just couldn’t. And I wouldn’t, either.

***

Later that afternoon, after Claire, Conner, and their hyper dog had come home from their eventful, although cold, walk through the park, Claire and I decided to try out one of my latest apple turnover cupcake recipes. Claire insisted and I didn’t want to let her down. Even though I spent hours in the kitchen baking and cooking as a job, I never minded doing it in my off time. It was a passion, after all, and with Claire by my side and some uplifting music sounding from the small portable player on the kitchen counter, I couldn’t deny Claire, or myself, the pleasure.
 

Unfortunately, somewhere in between transferring one twelve-cup batch to the cooling rack and icing the first batch, Claire and I started to quarrel. Naturally, as even the most glorified and endearing of newlywed couples do, Claire and I would have general disagreements or small tiffs, but never anything Earth-shattering. Never a full out blow up like I had had with Robin or Lara, or as we had all had at one point or another with Jackie.
 

But things were starting to grate, and Claire’s general evasive attitude began irritating me. Her responses to all of my questions were short, vague, and even a bit listless; she was acting like she didn’t want to be baking with me and hanging out (
her
idea, mind you), and certainly not answering any of my small-talk questions. When I finally pressed and got an answer, she reticently shrugged her shoulders and said, “Nothing’s wrong. Let’s just bake.”

The final straw, though, was Claire’s pushy conversation she turned with me.

Claire had started hinting, subtly yet intrusively, at how I should give Lara a call, just for “good measure.” After a few too many hints I angrily slammed down a freshly iced cupcake and shouted at her, telling her that I had had enough of hearing how
I
should be the “bigger person,” as she put it, and call up Lara.
 

Claire’s reaction surprised me. I figured she’d play the calm and collected card, as she usually did, and apologize for suggesting something that would make me react so angrily. But she didn’t. Instead we both started shouting at each other, neglecting the cupcakes entirely.
 

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that!” I shouted as I stormed toward my bedroom. “You
know
how I feel.”
 

“You need to hear it, Sophie!” Claire shouted back, her voice suddenly nearing. She was following, and we both stopped in the dimly lit hallway. “You need to hear it and you need to
do
it.”
 

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“You need to talk to them. If not for their sake then for yours.” Her voice was still raised, her face turning red. I hadn’t seen Claire this angry since Conner did whatever really pissed her off a few days ago.

“Claire, I don’t have to do
anything
. What they did is unforgivable and…and…we’ve been over this. I can’t believe we’re even
having
this discussion. I don’t have to do anything and I’m certainly not going to come crawling back to them and begging for them to have their stupid, naïve friend back. I’d be a total sucker for crawling back.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough time to be angry? Don’t you think it’s time to
fix
the problem? Hell, Sophie. Lara and Robin aren’t going to make a move. They’d be stupid for approaching you and trying to fix things.
Again.
They’ve tried and you’ve turned them away. It’s up to you now. They
want
to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah,” I interrupted. “They’ve had more than enough times to tell me their pathetic stories and sorry excuses, and I’m done hearing about it. I’m done with their lies. I’m over it. They have nothing to tell me that I don’t already know.”

“They’re both very sorry, Sophie. You have no idea how much this is hurting them.”
Here we go again, another sob story.
“They want to fix things. And before you say things
can’t
be fixed, I think you should think of something. I think you should think about it long and good.”
 

She inched closer and returned her voice to a more normal level. “You can only run and hide and ignore everything for so long before you find yourself in complete misery and
completely
alone. I know you’re hurting. So much. But you’re only hurting yourself at this point. You have two friends who want to talk to you, to fix things and make it better. They know things can’t change overnight, but they want to try.”

“Yeah,” I said, copping an attitude like I often did with my mother when I was pubescent. “They tell you this? They tell you how much they’re
so
sorry and how they
so
want to be friends again? Just kiss the boo-boo and make it all better?”

“Yes, actually.”
 

Huh? She had actually
spoken
with them?

“What?”

“Yes, actually. I talked to Lara
and
Robin. They’re still friends of mine, Sophie. Not that I condone what either of them have done, but they
are
my friends.”

“Yeah, well, Lara I sort of expected, but Robin? Are you serious, Claire?
Robin?
Of all people? That little hussy? If she did this with Conner do you think I’d call her up and be like, ‘Hey, girl, let’s talk. Let’s get together.’ Hell. No. I would
never
do that to you. Never!”

“Robin called me,” she cut in. “She called me up a few days ago begging me to talk to you. To reason with you. And I’ve talked to Lara a couple times, too. They both want to talk it out.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve talked it to
death.
” I rushed off toward my bedroom, only to be stopped in my tracks by Claire as she grabbed a hold of my shoulder.
 

“Listen,” she said. “You’re losing us all, Sophie. You’ve lost Robin. You’ve lost Lara. You’re losing Pamela.”
How dare she bring Pamela into this! That was
not
the same at all.
“And you’re going to lose me. Don’t all these years…what…eight…seven…a hell of a long time…don’t they mean something to you?

“Never in all that time has anything so huge and horrible like this happened. You’ve said that yourself. You’ve told me how you can’t believe that in all this time we’ve all been friends that this happened.

“Sure, it’d be a perfect world if it never happened, but it
did.
And think about it this way. All these years together.
All
of them. When have those girls ever not been there for you? I know this one really big thing is
really
big. And I can’t completely put myself in your position, but Sophie, are you really willing to just let it all fall away?”

I looked away from her, a surge of crying nearing.

“Walk away from everything?” she asked. “All these years? Just toss in the towel and leave all of your problems behind? Never be strong enough to stand up and deal with something? It’s a hard time for you, and yes, you’re going through a
ton
of shit right now. But you’re not the only one hurting, Sophie. And through your ‘dealing’ you’re hurting people around you. We
love
you.
I
love you.

“But I can’t just stand by watching you destroy every relationship you have. Watching you lose yourself in your work or your yoga or even your relationship with me. It’s not healthy. You have a lot of really great friends who care about you. We have a very special bond, but you have more than me. And you’re turning your back on all of it. You’re just…walking away. Leaving it all behind.”

For a long moment I didn’t say anything. And then: “Fuck you, Claire.”

I slammed my bedroom door, and I yelled those hurtful words once more to the person I could honestly say was the only true friend I felt I had. Or once had….

***

It hadn’t been thirty minutes after our fight when Claire and I were already hugging each other and crying into one another’s shoulder. We had never had an argument to that extent before and thirty minutes was long enough for us to realize that staying angry with each other and saying hurtful words that we both wished we could have taken back were not the answers to our problems. That and thirty minutes was enough time for our kitchen’s smoke alarm to sound. We both burst onto the smoke-filled scene filled with panic.