Back In the Game

by Holly Chamberlin

  I thought I saw an uneasy look in Nell’s eyes, but it passed. Maybe I imagined it.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “You know, Trina still swears she had no idea he was such a horror show.”

  “And you believe her?” I asked.

  “I do. Since I told her that Mr. Kennedy deserves to be behind bars, she’s made it her personal mission—well, aside from divorcing Miles, of course—to get his victims to go to the police.”

  Jess smiled. “Good for her. I bet she can be very convincing. But what about you, Nell? Are you going to help the cause?”

  Nell hesitated. “I’ll do what I can,” she said finally. “Even if all it means is that I help pay for a lawyer if something goes to court. I’m sorry if that sounds weak. Maybe I’ll find more courage in time.”

  Before either of us could answer—and honestly, I wasn’t sure what to say—Nell excused herself to go to the ladies’ room.

  I spotted Evan at the door, greeting a group of three quite elderly people, two men and a woman. His graciousness and social ease continued to impress me.

  “I think I can take back my jewelry now,” I said suddenly.

  Jess looked a bit surprised. “Are you sure? It’s no problem at all for me to hold on to it.”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “I’m really finally over Simon and our sick little dynamic. I’m working on a healthy relationship with Evan.” And then I laughed. “Besides, look at my ex-husband now.”

  Jess turned to where Simon was standing by the largest of his canvases. He was surrounded by fawning women, young and old, including the elderly woman who’d just arrived. Brittany and Brianna stood on the periphery of the group, pouting. Brittany’s face was an alarming shade of red. I suspected that before long, Brianna would be holding her friend’s hair while she vomited in the nearest alley.

  “I think,” I said, “that Simon will meet his next mommy tonight.”

  Jess turned back to me. “So, you’re never opening your door for him again.”

  “Nope.”

  “Good for you. I’ll bring the jewelry over tomorrow evening if that’s okay.”

  “It is. We’ll celebrate my liberation with a glass of champagne. Evan gave me a bottle for a special occasion with a friend. Isn’t that a thoughtful gift?”

  “He’s a keeper; there’s no doubt.”

  I looked closely at my friend. During her messy divorce and for a long time after, she’d looked a bit worn out, as if she’d hardly been eating or sleeping. Now, I thought I saw more animation in her features. There was something brighter about her all around.

  “And you, Jess?” I asked. “Anyone on the horizon aside from Mr. Real Estate?”

  “No,” she said, “no one else on the horizon. Nick would like to get serious, but I’m just not ready to commit myself again. In fact, I’m really not sure how long he’ll stay with a woman who’s not interested in getting married any time soon. So, the future stretches out before me like an open road. It lies before me like an empty book or a—well, you get my meaning.”

  “I do. Sometimes it’s nice not to have a plan or a goal. It’s nice just to live each day and see what happens. Of course, I don’t really know what I’m talking about because all my life I’ve been busy as a beaver, plotting and planning for myself and for Simon.”

  Jess gave me a considering look. “Evan’s not entirely Simon’s opposite, is he? I mean, he’s not a control freak, I hope.”

  I looked around the crowded room for Evan. I spotted him listening to the animated chatting of a tiny man everyone knew as “that tiny man who shows up at every art-related event and never buys a thing!”

  I looked back to Jess. “I don’t know for sure,” I admitted. “I don’t think he’s a control freak, but I suppose I’ll learn in time. Like you, I’m in no mad rush to make a commitment I’m not ready to make.”

  Jess raised her almost-empty champagne glass. “Here’s to enjoying the moment.”

  I raised mine to hers. “Here’s to independence, in all its many forms.”

  Our toast was cut short by a loud thud and the shattering of glass.

  I laughed. Simon had finally crashed his way up onto the drinks table.

  “For the first time in my life,” I said to Jess, “I’m going to enjoy the show. Because this time, I don’t have to clean up after it.”

  Chapter 65

  Jess

  Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

  —First Letter of Paul to the Corinthians, verses 4-7, the Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version

  O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth!

  —Song of Solomon verse 2, the Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version

  “By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss each other.”

  And they did, Richard Keith Allard and Robert Thomas Landry. When they parted and turned to face those of us gathered in the church, a wild applause broke out.

  I so hate crying, but I couldn’t stop the tears from flooding my cheeks.

  “I brought makeup,” Nell said into my ear.

  I nodded and continued to dab at my face with a wad of tissues. Nell was crying, too, but not nearly as much as I was. Trina, to Nell’s other side, was dry-eyed. Grace, to my left, quietly sobbed into a handkerchief Evan had given her midway through the service. Behind us, Laura sat with Matt. I don’t know how either of them reacted to the ceremony. I couldn’t even guess.

  Slowly, the guests filed out of the church.

  “It was a lovely service, wasn’t it?” Nell said as we walked down the aisle.

  I nodded again, still not sure I could speak without inducing another torrent of tears.

  It really had been a lovely service. Clara read a poem special to her father and Bob. One of Bob’s nephews read from both the Old and the New Testament. The minister, a middle-aged woman, made mention of Richard’s deceased parents being with him in spirit. (Nell harrumphed quietly at that.) Bob’s parents beamed through it all. But what touched me most, I suppose, was the surprise fact of Colin being his father’s best man.

  Nell, Grace, and I made a beeline to the ladies’ room before joining the receiving line out in front of the church. Trina stayed with Evan, hanging on to his arm and chattering about some woman’s awful taste in wedding attire.

  “Here,” Nell said, unloading her purse. “I’ve got everything we need for repairs.”

  Grace sniffed. “Good, because for some stupid reason I forgot to wear waterproof mascara. I know how I get at weddings; I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  I looked in the tiny mirror over the tiny sink and burst out laughing. My face looked like a clown’s after being sprayed by the business end of a high-powered hose.

  “It’s pretty bad,” Nell agreed. “Weddings are murder on the appearance. It’s a good thing people look only at the bride.”

  It took a moment for the absurdity of that observation to hit the three of us, and then we were all laughing.

  “They make an attractive couple,” I said.

  It was the cocktail hour, and Richard and Bob were circulating among their guests. A classical guitarist played softly while waiters carried trays of delicious hors d’oeuvres.

  “They do,” Nell agreed, “don’t they?”

  Trina joined us with a fresh glass of champagne. “Darling Nell. This is a wonderful affair. The champagne is marvelous.”

  “Richard has good taste in wines.”

  “And good taste in women.” Trina raised her glass.

  “Thanks,” Nell said. “I won’t deny it.”

  Trina let out a little squeal. “Oh, darlings, they’re passing around more of those wee nibbles I adore!” And off she tripped.

  “How ar
e you holding up?” I asked Nell when Trina was gone.

  “Not bad,” she said. “I’m okay. I’m glad the ceremony is over, though. I was dreading it. Now I feel mostly—spacey. As if this isn’t quite real. I suppose it’s some sort of self-preservation instinct. I suspect the reality of it all will hit me again late tonight. I’ll be all alone in my cozy bathrobe, sipping a cup of herbal tea, and it will hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks that my former husband is now legally married to a man.”

  “I think you’ll be fine,” I said hopefully. “I think you really are past the shock element.”

  “Maybe. Let’s hope so. Now that I’ve cleared this hurdle, I’d really like to concentrate on my own future. Speaking of future, will you look at my daughter!”

  I followed Nell’s eyes to find Clara obviously flirting with one of Bob’s nephews.

  “Oh, Lord,” Nell said. “She had better not get involved with another Landry, or I’m afraid I will have to kill her.”

  Life, it’s been noted, is strange.

  “At least Colin is behaving,” I noted. In typical Colin fashion, he was off by himself in a corner, staring into the middle distance meditatively.

  Nell smiled. “He’s probably mentally designing a new computer program or something else incomprehensible to his dear old mother.”

  Just then we were joined by Grace.

  “Where’s your better half?” Nell asked.

  Grace pretended to shudder. “Isn’t that a horrible phrase? In the men’s room, if you must know. And what about you, Jess?” she asked. “I thought you might bring Seth or Nick as your date.”

  “I considered it. Either would have come if I’d asked. Nick would have loved being at a wedding with me. He’d hope it gave me ideas. But, I don’t know, it just felt right to be here on my own.”

  “I think I understand,” Grace said.

  A waiter offered us another glass of champagne. It would have been rude to refuse. When he’d gone off, Nell turned to me.

  “And how are you doing seeing my dear sister with your ex-husband?” she asked.

  “It’s strange,” I admitted. “It’s strange seeing her take his arm, but it’s something I’ll just have to get used to.”

  “Oh, look, there’s Evan. Excuse me.”

  Grace hurried off to reattach herself to her new love. Nell left to say hello to one of Richard’s colleagues. And I took the opportunity to observe the engaged couple from afar. Laura and Matt stood off to themselves. They weren’t talking. Laura was working her way through a plate piled high with food. Matt was nursing a bottle of beer, likely the only one he’d had in months. An attractive woman in her twenties crossed the room and Matt followed her with his eyes. Laura didn’t notice.

  I turned and walked out to the enclosed balcony overlooking downtown Boston. I like cityscapes, night or day. And I thought about change.

  My friendship with Laura had never been terribly deep; I thought of her mostly as Nell’s sister. And once Laura and Matt were married, I knew that what friendship we’d had would wane. It was okay. It was more important for Laura to build her new life than it was for us to spend time together over dinner once every few weeks.

  As if summoned by my thoughts, there was Matt, suddenly on the balcony with me.

  “Oh,” I said. “Hi.”

  Matt nodded. He looked not at me but at the city spread before us. I waited but it seemed nothing more of a response was coming.

  “Nice wedding,” I said finally.

  “I got your e-mail.” Matt blurted the words, as if they’d been crowding against his front teeth, fighting to get out.

  I swear, for a second I didn’t know what he was talking about. And then I remembered.

  “Oh,” I said.

  And I waited. But Matt said nothing more. He took a sip of his beer and kept his eyes straight ahead.

  “Okay, then,” I said after a while. “I’m going to go talk to—someone I know.”

  Matt nodded and I bolted back into the room, just in time to greet the happy couple. We all kissed. They looked so relaxed.

  “Congratulations, you two,” I said. “It was a lovely ceremony.”

  Bob nodded. “I thought so, too. The part I was conscious of. I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life.”

  “Really? I couldn’t tell.” I laughed. “Then, again, it’s amazing I saw anything through the flood of tears streaming from my eyes.”

  Richard reached for my hand. “Thank you, Jess,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For being here, but mostly for being Nell’s friend.”

  I squeezed Richard’s hand. “You’re welcome, Richard. It’s been my pleasure.”

  The newlyweds continued their rounds and then dinner was served.

  Celebrating hope.

  What a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.

  EPILOGUE

  Chapter 66

  Jess

  To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

  —Ecclesiastes 3:1

  “Last one in the water’s a rotten egg!”

  I laughed and darted past Bob into the waves. “Ha, ha, you lose!”

  Bob splashed in after me. The midafternoon sun was warm but the Maine coastal water was not.

  “Brrr! Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

  Bob grimaced. “Because we’re idiots? Because we’re thirty-and fortysomethings desperately trying to hold on to what’s left of our youthful exuberance?”

  “Ah, right. Idiots. Let’s get out, now.”

  Bob and I sloshed our way back to shore and our beach towels. A half hour later we were back at the Ogunquit house Richard and Bob had bought just that spring, warm, dry, and enjoying crab rolls, fruit salad, and cold beer for lunch.

  Across from me sat Nell and Oscar, recently engaged. Bob sat to my right and Richard to my left. There was much laughter and good feeling. And if anyone had told me only three short years ago that I’d be sharing a pleasant meal with Nell, her fiancé, her ex-husband and his partner, I would have dismissed the idea as ridiculous.

  But life is all about surprise, isn’t it, both good and bad. She who bends, survives and all that.

  Here’s another tidbit I like, it’s printed on T-shirts all around town: “Women who behave rarely make history.” I don’t know who said that, a feminist leader or some savvy marketing guy, but I’m trying to adopt that as my motto and stop worrying about fitting into a created notion of who and what I should be.

  Like, a respectable married woman.

  Anyway, now that I’m over forty and still single, I’m considered a lost cause, aren’t I? My chances of finding a man to marry are abysmally low; I’m more likely to be hit by a train or struck on the head by a passing Frisbee or something.

  Oh, well.

  Nick and I didn’t stay together for long. He was serious about settling down and I began to wonder if it really mattered to him who he married. I wondered if he was in love with me or with the idea of me, a single, available woman.

  So, we split, amicably, soon after Richard and Bob got married, and I haven’t heard from him since. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that he’s married, maybe even on his way to becoming a father. I wish him well.

  Seth and I are still friendly, but since he started living with his age-appropriate girlfriend, I see him only occasionally. Our worlds are so different in some ways. He’s really just starting out, and me? I’m entrenched. Plus, he’s young and in love, and when you’re young and in love, you don’t need friends, or you think you don’t.

  And then the road gets bumpy and the first thing you do is look for those friends you misplaced and wonder why you misplaced them at all.

  Lost friends.

  I haven’t seen Laura since Alex was born, but I hear about her from Nell. It’s not my place to judge or even to comment on someone else’s life. I’ll let Nell do that. Suffice it to say, I feel sorry for them both, Laura
and Matt, and though I’m the last person to suggest a divorce, in this case I can’t help wondering if it isn’t the right thing to do.

  Divorce. You think you’re not going to survive it and then, you do. And you survive largely thanks to the support of your friends. Really, without Nell and Grace—and even, on occasion, Laura—I don’t know how I’d have come to this point of contentment.

  Friends and my career. A research project I’d worked on for some time has become a book. It will be published by a small university press, which means the distribution will be low and the sales even lower. But you don’t write this kind of book for the money; you write it for the professional recognition as well as—hopefully—for your own fulfillment.

  I sent an advance copy to my parents, on some level always the dutiful daughter. I wasn’t expecting either of them to be impressed, so I was pleasantly surprised when my father called me one evening to congratulate me warmly. My mother then got on the phone, reluctantly—I could hear her protests in the background—and after a mumbled acknowledgment of having received the book, she said, “You don’t expect me to read it, do you?” I told her that no, of course I didn’t expect her to read it. She replied, “Good. Do you want it back, then?”

  I took a deep, steadying breath. It helped a little. And I said, “No, Mom, keep it. Use it as a coaster or something.” And I got off the phone as quickly as I could.

  Some things never change.

  Some things do, like the turning of the year and with it, the arrival of a new birthday.

  When I turned forty, Nell wanted to give me a party but, not being much of a party person, I said no, thanks. Instead, I suggested Nell, Grace, and I spend a weekend in Paris. We did and it was a seminal time for us, not one fight over who paid for what or what museum to go to before lunch, just three good friends enjoying each other’s company in the City of Lights.

  Of course, I thought once or twice of my honeymoon with Matt, but the memories were no longer painful or poignant. Some were downright amusing, like the look on Matt’s face when I ordered escargot one night at dinner. He didn’t know that escargot meant snails; I don’t know what he thought they were, but when I told him, his face turned green, absolutely green.