by Erin Duffy
Owen stood and shook Fred’s hand. “Nice to meet you, man. I wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Me too. Good to meet you.”
“I’ll follow you back to the house and pick up Bo. You get settled and figure out how well you can move around with the crutches. He can stay with me as long as you need. I’ll take time off work if I have to. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks. That’d be great, actually,” I agreed. “I don’t want him to see me until I can clean myself up a little bit.”
I wasn’t someone who felt like it was necessary to be friends with an ex. I mean, what was the difference? But in this moment, I realized that Fred was right. There would be a lifetime of accidents, injuries, and celebrations, and it would be so much better for everyone if we could all just get over it. I was going to work on that. Right before I got run over by a car, I was thinking that maybe Connecticut wasn’t such a bad place to live. I didn’t want to let a little thing like a near death experience kill my Zen state. I worked so hard to get there to begin with.
“I’ll meet you at the house. Lissy, thank you for everything. You’re a good friend,” Fred said.
“Thanks. I’ll come over tonight. I’ll bring dinner or something.”
“Are you going to cook it?” I asked.
“I was going to pick it up from Citarella.”
“Sounds great. Actually, swing by Sephora and pick up a red lipstick for me, too. I don’t think I’m going to have time to get there before the party next weekend, and a promise is a promise,” I said.
“Oh my God, who cares about the party? You don’t need to come. It’s fine. I’ll handle it all.”
“Lissy, I know that I’m cracked out right now, and that I was just hit by a car, and that makes anything that comes out of my mouth questionable at best, but let me be clear: I am coming next Saturday. I don’t care if Fred and Owen have to put me on a chair and carry me into the store like we’re doing the hora, but I will be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Lissy kissed the top of my forehead. Then, she left, leaving me with Owen and Fred and a potentially awkward situation that actually wasn’t awkward at all because Owen and I had declared a truce, and also because I was high.
“Owen,” I said, noticing that there wasn’t any anger in my voice when I said his name. “I heard about Dee Dee. I feel like I should say I’m sorry it didn’t work out. But I’m kind of not.”
“I know you’re not. I’m not either,” Owen agreed.
“I want you to be happy. Just not with her. Maybe someday I’ll feel differently, but for now, I’m happy she’s gone.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m happy she’s gone, too. She hasn’t changed much since high school. Originally, I thought that was what I needed in my life. It got old fast. Turns out I need a grown-up.”
“Go figure,” I said.
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am. I totally forgot about everyone who meant anything to me. I don’t know what I was thinking, and I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to our family. Not ever.”
“I know. I want you to know that I’m happy. It took me a while to get here, but I am finally happy. Fred here is a great guy. I think you two will like each other when I decide that it’s okay for you to spend any kind of time together. We aren’t there yet. Even on drugs I know that I don’t want that right now.”
“Good,” Owen said. “You’re crazy, but you deserve to be happy,” he teased.
“Thanks. I’m good crazy, though. Not bad crazy. I just want to make sure that’s clear.”
“Okay,” he said, a little confused, which was fine. He didn’t need to understand me anymore. I wasn’t even sure that he ever did. “Listen, don’t worry about Bo. When you’re ready to see him let me know, and I’ll bring him over.”
“Make him French toast tomorrow for breakfast, okay? He loves it. You need to get the real maple syrup for when he’s at your house. You use that imitation crap. He knows the difference.”
“You’re turning him into a food snob?” Owen asked.
“Antonia has had a lot to do with it, but yes, we are. In a few years I’m going to introduce him to the wonders of eating snout to tail.”
Owen laughed, getting my joke just like I knew he would. We were going to be just fine. It helped that he was a good father, and that he was sorry for what he’d done, and ironically, that he didn’t let me move back to Chicago. If he had, I would’ve never met Fred, and I liked that I had Fred in my life. I also liked that Dee Dee and her manufactured beach waves were gone. That made it easier to forgive him, too.
“I’ll go,” Owen said, kissing me on the forehead the same way Lissy had, like if anyone touched me I might crumble and break like a cookie gone stale. “It was nice to meet you, Fred. Take care of her. If I can do anything, just call.”
“You too, Owen,” Fred said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Owen waved and Fred turned to me, alone in my corner of the emergency room for the first time since he’d arrived. “I can’t believe this happened,” he said. “You could’ve been killed.”
“Nah. It takes more than a little car accident to kill this girl. I’m indestructible. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“You didn’t, but I probably should’ve guessed.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we got in that rock climbing date, huh? I don’t think I’ll be doing anything too active anytime soon.”
“Good thing the weather is about to get colder. You know what that means?”
“Red wine and movies on the couch?” I asked.
“Bingo,” Fred said.
“Then my broken leg timing is perfect because I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more.”
“Except eat pizza with a knife and a fork,” Fred teased.
“Right. Except that.”
“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.
“Yes. All I want is to get out of here. Will you make me a cup of tea when we get there?”
“You got it. Do you want me to get you a wheelchair? Or are you okay to use the crutches the nurse left for you?”
“I can crutch. I’m good. Wheelchairs are for sick people, and ironically, this is the best I’ve felt in months. If you help me, I can do it. Let’s go.”
Fred leaned over and kissed my lips, not my forehead—the way any boyfriend would kiss his girlfriend when he came to see her in the hospital after she’d been hit by a car while Instagramming in a crosswalk.
Chapter 22
FRED WENT TO Sephora. That was how I knew we were seriously serious. What kind of man stepped foot inside the beauty mecca that was Sephora and purchased no fewer than seven different red lipsticks, and some concealer for bruises, for someone he didn’t like a whole lot? No one did—unless he was a cross-dresser, but I’d moved past the phase of our relationship where I feared he had some freaky demons, and instead had resolved myself to the fact that he was just a straight-up nice guy. Imagine that.
“Until today, I would’ve thought that red was red. Now I know better. And I wish I didn’t. It’s too complicated,” he said. “That place is insane. You can get lost in there!”
“Yup. Beauty isn’t effortless. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
“There’s an entire section devoted to fake eyelashes. I didn’t know that was a thing.”
“That’s the least of it. There are fake eyebrows now, too,” I added. I thought about telling Fred that I’d almost worn fake eyelashes on our first date—that I was trying to look sexy, and hip, and thought that that would somehow help. It was crazy to think that I was recently that stupid.
“Why in God’s name would a woman believe she needs fake eyebrows to be beautiful? Who notices eyebrows? You could shave yours off entirely, and I don’t even think I would notice.”
“Yes, but you also don’t mind my Spanx. You’re an anomaly. Not everyone is as wonderful as you are,” I said. It wasn’t forced. The compliment slid off my tongue the s
ame way the oyster slid out of its shell and onto Owen’s lap four months ago. It required very little effort.
“Nah, I just know what’s important.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “How do you feel?” he asked. “You know, Lissy would understand if you weren’t up for it. To be honest, I think you’re pushing it a little. You should probably stay home and rest.”
“Under no circumstances am I staying home today,” I said, as I examined red lipstick number four, an orangey-red called Firecracker, by the window next to the armchair. “This one is too orange,” I said. “This isn’t easy. A lot of women are totally obsessed with makeup, and could probably pick out a color without even trying it on, but I can’t. It was never my thing,” I said.
“That’s because you don’t need it.”
“Sweet talker.”
“Aren’t you just full of compliments today?” he asked. “Thanks.”
“No, that’s the name of this lipstick,” I said. “I think this is the one.” I swiped the color on the inside of my wrist, and it seemed perfect—not too orange, not too blue, not too pink. I ran the matte stick across my mouth and held up my blush compact to examine my face in the mirror. I was right, I looked like I belonged in a Robert Palmer video, which meant that Lissy would totally approve.
I was worried when I woke up this morning that it might rain, but the stormy skies had given way to gorgeous sunshine and sparse clouds, which was exactly what we wanted. It was cloudy enough to keep young mothers out of the park, but nice enough to bring women out shopping. If you were going to order weather to go with a store opening on a Saturday, this would be it.
“You look hot!” Antonia said as she bounded down the stairs in jeans and an eggplant-colored sweater. “You should wear red more often!”
“Do you think it goes well with my cast?” I asked, holding up my white plastered leg. My head still hurt, and I had to spend a large part of my day in bed, which was not where I wanted to spend my days anymore. Ironic.
“Oh, definitely,” Antonia said.
“You look nice, too,” I said as I surveyed her. She was wearing flats, which was totally appropriate, except I wanted her to change her shoes. “Why don’t you wear those suede boots you have?”
“With the heels? They’re uncomfortable as hell. What’s wrong with my flats?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I answered, which was true. “I really like the boots, though. Come on, put them on. I can’t wear anything on my left foot. Let me live vicariously through you.”
“You’re weird, you know that?” Antonia asked.
“Yes. I do,” I answered.
“Okay. I’ll change my shoes. I’ll be right back,” she said as she turned and made her way back upstairs.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Fred asked.
“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I’m just asking. I don’t know how I would feel if someone did this to me.”
“Trust me, it’s going to be fine,” I said, with more confidence than I actually felt. I had no idea if it was going to be fine. I just really hoped it would be.
“Are you ready to go?” Fred asked as he walked over and handed me my crutches.
“I am.” I clasped Fred’s hands and let him pull me up onto one foot, then gingerly placed my crutches under my armpits and began my slow, steady limp toward the front door.
THE WEATHER WAS at once both a blessing and a curse. That, and the fact that there was really nothing to do in this town on weekends except shop and eat oysters, explained why the store was so crowded for the grand opening that people could barely move. I huddled in the corner holding my crutches in front of me as a barricade lest someone accidentally bump into me, and smiled through my pain. We worked hard for this opening. I didn’t want my little injury to ruin it, so I tried to go unnoticed, which wasn’t exactly easy since I was wearing bright red lipstick and a giant plaster cast.
Fred had been sitting next to me for a good part of the afternoon, but it quickly became obvious that we didn’t hire enough waitresses to serve the champagne. “I’ll be back,” he said as he grabbed a tray and began to pass around drinks to the groups of Burberry-clad women roaming the store. I watched him chat, and flirt, and politely offer cocktails, and found it impossible to believe that had I not gone into Manhattan on that exact day, we’d have never met. I was starting to wonder how I ever lived here without him, and then realized that in a lot of ways, I hadn’t.
Lissy looked fabulous, her long hair clipped behind her ears and with a short black dress that highlighted her slender legs. A beautiful gold locket dangled on a wisp of chain around her neck that I’d bet belonged to her mother, because I knew it was important for her to feel like her mother was with her today. Every few minutes, she grabbed the pendant and slid it up and down the chain like a zip-line and I wanted to run over to her and reassure her that she looked beautiful, and that everything was going great, and that her mother would be so proud. It was sweet to see her so nervous. She may have decided to hide herself behind her makeup and her piercings, but inside, she was just as soft as the rest of us—my Goth Princess friend with a heart of gold.
Antonia sat down next to me and handed me a glass of champagne. “Did you take any of your painkillers today?” she asked. “I don’t think you should drink this if you have.”
“I didn’t. I wanted to be able to toast our hard work. I didn’t want to be loopy for the big opening.”
“You guys have done a great job. I’ve overheard a lot of people talking and it sounds like you’re getting rave reviews. I think she’s going to have a lot of new customers after today.”
“I hope so. She deserves it.”
“Claire, I have to say, I think you should really look into working again.”
“Huh? I just got hit by a car, Antonia. Can’t I get a break for a little? No pun intended.”
“You’re so good at this kind of thing.”
“Organizing stationery stores?”
“Marketing. Branding. Business development. There’s so much you can do. You should think about getting into something at least part-time. You have so much talent. I know you think it’s too late, but it’s not. You can reinvent yourself in your career, too.”
“Thank you. I’ve been thinking about a few things. I have some ideas but whatever I decide to do, I want to make sure that I can spend a good amount of time with Bo. I’ve been so worried about what women at the playground, or Dee Dee, or the purple stroller lady, or the mean mommies thought about me and God it feels good to say that I don’t care about any of them anymore,” I said. “I know who I am. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I’m happy. That’s all I care about.” Maybe there’d be a career for me going forward, or maybe not. It didn’t matter, because I wasn’t defined by a business card or lack thereof. I wasn’t going to spend another minute dwelling on what I’d given up or what was taken away. It was so much better to focus on what I had and what I’d gained.
“Then I’m happy, too.” Antonia looked down at the chairs we were sitting on and knocked her fist on the top of the table. “We do good work.”
“It looks pretty good here, don’t you think? This is where it belonged.”
“You’ve come a long way since you were running around your house looking for a sledgehammer, you know.”
“I had a great support system.”
“Yes. And I have to say, I’m very proud of you, bella. You went through hell, and you got hit by a car, but you’re here and you’re happy and you pushed through it all and I don’t know that I would’ve handled it as well as you have. I really don’t.”
“I hope we never find out.”
“I’ve decided that if ever there was a person who deserves this, it’s you.” She reached into her bag and removed a small card. It was the lasagna recipe, written in Antonia’s beautiful, perfect script.
“Oh my God. Are you sure you want to do this? Once it’s out there, you can’t tak
e it back.”
“As long as you swear on our friendship that this recipe will remain a cherished secret, then I firmly believe that the Ricci family recipe belongs with you. Use it wisely. Use it for Fred. He’s a good man.”
I placed the card over my heart and reached over to hug my oldest friend, my closest confidante, and the one true love of my life. People always said they married their best friend, and I didn’t understand why that should be a goal. It would never be for me. A husband or a boyfriend was one thing, and a best friend was another thing entirely. No matter what my relationship status, that title would always be reserved for Antonia, and I’d never allow her to share it with anyone. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you,” I said. “Without you, I’d still be lost, and alone, and scared, and pouring beans in Owen’s belongings, and I can’t think of a worse way to be.”
“You’ll come up with something,” she joked.
I looked up and caught sight of a very cute man with hair that reminded me of cinnamon streusel coffee cake. Even without his white coat, he was handsome, which was good. I was a little worried when I called him that the narcotics had altered my perception, but I needn’t have been worried. Handsome, check. Doctor, check. Single, check. All systems go. “I already have,” I said as I raised my crutch slightly to catch his attention. He was wearing a button-down and brown cotton pants, and I couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to come.
“You didn’t,” Antonia said.
“I did. I had to do something to get you to stay in Connecticut for a little longer. I don’t want you to leave. Bo and I need you here. You belong with us.”
“And you thought a man would make me stay?”
“I was hoping it would delay you. Maybe indefinitely. Italians believe in love above all else, don’t they? Except maybe pasta? Maybe it’s pasta, and then love, but either way love is right up there.”
“I’d be offended, but he’s actually really cute. Who is he?”
“The emergency room doctor who took care of me.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. And I already checked to make sure he’s single. My work here is done. Now, it’s up to you.”
