Between Friends

by Amanda Cowen

Emily moved from England to follow her high-school sweetheart, when he landed some high-paying marketing job in Chicago. But last year, he left her for another woman and she was devastated. She even contemplated heading back to England to be with her family, but ultimately decided to stay here while the real estate market was booming.

  “It was great.” I lie through my teeth and take a sip of my coffee.

  “I bet.” she squeals, then continues with a chuckle, “I’m glad you’re back. But even more so relieved to have Ben and his sexy self floating around the office again.”

  “Oh yeah…” I mutter hoping Emily will catch on to my disinterest in her Ben obsession.

  She continues to ramble, “When he strolled in this morning, he lit up the room looking so ravishing with his tan. Thank God I had to meet a client though. I was hardly able to stay focused with him prancing all around my desk.”

  Ugggghhhh! I just want to hang up right now. Emily has always been drawn to Ben, but it became progressively worse once she became single. She always makes ridiculous comments to me, like how hot Ben looks in blue or how tight his butt looks in a pair of slacks. She inappropriately flirts with him at work, making it border line sexual harassment. I would normally laugh at her and act disgusted when she decided to share her Ben fantasies with me, but now it just makes me want to scream.

  “Did you happen to get any sun on that pasty skin of yours?” she asks filling our silence.

  “Yeah, I guess. I think I’m what they call sun-kissed.” I say and snuggle deep into my pillows. The thought of Ben cruising into the office looking as sexy as ever is making me nauseated.

  “Well I would gladly sun-kiss all over that tanned body of Ben’s if he’d let me.” Emily chuckles, waiting for my usual reaction of laughter, but the line falls silent. She clears her throat and asks, “Did you meet Jessica’s cousin? What was his name? Stanley or something?”

  “Steven.” I mumble, “But it didn’t work out.”

  I scratch my head and contemplate disclosing everything to Emily. Who better than a swanky open-minded Brit to confide in? Besides, she is what I would consider neutral. She is friends with both Ben and I, and knows us outside of our tight-knit group of friends. She shares all her relationship problems with me (whether I want to hear about them or not), plus she is a good listener. But even though we are good friends, I don’t know if I can trust her not to say something to the other people we work with. She is known to have quite the yap on her. I hardly want intimate details of my personal life spreading like wildfire amongst my colleagues. Therefore, I’ll keep my mouth shut.

  “That’s too bad. Was Jessica upset it didn’t work out? How was she anyway? Was she still a complete bridezilla once she got to Costa Rica?” Emily asks with a slight humour to her voice.

  “I guess she was a little better once we got there.” I say.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Emily asks, clearly detecting something is up, “You just landed the listing of a lifetime and spent a whole week basking in the sun. Did something happen you’re not telling me about?”

  “No, I’m just jet-legged.” I lie.

  “Alright” Emily says letting her voice trail off.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I guess so. I’ll be in the office around nine. I left your new client files on your desk. See you then.”

  “Thanks Emily – “And she has already disconnected from our conversation.

  I toss my phone to the floor and pull my comforters up to my neck. I roll over to hear the empty box of cookies I ate last night crinkle beneath me. I yank it out from behind my back, whip it to the floor and hear it crash into my nightstand. I push my head firmly into my pillow, and get a faint scent of Ben’s cologne still lingering on my unchanged sheets. I moan and flip onto my back and stare blankly at the ceiling. Ugh. I cannot face the thought of going to work. The only thing that makes it tolerable right now is knowing I got that big Gold Coast listing, but even that is hardly enough to excite me knowing I will see Ben every which way I turn. Not only are things all buggered up with Jessica but how am I am ever going to be able to face him again?

  When my cell begins to ring, I choose to ignore it. I let it go to voicemail, but hear it immediately start ringing again. I roll my eyes, lean over my bed and press it up to my ear, “Megan Daniels speaking.”

  “You don’t even call your own mother to tell her you are safe and sound?” My mother shouts into the phone, “If it weren’t for Stephanie updating her Facebook status every fifteen minutes, I would have never even known if you were dead or alive. And what is this recent status about? ‘Dream Wedding Ruined’?”

  Oh God. My mother and her Facebook.I honestly wish I never set up an account for her. She is obsessed. She posts things on my wall all the time that she should really just call me about. For example, the last thing she posted on my wall was:

  Just finished the laundry and found a pair of your socks you left here in the load. Pick them up when you have time. xoxo Mom

  Yes, she even signs her name at the end of all her posts, like a formal letter.

  “I was going to call you.” I sigh, but quickly ask, “Did Stephanie really post something about the wedding being ruined on Facebook?”

  “What is going on? Did something happen?” my mother asks, “Oh, and I saw that nice picture Ben posted of you two at a beach. That is a really cute picture. It looked like you two had a great time together.”

  “Ohmigod.” I say feeling the tears begin to well up in my eyes. If I am going to tell anyone anything, it is going to be my mother.

  “Are you at work?” she asks with panic in her voice, clearly detecting I am on the verge of tears.

  “No” I sob, bringing on the waterworks.

  “Are you at home?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am coming over right now.”

  “No mom, I’m fine – “

  “This isn’t debatable. I will be there in an hour.”

  Exactly an hour and five minutes later, my mom is in my condo making us a fresh pot of coffee. I sit on the stool surrounding the island in the kitchen, when I start to spill the beans to my mother. I start off by telling her how I met Ben for dinner the night before we left for the wedding. I even confess I had too much to drink and that we came back to my condo afterwards. My mother’s eyes widen and she clenches the countertop. I watch her knuckles turn white in anticipation of what I am about to tell her. I think she might pass out, so I ask her if she is okay. She nods and a smile forms on her lips, “You know how much I love Ben.”

  I roll my eyes and almost decide to stop my story. My mother loves Ben like her own son, so hearing how this ends is surely going to devastate her.

  Last year, at the last minute, when Marco told me he couldn’t come to my cousin Tiffany’s wedding; my mother suggested I bring Ben as my date. So when he showed up on my arm, she was overjoyed and squeezed his cheeks like she always did whenever she saw him. All through dinner, she constantly told him how handsome he looked and of course he basked in the attention. Then while Ben fetched the ladies at our table another round of drinks, I scolded my mother and told her to stop enhancing his already oversized ego. My mother became angry with me and insisted he was a catch. She said she couldn’t understand why we weren’t already together. I told her to drop it and made it perfectly clear that it would never happen. She rolled her eyes and said I was missing out on something that could be great. I told her I wasn’t interested in him like that, and that was the last we ever spoke of Ben and I as more than friends.

  “I know you love Ben. That is why this is hard for me to tell you.” I confess.

  “Did something happen to him? Is he okay?” My mother shouts.

  “No mom, he’s fine. Just let me finish alright?” I say and shift on the stool “This isn’t easy for me to talk to you about this.”

  “Okay Megan, I’m sorry.” She says and pours us each a cup of coffee. She slides my mug across the gleaming granite and props u
p her elbows.

  “Okay” I say and clear my throat, realizing maybe talking to my mother about my sex life really isn’t a good idea, but I continue, “Ben and I were secretly seeing each other.”

  My mother gasps and squeals all at the same time. Her eyes light up and she clamps her hand over her mouth.

  “Mom, we were seeing each other. It doesn’t end well.” I confess, only to see her smile fade.

  “Well what happened?” she shouts, “How could you ruin such a thing?”

  I roll my eyes at her blatant accusation that I was the one to screw everything up, “It’s a long story.”

  “Well I suggest you start telling it.” My mother scolds placing her hands on her hips.

  “After that first night in my condo, the next morning I woke up and told him it was a mistake, because I was worried about ruining our friendship.”

  My mother pulls up a stool and sits down, which I am guessing is to keep from fainting.

  “So when we finally got to Costa Rica, Jessica was all gung-ho to set me up with her cousin Steven, which she did, and he was so nice mom, you would have loved him.”

  “I’m sure.” She unconvincingly says.

  “Then things started happening between me and Ben again.”

  “Oh God Megan-“ She groans.

  “No mom!” I shout crossing my hands in front of my chest, “It’s not my fault everything was ruined. I found out he had been with Stephanie too.”

  “He what? Not Ben.” My mother says waving her arms in the air in utter disbelief.

  “It wasn’t while we were together, but you could see why that would upset me.” I say looking at my mother for back up.

  “Well when did that happen?” She says taking a sip of her coffee.

  “Like a month ago.”

  I watch my mother absorb this information and scratch her head, “But you weren’t with him. So why is that an issue?”

  “Because he never told me about it!” I shout, feeling myself turn red, “It was all a big secret. If he respected our friendship and what we had then he would have told me. I absolutely refuse to be treated like one of his fuck buddies.”

  My mother gasps completely appalled. I have never ever in all my life sworn in front of her. I say I’m sorry, and tell her I was absolutely out of line. She relaxes a bit and tells me it’s okay, and she understands that I am upset. I finally tell her how I ended things with him and how he begged me not to. I tell her how I used Steven to make Ben jealous on the dance floor, and it worked, because he sucker punched Steven in front of everyone and ruined the whole wedding (hence Stephanie’s Facebook status). I rehash Jessica’s outburst and how she told us to get out, and how she refuses to talk to me and hates that I lied to her and led on her cousin. Not to mention how we embarrassed both of them in front of all their closet family and friends. Then I tell her how I ran back to his room to talk to him the next morning, but it was too late, he had taken off on an early flight without even saying good-bye.

  My mother is silent and I chew vigorously on my fingernails as I wait for the moment of truth.

  “What makes you think Ben was just using you?” she quietly asks.

  “Oh I don’t know, let me see, he can never take anything seriously, he sleeps with loads of women, he didn’t want anyone knowing about us. The list goes on mother.” I say letting out a huge sigh.

  “I don’t think Ben would do that to you.” She says taking another sip of her coffee.

  “Well it doesn’t matter now. It’s over, our friendship, everything.”

  There is a long silence between us. I can even hear the theme song from another episode of the “Big Bang Theory” playing faintly from the flat screen in my bedroom.

  “I really screwed up as a mother haven’t I?” she nervously chuckles looking down at her hands.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

  “What are you scared of Megan?” my mother persists tapping her fingers on the countertop.

  “I’m not scared of anything, that’s ridiculous.” I say keeping my eyes down.

  “I think you’re scared of your feelings for Ben.”

  “I don’t think so.” I laugh, knowing full well my mother is a hundred percent correct. I am so scared that it is crippling my ability to face him.

  She gets up from her stool and walks over to and gives me a hug. I hug her back and confess that I really screwed up. She doesn’t say anything back. Instead she strokes my mangled hair, as the thought of losing Ben and his friendship forever once again hits me like a ton of bricks.

  Chapter 22

  When I wake up the next morning, I feel like a new and rejuvenated version of myself. I spring out of bed as soon as my alarm goes off, not once hitting the snooze button to indulge in an few extra minutes of shut eye. I hop in the shower, wash my greasy hair and sing, “I Will Survive” at the top of my lungs. I try to perform some sweet dance moves as I lather up my scalp, but I slip a bit and have to steady myself on the shower curtain. When I am all done, I put on my sexiest and most recent Nordstrom purchase; a tight fitting navy blue blazer, with a matching A-line skirt and a killer pair of nude pumps. I loosely curl my hair and generously apply a glowing layer of makeup to highlight my already sun-kissed skin. I am unstoppable, and my plan to avoid Ben will work. I hope.

  I know if my timing is right, my plan is fool proof. Ben and I grab a coffee every morning at the Overflow Coffee Bar around 8:30a.m. before we show up at the office together. So, if I make my own coffee and head into work around 8:00a.m. Ben won’t be there. If he follows our routine (which I’m sure he will), he will arrive shortly after nine. This will give me about an hour or so to quickly review my files then flee from the office to start my client follow up for the day before he gets there. But, if he does happen to show up before nine, I still look fabulous enough to storm out with some sass.

  ****

  I arrive at work five minutes before eight, and am greeted by Millie, the receptionist, a plump redhead with a bad case of freckles. As I approach her desk, she slides off her jacket and powers on her computer.

  “Hey Megan! Congratulations on the Gold Coast listing! Jake told me Oprah is the client selling the property. How cool is that going to be to meet Oprah?” Millie says all smiles.

  I nod and try to hide my laughter, because Mille is subject to a lot of office pranks by Jake (another realtor in our office) due to her gullible persona.

  “What are you doing here so early?” Millie asks as she tosses a piece of gum in her mouth.

  “I have lots of work to catch up on.” I say with a smile.

  “Welcome back!” Millie shouts as I make my way through the double doors, leading into the rows and rows of cubicles.

  The office is quiet and empty, except for a few people scattered here and there. It is crazy how in less than an hour from now, this place will be packed with phones ringing and paper flying all over the place. I have to say, I really missed work. Like a lot. Even with Ben only a few cubicles away, this place is like home to me.

  I flop down into my chair and toss my cell on my desk. Like Emily promised, there is a whack load of files piled high beside the computer with a yellow sticky note on top. I glance down at it, and notice right away it isn’t Emily’s handwriting, its Ben’s.

  WE NEED TO TALK. PLEASE CALL ME.

  I rip the note off of the files, crumple it up and toss it into the garbage. I can’t believe he expects me to call him! No way. He’s crazy. I am not chasing after him like all the Mindy’s, Stephanie’s and Jezebel’s he’s used too. If he even thinks for a second that I would do such a thing, then he obviously doesn’t know me at all. Besides, I am not the one who took off on an early flight to leave him alone, humiliated and castrated by the whole entire wedding.

  “Well look who’s here!” Clint Reitman, the owner of Reitman Realty LLC the company I work for and my boss says as he strolls up to my desk.

  “Good morning Clint” I mumble, noticing he actually has a cle
an-shaven face today. He usually sports quite the beard.

  “Well how’s my favorite realtor feeling today? Did you already contact Mrs. Dorothy van den Berg?” He says looking over his glasses and leans on my desk.

  “I’m better thank you. Who is Mrs. Dorothy van den Berg?”

  “The owner of 1502 North Dearborn Parkway” Clint sternly says and crosses his arms over his potbelly.

  Oh crap! The Gold Coast listing! Surely Clint is expecting I am on my A game after abandoning my career for a week and taking a sick day. The fact that I don’t even know the address or name of my client will be enough to send him into a fury.

  “Oh right, sorry. I am about to call her right now.” I smile and pick up my cell, waving it in his face.

  “Well you better. Mrs. Van den Berg is a very important client. She buys and sells properties all over Chicago, and for some reason she wants you, so do not disappoint.” Clint says as he slams his fist down on my desk and storms off to his office.

  I scan through my files, searching desperately for Mrs. van den Berg’s phone number until I find it. Bingo! I punch in her number on my cell and wait for her to pick up. When Mrs. van den Berg’s raspy voice answers the other end of the line, I am relieved.

  She tells me she is delighted to hear from me, and compliments me by saying she has heard great things about both my work and me. She also adds that she knows I will be able sell her property in no time. I thank her for accepting me as her realtor, and ask if I could stop by sometime today to sign the contract and take a look at her property. She tells me anytime this morning will do, and says she looks forward to meeting with me. I smile hang up the phone and wonder if this property could possibly up the ante in defining my career. Maybe I will even be featured on HGTV’s Million Dollar Listing, who knows what could happen from here.

  My smile quickly fades when I see Ben saunter in the office. He is wearing a perfectly pressed dark grey suit with a crisp white shirt and a Burberry tie. He looks good, too good, and I feel my heart sink. What is he doing here so early? I slouch down in my chair hoping he won’t be able to see me behind the walls of the cubicle. He scans his eyes around the office before they land right on my desk. My heart stops. He doesn’t see me at first, but when his eyes change from worry to relief, I know I am spotted.