by T. Torrest
“Thank you. It’s Anthony’s mother’s recipe.”
“You should serve it at the restaurant,” Brenda piped in.
Tony wiped his mouth with a napkin, threw the thing on top of his plate, and leaned back in his chair. “Nah. It’s not really an Italian dish. I start adding in stuff like this, my whole menu will be skewed.”
“Well,” Brenda amended pleasantly enough, “then I’m going to insist you give me a copy of the recipe. I never know what to make when it’s my night to coo—”
Instantaneously, Bren’s smile turned downward along with her eyes once she realized what she’d said. But who could blame her for the blunder? Our separation was too new to break out of old habits. And with the four of us seated around the table like any other ordinary Monday, it was easy to see why she slipped. The problem was that we’d been together too long. All four of us; not just Bren and me. It was going to de difficult as all hell to get used to being apart.
Ginny attempted to fill in the awkward silence. “I made carrot cake for dessert. Brenda? Will you help me clear the table? You boys can wait for us in the living room.”
Smooth, Gin. Why not flash a neon sign that says WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT YOU WHILE WE’RE IN THE KITCHEN.
In any case, I took Tony up on his offer of a cigar, so he grabbed the Remy Martin and we headed out onto the front porch. I took a seat on one of the powder-coated metal chairs and tipped my head up to the sky. There was only the slightest chill out, and it was a clear, cloudless night.
Tony cut a Macanudo for me and handed it over along with a snifter of cognac. I dipped an end of the cigar in the amber liquid and lit the other with Tony’s Zippo. Flipping the lid closed, I inspected the silver lighter in my hand, taking special note of the engraving:
Brenda and Eddie
July 26, 1975
I held it up, practically accusing him with my eyes. “I haven’t seen this thing since I gave it to you at our wedding rehearsal. Did you break it out tonight on purpose?”
Tony smiled and raised his eyebrows as he snatched it out of my hand. “I swear I didn’t. At least not consciously.” He lit his cigar before leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretched out toward the railing, crossed at the ankles. “But now that you mention it…”
My question had inadvertently set him up with an opening to pry into the subject of my failed marriage. I wasn’t much looking forward to discussing it. “Jesus Christ.”
“Nope. Just your old pal Anthony.”
“Are you really going to make me talk about this?”
With the cigar clamped between his teeth, Tony clasped his fingers behind his head. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”
“I was kind of hoping the night would just sort of stay on the course we’ve been following.”
“I know you did.” He gave a shrug and added, “I think all four of us are trying to avoid talking about it. Maybe it’s like a psychological thing, trying to hold onto the last moments of our foursome.”
“Before it all gets blown apart?”
“Something like that.”
I took an inhale off my cigar and ran my hands through my hair. My next words came out amidst a cloud of smoke. “Kaboom, dickhead.”
CHAPTER 10
You’re My Home
EDDIE
Tuesday, December 2
1969
There was no way we could go to school that day.
After the scene that had played out at Brenda’s house the night before, we were both drained. So, we hashed a plan with Tony and Ginny for the four of us cut class and meet at The Parkway Diner to try and sort it all out.
The thing was, the Vietnam draft lottery was televised last night. Me and Anthony weren’t old enough yet for it to affect us, but Bren’s older brother fell right into the pool of potential draftees. The nerves were running pretty high in the Rinetti household, so I’d gone over to lend my emotional support. I thought I was in for an entire night of hand-wringing but as it turned out, the Rinettis’ worst fears were confirmed before the broadcast had barely begun; April twenty-fourth was pulled on the second pick.
The second.
A dead pall hung over the room for a solid minute. Finally, Bobby broke the silence when he jibed, “Happy birthday to me.”
Mrs. Rinetti immediately put her face in her hands and cried inconsolably. Her wailing was so loud the entire neighborhood must have heard it. Mr. Rinetti slid across the plastic-covered couch and put his arms around his wife. “Well, that’s it, then. I’ll put in for that transfer to Vancouver.”
My stomach dropped as Bren’s eyes met mine in a panic. She stopped chewing her nail to ask her father incredulously, “Canada? Daddy, you can’t be serious!”
Mr. Rinetti stood, his booming voice bouncing off the walls. “I am one-hundred-percent serious and don’t you dare question my decisions ever again, young lady!”
Bren looked appropriately chastened but her outburst had prompted her brother to take up the argument. A two-hour long debate ensued regarding the merits for and against leaving the country. Mr. and Mrs. Rinetti were dead-set on expatriating; Bobby offered his half-assed arguments against it. I was surprised to see his willingness to stick around and take his chances. If it were me, I’d have already been across the border.
We’d spent the bulk of our breakfast filling our friends in on the scene that went down the night before, and Tony laughed when I got to that part of the story. “So what now?” he asked a bit more seriously, tapping his straw against the bottom of his Coke.
Bren took over from there. “Well, now I guess we’re moving to Canada. We could hold off until Bobby gets called up for his induction but my parents aren’t willing to wait around for that. They’re already packing up the house.”
“What a drag,” Ginny sighed. “You don’t even like the guy and now your whole life is going to be turned upside down because of him.”
“Yes, he’s an asshole but that doesn’t mean I want to see him dead!”
“That’s not what I was saying.”
“I know. I know.” Bren put a hand across her forehead and stared down at her plate of eggs.
“So you’re really moving to Canada?” Ginny asked.
Brenda met my eyes and bit her lip. Neither one of us had any idea how we’d be able to survive apart. “I just don’t think I can go through with it. I want to stay here. Aunt Judy already said I could move in with her, but she lives in a one-bedroom apartment. I’d be sleeping on a couch right up until I leave for college next fall. Plus, I’ll have to get a job because she can’t afford to take care of herself, much less me.”
“I wish you could just come live with us,” Ginny lamented.
That was enough to get Bren smiling. She gave a chuckle and let her friend off the hook. “Ginny. Your crazy Catholic family already has six kids to deal with.”
“Well, what’s one more?”
Ginny was already sharing a cramped room with her three sisters. There was simply not enough space for another person in that house, much less another girl, and we all knew it. But it was her typically sweet demeanor that prompted her to at least make the offer.
“You’re a good friend, Gin,” I said, causing her to blush.
Then I threw a crumpled napkin at her head.
While we were laughing about that, I pulled Bren a little closer against my side. I hoped she knew that regardless of whatever was going to happen, I’d always be there for her.
Whether she was there or not.
CHAPTER 11
A Matter of Trust
BRENDA
Monday, September 22
1980
“Why did he have to wear that damned suit?” I asked the ceiling, my hands out at my sides.
Virginia laughed as she pulled some Tupperware out of her cabinet. “He does look pretty lethal in the thing. But then again, you look like you’re trying to kill him right back.”
Misinterpreting her comment, I shot back, “H
ey. I have been perfectly agreeable out there tonight. I’ve been nicer than pie.”
“You’ve been very good, yes.” Virginia waved her fingers up and down in the general direction of my body. “But you’re looking very, very bad.”
I couldn’t suppress a smirk at my friend’s assessment. “Okay. You caught me. I know how much Eddie loves this dress.”
“Well, why wouldn’t he? You look fantastic in it.”
Good old Virginia. What use was a best friend if they couldn’t tell you how foxy you looked when confronting your ex?
I slugged back the last of my second drink—or was it my third?—and placed the wine glass on the counter. I needed to get myself right before our “marriage counseling session” could begin. I wouldn’t be able to approach the conversation properly if I was high. Virginia was packing up the last of the leftovers as I gave a shake to my head and put my game face on. “So, what kind of interrogation can I expect out there tonight?”
She slid the container into her fridge before answering. “No interrogation. Just a simple sit down. The two of you need to talk about this for crying out loud, and Anthony and I are going to make sure you do. That’s all.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Yes.” She poured herself another glass of wine as she added, “But I’m telling you now. Anthony isn’t going to stand for any of that evasive garbage you tried to feed me on Saturday. If you don’t have legitimate enough reasons for wanting this divorce, he’ll never let it happen.”
I barked out a sharp, “Ha! How does he intend to stop us?”
Virginia didn’t find her statement as amusing. “The question is, how do you intend to stop Anthony?”
A quick shiver ran down my spine at her words. I was all too aware that Tony knew all the movers and shakers in the entire state of New Jersey, and hadn’t considered that he’d be the first person we’d ask to find us a lawyer. If he didn’t “let” us divorce, it would be months before we could figure out a way to do it on our own.
“He wouldn’t really hold things up, would he?”
Virginia took a sip of her wine, perching her hip against the counter. “You can’t think we’re just going to let you do this without putting up a fight, can you?”
I knew my friends were stubborn, and probably just as heartbroken about my impending divorce as I was, but they had to see we’d already made up our minds. “Ginny,” I started in, my voice shaking. “I really don’t know what Eddie and I will do to each other if this doesn’t happen. It’s sweet that you and Tony arranged this dinner, but I already told you, we’re not negotiable on this issue. Trying to talk us out of it at this point will simply be a waste of everyone’s time.”
* * *
An hour into our “little chat,” Virginia could see exactly what I meant.
The four of us were sitting in separate corners of the living room, the same room where we’d spent countless hours playing cards, board games, watching movies. It was the room where Eddie and I announced our engagement, the room where I saw Rhoda Morgenstern’s wedding dress on the TV and knew I wanted to get married in one just like it.
And now, here we were, discussing our divorce.
Virginia had spent the past sixty minutes putting up the good fight. She recited an entire oral history of our lives together, reminding us of the many memories we shared. She tried her darnedest to bring us back to the beginning, to the days when Eddie and I had fallen in love, to the many years we’d spent building a life together, repeatedly wondering aloud how we could just throw all that aside. She had come at Eddie and me from every angle, but my husband and I had shot down her arguments at every turn.
Finally, she just got right down to it. “But I just don’t understand why. Why are you separating?” she asked, her eyes pleading.
Eddie had ditched his jacket and was rolling the cuffs of his blue shirt up to his elbows, stalling for time. He could have easily pointed the finger at me and called it a day but it wasn’t in him to deliberately hurt me, and I knew he was measuring his words before delivering them. Finally, his mouth pursed in a grim line before answering the question. “Because we forgot how to make each other happy.”
Apparently, that was about all Virginia could take. She looked to the both of us in astonishment before shrieking back, “Well, figure out a way! You think it’s all sunshine and lollipops over here twenty-four seven? Grow up! It’s a marriage. It’s not about being happy every minute.”
That’s when I stepped in. “We think it should be.”
“That’s not how life works.”
“But it’s how we work, Gin.”
Virginia deflated at that. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to talk us into her vision of marriage. She and Tony were a great couple, but I was pretty sure they didn’t expect every moment to be perfect. And maybe that’s the way it was supposed to be. I don’t know. All I knew was how things were supposed to be for Eddie and me. And they weren’t.
Left without an argument, Virginia went for the jugular. “But don’t you love each other?”
Eddie and I couldn’t avoid meeting each other’s eyes at our friend’s question. There was a lump in my throat, so there was no way I was going to be able to field that one—and Eddie knew it. He’d always been able to read me.
He cleared his throat and offered, “Of course we do, Gin. We’ve always loved each other. God willing, we always will.”
“Then why are you doing this?” she practically cried.
Eddie sat at the edge of the upholstered chair, his elbows on his knees, his eyes scrutinizing his clasped hands. I was sure I wasn’t the only one in that room who could see how hard it was for him to come up with the right words. But the ones he did come up with shocked me. “I love Bren enough to want to make her happy—I’d do anything to make her happy; you know that. If this is what she wants, I’m not going to stand in her way.”
Virginia’s heart visibly broke at that as she sank into the couch, taking in Eddie’s words. There were tears in her eyes as she turned an accusing glare on me. “So, this was all your idea?”
I was touched by what my husband said, so I guess I didn’t immediately register that his proclamation made me out to be the bad guy. Time to suck it up. The divorce was my idea. “Yes,” I offered simply, laying myself on the altar.
“But… But you love him! And he loves you! There has to be a way to save this. Have you considered counseling?”
“We have,” I answered.
“And?”
My eyes dropped to my feet, unable to come up with the right thing to say. She’d backed me into a corner and I certainly didn’t want to lie just to get out of it. Eddie and I made the decision long ago that we were going to be as honest with our friends as humanly possible about our reasons for separating, so I had no idea how I could even begin to discuss a subject that was venturing into such a gray area. Saying anything specific about counseling required more detail than I was willing to offer.
Luckily, he spoke up for me. “We’ve been in counseling for the past six months, Gin. It’s not working. We weren’t getting anywhere and we can’t afford to go anymore anyway.”
My head snapped up at his confession. He shot a quick glance in my direction, silently seeking forgiveness for letting that little cat out of the bag, willing me to approve his comment. After the initial shock wore off, I was able to give him a nod of my head in acceptance. Because he’d managed to dispense the line of questioning with a succinct, ambiguous answer, our friends could tell we were uncomfortable discussing it, and they wouldn’t press us for details.
Anthony had been watching the conversation go down in complete silence, his head following along in mute observation. Suddenly, though, he broke his quiet to ask us the sixty-four-thousand dollar question—no pun intended. “Is this really all about money?”
The inquiry was aimed directly at me, so I knew Eddie or Virginia must have already told Tony about the main reason for our divorce. “Not exactly the way you�
�re making it sound, but yes,” I admitted, head held high.
Tony clenched his jaw, hesitating for a brief second before his eyes tightened, scrutinizing me. “Why? Because you don’t want to work? I’ve heard that complaint from you before, Brenda, and let me tell you something: It’s lazy. You want to sit on a throne all day eating bon-bons? Eddie could never afford to give you that kind of life.”
His words were like a bucket of ice water thrown in my face. I’d been friends with Tony since high school, but it suddenly became apparent to me that he viewed our friendship as expendable. I’d been accused, tried, and convicted within a matter of minutes, and the sentence was undeniably clear: Tony’s loyalties would remain with Eddie. I was the outsider in this little circle. I was the villain.
Instinctively, I shot my gaze over to Virginia. Surely, she’d still be on my side through this, no? But my best friend was having some trouble meeting my eyes, her focus trained on the twisting skirt in her ironclad grasp.
Eddie’s head was down, but his brows were raised as he met my glare. The look on his face was pained, consumed with a mixture of guilt and pride.
The revelation was unmistakable. The three of them were making it pretty damn clear where the line had been drawn… and that I was on the wrong side of it.
“Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I guess I should be going. Thank you both for a lovely dinner.”
I rose, grabbing my purse, hiding my face so my friends wouldn’t see the tears forming behind my eyes. I was hurt, but mostly, I was ashamed. I couldn’t blame them for thinking I was a gold-digging witch. The separation was fueled because of my ambitions, and of course money didn’t seem like a good enough reason to rip their friend’s heart out. I wished I could explain things better, make them see my side of things.
But I couldn’t.
I left the house without fanfare, taking a huge, cleansing breath before descending the porch steps. But before I could reach the sidewalk, Eddie bounded out the front door. “Bren! Wait up.”
