How to Change a Life

by Stacey Ballis

  “Yes, well. And I’m sorry, so rude of me, who is your lady friend . . .” She turns to introduce herself to me and I look up at her. “Eloise?”

  “Hi. Small world.”

  “How do you two know each other?” Shawn looks very confused.

  “This is my friend Lynne. That I told you about,” I say.

  “More importantly, how do you two know each other?” Lynne asks.

  “Eloise is my girlfriend. My interior designer fixed us up a few months ago. ‘Lynne’? Back to your roots, are you?” There is venom in Shawn’s voice.

  “Figured if I was going to lose the last name, might as well lose the first as well.” Never would have pegged Lynne for taking her husband’s name. Maybe she’s a little more traditional than I thought. Crap. Her husband. Shawn, my Shawn, was her Mr. So-Very-Wrong. “Eloise, this can’t be the guy you were describing to me,” Lynne says, narrowing her eyes at me. I think back to all my effusive praise of Shawn, especially his prowess in the bedroom, and I blush deeply. “Not the man I know so well—he isn’t capable of it. At least it’s early enough to save yourself. I’m certainly glad we ran into each other.”

  Save myself from the best relationship I’ve ever had? “I don’t know what you mean, but I think we all need some air and some space.” All I want is to get out of here.

  “I mean that of course you aren’t going to still date him, now that you know who and what he really is.” Lynne says this as a statement of fact, and it burns into my chest like a laser.

  “Linda, please do not make me forget my mama’s careful upbringing,” Shawn says with a low growl.

  “For all her efforts, you’d think you’d have turned out better.”

  “Wow. I’d have thought after all this time, all this space, that I wouldn’t be so much as a blip on your radar.”

  “And you’re not. But if you think I’m going to just sit here and let you hoodwink my poor dear friend here, you have another think coming.”

  I can feel my face burning. “Lynne, can we all take a breath and talk about this?” This is the worst possible thing. I care about Lynne and her feelings, but I’m in love with Shawn, and while I’m a big believer in girl code, and never would have started dating him if I had known who he was, I don’t think I can stop now.

  “What on earth is there to discuss?”

  “Lynne, I’m sure that this is shocking to all of us, but I’m not prepared to stop dating Shawn just because you used to be married.”

  “Well, that tells me where your loyalties are. For someone who hasn’t had so much as a date for years, I find it fascinating that you will choose some new piece of boy over your oldest, dearest friend.”

  “That’s unfair . . .” I hate how quiet and defeated my voice sounds. I was never able to stand up to Lynne, not when we were kids; she was always so sure of her rightness. The tone in her voice sends me right back to that place.

  “Linda, so help me . . .” Shawn is livid. “That is enough.”

  Her whole face goes stony. “Fine. Enjoy each other. Eloise, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Really, good luck, both of you.” She turns on a heel, heads back to her table, and whispers something to Angelique, and the two of them look over at our table and head for the door.

  “I’m so sorry,” Shawn says. “She’s a nightmare.”

  “And one of my oldest friends,” I say.

  “Yeah. That too. Talk about your shit sandwich. I hope I haven’t ruined your friendship.”

  I look up at him. “I frankly don’t care a flying fig about my friendship, not when she was just so awful.”

  “She and I always did push each other’s buttons, bring out the worst in each other. But that doesn’t mean you throw away twenty-five years of friendship. Not over me.”

  I think about this. “Four years. Four years of friendship, twenty years ago. And a few months of reconnection. If you take high school out of the equation, I’ve only known her two months longer than I’ve known you, and you are a much better addition to my life.” I’ve never been so angry, so hurt. That she would immediately go for the jugular with me, knowing my past, knowing how hard it was for me to open up to a relationship; I don’t care that they had a bad marriage, that doesn’t excuse her behavior.

  “Thank you for that. I love you, El, I really do. I don’t want anything to mess that up, especially not my ex.”

  “I love you too. I’m going to pretend for her sake that she was having an out-of-body experience, and give her some time to cool off and get her head right. But know this: If she can’t get past it? I choose you.” The words are stronger in my mouth than they are in my heart. I feel awful at this turn of events, and, what is worse, I feel awful that I am feeling so certain in choosing Shawn over Lynne. I should need some time, I should need to talk to Lynne alone when heads are cooler. But deep down, I know my heart won’t change. And the idea that I don’t feel worse about it makes me feel terrible. Like the worst friend on the planet. Teresa is going to freak out. I hope she will back me up, and if I lose Lynne, I hope I don’t lose her too.

  Shawn reaches across the table to take my hand just as a wave of five different desserts arrives at the table, courtesy of Lisa the pastry chef. “We’re going to need a couple of bourbons, one cube each,” he says to the waiter, reading my mind.

  Armed with the strength of renewed commitment to each other, and a pair of forks, we reach out and choose the abundant sweetness that lies before us to erase the bitterness in the past. Whatever that choice may bring.

  Seventeen

  I waited two days to reach out to Lynne to see if we could have a rational conversation. We decide to meet on neutral territory, taking the dogs to Bark Park for a romp while we clear the air.

  “You just have to know that I had no idea at all that the two of you were the two of you,” I say as calmly as I can. “How could I? All I knew of him from you were his faults, and that he moved away from L.A. to somewhere else in California, and a snarky nickname. You never mentioned his career or background or anything—you never even said he was originally from Chicago. And all I knew of you from him was that your name was Linda, and that you guys had a really bad breakup.”

  “I know,” Lynne admits. “I realized that it wasn’t that you were keeping it secret because you knew who he was to me, but not till after I had already gone all Jerry Springer on you. I’m sorry for that part. It wasn’t a good look on me, and wasn’t fair to you.”

  “Thank you for that. I think we can chalk the whole thing up to some brain spasm and let it go. Water under the bridge.” I don’t really mean this, to be honest; her words were deeply hurtful and it will take some time to forget the vicious way she went for our softest, tenderest parts. I also happen to believe that sometimes things said in spontaneous anger have a lot more truth in them than not, so the fact that she thinks I’m some sad sack who doesn’t know how to handle herself in a relationship makes me feel awful. In no small part because I’m afraid she’s right. But she does seem sincere, so I press on, desperate to have the whole thing on firmer ground. “Look, we just have to figure this out. You have to know that of course if I had been aware of the context when I met him, if I had known he was your ex, I would never have begun dating him, not without asking you how you felt about it before accepting. But I didn’t know, and the fact is that now he and I have been together since Halloween and have developed very strong feelings for each other. I don’t want to hurt you, it’s the last thing I want, but I also don’t feel like he and I should have to give up our relationship because of your history together. This is not a betrayal of you; I didn’t steal him from you or sneak around. I just coincidentally met someone I really like who turned out to be your ex.”

  Lynne presses her lips together tightly. “I just don’t know that I will ever be completely good with the two of you together, I have to be honest about that. I can try, but I can’t
promise.”

  “Okay, I get that, truly I do, trust me. So how do we move forward? Because the one thing that you know about me is that I don’t take any of this lightly. When I tell you that I really have deep feelings for him, you know what that means. And I hope that, deep down, you want that happiness for me. If I’m not going to stop seeing him, and I’m not going to stop being friends with you, how do we handle this? What do you need from me to at least be somewhat comfortable with the situation?”

  “I think, for now, the less I know the better. You and I can just hang out with Teresa the way we do, and if you can keep happy, gushy boyfriend talk to a minimum when I’m around, that will help. I still think you should be careful, I still think that he is not a good person, so I can’t really be a supportive girlfriend on this. But I can try to not say nasty things about him. I have to believe in my heart that you will see his true colors, and that the relationship won’t last because you will discover that you deserve better, and then all will be fine. Please understand that I say this because I truly want to protect you. He is perfect in the beginning. Really amazing. I remember that part. That is why I agreed to marry him after six months of dating. But it isn’t real, at least it wasn’t with me, it didn’t last, and I would help you avoid that if he hasn’t changed. If he has changed, if he isn’t the guy I remember, if he doesn’t pull the rug out, good for you. If that doesn’t happen, we can cross that bridge then.”

  I try to keep my face impassive, but deep down I’m fuming. The idea that she is essentially saying that I should just not talk about it and she’ll wait till our inevitable breakup is so insulting. “Okay, well, for the time being, let’s just agree that I will minimize boyfriend conversations when we are together.”

  “’Kay.” She’s quiet, and I feel like she wants to say more but doesn’t know how to do it.

  “Lynne, I know you are trying to keep me from hurt, and I am so honestly grateful for that. I know it is possible that he might be everything bad that you say, and in a few months you can yell that you told me so. But I have to believe that it is possible he is different, that what we have is real, and I hope that you will support me however it ends up. I just got you back and I don’t want to lose that again. So please just be honest with me—if I do or say something where he is concerned that makes you mad, don’t let it fester, let’s just keep talking it out, keep being honest with each other?”

  “Fair enough. We will do the very grown-up thing. And for what it’s worth, if it does go sideways, I promise not to say that I told you so. I’ll just maybe think it a little bit.” She gives me a little smile and I smile back.

  “Deal. Okay, then. So, how are things going with you?”

  She looks somewhat relieved to have the hard conversation over, and so am I, even though I don’t really feel like anything has truly been resolved. “Good, actually. Work is great, Angelique is great, the beastie has mostly stopped destroying the house, although if I don’t keep him out of my closet he is still an occasional shoe redesigner.” Ellison and Simca are rolling around and playing happily together. He’s already taller than she is, but she still outweighs him, so it’s a pretty fair pairing.

  “He’ll grow out of that eventually, just keep plenty of chew toys around and make sure your closet door is closed at all times.”

  “Yeah. Oh, and since we aren’t talking about your relationship, I suppose I should tell you that I have a date scheduled from that matchmaker.”

  “None of them are with a married French chef named Bernard, are they?”

  Lynne laughs. “Not as far as I know, but I’ll text you photos when I meet them just to be sure.”

  I laugh. We might not be back, but maybe we’ll be okay eventually. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Look, El, I’m not a total asshole, you know. I want to be happy for you, I really do. It’s just a lot for me, you know?”

  She seems sincere, and my heart softens a bit. “I know. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry for that part.”

  “Well, then, okay.”

  “Okay.”

  We can both say the words, but I don’t know if we can walk the talk. Only time will tell.

  I call Teresa on my way home.

  “How’d it go?” she asks, worry clear in her voice. The whole situation made her really sad and uncomfortable when she heard about it.

  “Okay, I guess. For now. We are going to move forward as respectfully as we can and take it a bit easy for a while. But I dunno, T, she sort of implied that she doesn’t really see the relationship being successful, so she’s just going to kind of ignore it till we break up. So she’s rooting for us to fail, which makes me sad. I love him, Teresa, he feels like home to me, and I know I can’t say that to Lynne, not right now, but I’m not seeing any red flags. I don’t know if we’ll be together forever, but I hate to think that she’s always going to be against us.”

  “Just give her time to get used to the idea. Imagine if the situation had been reversed. I mean, Eloise, he wasn’t her crush or her short-term boyfriend, he was her husband, they took vows. It might not have worked for either of them, and she might have been the one to leave, but damn. That has got to be a lot. It’s hard enough when your ex dates anyone, but one of your oldest, dearest friends? Surely you get her side of things, even if she isn’t expressing them terribly well.”

  “I know, I know, I keep trying to do that, otherwise I might say some stuff I couldn’t take back.”

  “It’s still really fresh. Give it a few weeks to let the initial dust settle, and know that I’ll have your back when you aren’t around. But be aware, be careful. Because there are only two outcomes here: either she is right and he isn’t as amazing as you think, or you are, and he is perfect. If she is right, you are going to be devastated. And if you are, she will have to face the fact that maybe the failure of her marriage was more on her than on him. That’s shitty all the way around.”

  She’s right, and I hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “Just you be careful, of yourself and of her. And I’ll pick up whatever pieces anyone loses along the way.”

  “Thanks, T, that means the world to me, and I know it would to Lynne as well.”

  “In the meantime, maybe you and Shawn and Gio and I can go out one night? I want to meet him, and I’m falling behind on some of the spicing-up-my-marriage stuff. Let’s do some fun, silly, romantic thing—go to Geja’s for fondue or something.”

  “Perfect. I’ll talk to Shawn later and shoot you some dates; we’ll get it on the books. I really think you’ll like him.”

  “Any man who can make you as happy as you have been lately, I think I’ll like him too. Even if Lynne thinks he’s the devil in a man suit.”

  We laugh, and I realize that Teresa makes me feel so much better, about me, about Shawn and me. I know that I’ll always have Teresa, and it makes me sad to think that, out of sheer laziness and stupid inconvenience, I let her be gone from my life for so many years.

  • • •

  I’m taking Simca on an extra-long early walk today, and then dropping her off at my mom’s, since I’ll be with Ian at the America’s Junior SuperChef auditions from seven thirty till God knows when, and I hate to leave her alone for so long. I’m rarely up at the ungodly hour of five thirty, but when Ian suggested in the most politic way that he would be much less nervous with me chaperoning him to the auditions instead of his parents, I couldn’t very well say no. I think Shelby and Brad were a little bit hurt, but they would never show it, and just made me promise to text updates throughout the day.

  “How is my sweet grandpup?” My mom has answered the door in her robe, her mass of curls piled on top of her head in a loose bun.

  “She’s excited to spend the day with you.”

  “Can you come in and get warm for a minute?”

  “Just a minute,” I say. The sky is just starting to lighten, an
d I still have to go pick up Ian and get downtown to the hotel where the auditions are happening.

  “How is Shawn? We had such a lovely time with him last week.”

  Shawn came to family dinner last week and he fortified his good standing with a night full of family photo albums and shared stories, and his grandmother’s recipe for homemade chocolate sour cream Bundt cake. It was a really fun and easy night, and I love how much he is himself with them, not trying hard or putting on a show, just comfortable in his own skin and letting them get to know him.

  “He’s good. He had a great time as well.”

  “We really like the two of you together. It seems like a natural fit.”

  “Thank you. It feels that way to us too.”

  “And Lynne is working through things?”

  I told Mom about the whole debacle and my fears after Lynne and I talked the other day.

  “I don’t know. I think only time will tell. In the meantime, I can’t let her feelings diminish my own, you know?”

  “I do. For what it’s worth, someone who really cares for you wants your happiness more than they want their own comfort in situations like this, so hopefully Lynne will come around once the shock wears off.”

  “Yeah, but still, I do get where she is coming from. It isn’t like they just dated a little, they were married. That’s a lot.” Ever since I talked to Teresa I do keep coming back to that. Trying to keep myself mindful of how much that means.

  “Did you ever think that some of this is fear? That by seeing her through his eyes you might think less of her? Lynne has many fine qualities, and I’ve always believed her to be a good person and she has been a good friend to you. But she’s always been a little on the vain side, putting forward a very controlled and particular face and image. It’s probably why she’s so great at her job. But you have access to sides of her that she has no control over, that she can’t spin, and that must worry her.”