The Perfect Comeback of Caroline Jacobs

by Matthew Dicks

  “So fill me in on the last twenty-five years,” Caroline said. This was a strategy she had adopted long ago—one she imagined many shy people used. Ask a lot of questions. Keep the other person talking.

  And she needed Emily to talk. Despite the warm greeting, Caroline’s plan was still to deliver the comeback she should have delivered years ago. Not that she knew what that would be, exactly.

  And there was something else.

  It wasn’t the warm embrace or the revelation that Emily had attempted to reconnect with Caroline that was holding her back. There was a shadow lingering behind Emily’s eyes. Something was wrong. Caroline was certain of it. Emily Kaplan-turned-Labonte might be pushing forty, but those were the same eyes of the girl who had once fallen out of the birch tree in her backyard and broken her leg. There had been pain in her eyes that day, but that pain had been nothing compared to what she could see behind Emily’s eyes now.

  That didn’t matter, Caroline told herself. She had come here to say something important, and regardless of what Emily might be going through, it needed to be said. Polly was right. Emily would either deny the charges completely or pass off the incident as a transgression of youth. It would probably become an amusing story for her to tell at dinner parties: The time this girl from high school came back to town to tell me I was a bitch because of something I can’t even remember doing.

  But for Caroline, it would mean something. It would mean that the pregnant pause, one that had lasted nearly a quarter of a century, would finally come to an end. She felt as if she had been holding her breath since that day, that in some sad way she was still standing by the empty table, still searching for the right words that would return her best best friend to her side.

  Now she had those words. They would not bring Emily and Caroline back together, but they would allow Caroline to breathe again. To step away from that empty cafeteria table and resume her life in the direction it should have been headed all along.

  This was Caroline’s moment.

  Emily was describing the four years that she and Randy spent together at Boston College, then the three years that they had spent completing their graduate degrees: she at Northeastern, he at Harvard. With school behind them, they returned to Blackstone, bought a home on Elm Street, and started their family. Randy joined a psychiatric practice in Newton, and about five years ago left to start his own practice with offices in Milford and Providence. Emily had never put her English degree “to any use” (the air quotes were Emily’s), but when Jake entered high school in three years, she was planning on looking for work in advertising or corporate communications.

  Caroline was about to ask what a person in corporate communications did when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a man, a tall, middle-aged man walking quickly across the living room and toward the deck. “Hello,” he said as his approached. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “Randy,” Emily said, rising from her seat. “I didn’t know you’d be home early.”

  Caroline hadn’t seen it at first, but after hearing Emily say his name, she could see the ghost of Randy Labonte in the red-faced man still coming toward them. He hadn’t aged nearly as well as his wife. His hairline had receded dramatically. His face was fuller. Fatter. Almost a second chin. There were wrinkles around his eyes. He wasn’t fat, but he was nothing like the athlete that Caroline remembered.

  “Surprise, surprise,” he said, and though he smiled, the words sounded like they came with a sneer. Something was wrong.

  “Hi,” Caroline said, rising to her feet. “I’m Caroline Jacobs. Waters. You’d remember me as Caroline Waters.”

  “Who?”

  “I went to school with you. Caroline Waters. Emily and I were friends when we were little.”

  Randy turned to Emily. “I didn’t know you were reconnecting with high school friends,” Randy said. That edge to his voice. He sounded angry. He didn’t look angry. But he was angry. No doubt about it.

  He turned back to Caroline, his face still red with anger. “Caroline Waters, you said?”

  “You don’t remember me. I was quiet back then. It’s okay.”

  “Caroline just stopped by for a visit,” Emily said. “It was a surprise.”

  “A surprise visit, huh?” Randy looked from Caroline to Emily. “You don’t see those much these days.”

  “Actually, you and I had chemistry together,” Caroline said. “Mrs. Murphy’s class. I sat in front of you. Remember?”

  “Caroline came up from Maryland yesterday,” Emily explained. “She happened to be in town and decided to stop by and take a chance on my being home.”

  “Yeah, I came from Maryland,” Caroline said, feeling the need to support Emily but not sure why.

  “You came all the way from Maryland just to drop by and see Emily?” He turned to his wife. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Emily’s eyes flashed from Randy to Caroline then back to Randy. She was trying to make a decision, Caroline thought. Trying to decide how much to say. After two days of half-truths and partial stories told to her daughter and husband, Caroline understood the problem well.

  “Why don’t I leave you guys alone?” she said. “I can come back another time.” She saw Emily’s eyes widen at the mention of her leaving.

  “No,” she said. “Please don’t go.” She turned to Randy. “Fine. There never was a ‘friend.’ Okay? I did it all by myself.”

  “What?” Randy’s anger melted into momentary confusion.

  “I told you that I was talking to a girlfriend because I didn’t want you to think that I was crazy. I didn’t want you to think that I was the only one who thought that you and Cara were bad for us.”

  “What about reading the texts?” Randy asked. “The cell phone tracking?”

  “I did that myself. Anyone can do it. Just go to the Web site and you’ll see. It wasn’t rocket science. It’s actually an option offered by the phone company.”

  “You’re telling me that your so-called friend of yours was fake? And her husband and all her agreeable friends were fake, too?”

  “I should probably be going,” Caroline said.

  “I was too embarrassed to tell anyone what you were doing, but I couldn’t stand being all alone. I wanted you to know how wrong people would see it if they only knew.”

  “That’s fucked up,” Randy said. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I don’t care if you believe it or not. It’s the truth.”

  “You expect me to believe that…,” he said, waving a finger in Caroline’s direction.

  “Caroline,” Caroline said. “Caroline Jacobs.”

  “You expect me to believe that Caroline has nothing to do with this. She just stopped by for a visit. That she doesn’t know anything about me and Cara.”

  “I don’t,” Caroline interjected. “I actually have no idea what you guys are talking about.”

  Randy looked from Emily to Caroline and then back to Emily. “I don’t know what to believe. Either you’ve been lying to me all along, or you’re lying to me now. I don’t know which is worse.” He turned to Caroline. “Look, if you’re really not involved with this, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Finish your visit. If that’s what this is.”

  Randy turned. It was an angry, dramatic turn, the kind that you only see on television and in movies, and apparently for good reason. As he turned, his foot caught in the floor rug and he lost his balance. He tripped. He raised his hands to brace himself for the fall, and as he did, his open palms struck the sliding glass door. Cracks fired out from the two spots where his hands connected with the glass, spider-webbing toward the frame. A second later, it gave way, breaking into large pieces, sending Randy through the window and onto the deck in a sprawl.

  fifteen

  Caroline moved first, closing the gap and reaching Randy, who had rolled onto his back after striking the ground. He was holding his hands above him and swearing, a constant stream of panicked, angry expletives. Both hands were
bleeding, but Caroline could tell at once that the wounds were not serious. Blood was trickling down his bare arms, not streaming.

  A flesh wound, Polly would say in an English accent, though Caroline still didn’t understand the reference.

  “Don’t move,” Caroline said. “Let me see your hands.” Caroline examined each one, looking to see if there was any glass embedded in the skin. She saw none. She turned and saw Emily, still frozen in her spot by her chair, surveying the scene with wide eyes and white knuckles, too shocked to move.

  “Help me lift him up,” Caroline said, feeling oddly in charge despite the circumstances. “I don’t want him to cut his elbows or knees on the glass.”

  Caroline took one hand and Emily took the other, and together, they pulled Randy up and out of the pile of broken glass.

  “Should I call an ambulance?” Emily asked.

  “I don’t think we need one,” Caroline said. “Go run your hands under the kitchen sink. As long as there isn’t any glass jammed too far into the skin, I think you’ll be okay. You got lucky. If that glass had broken when you first fell into it, I think it would’ve been much worse.”

  “Okay,” Randy said, staring down at his hands. All his anger and indignation was gone. It was as if the universe had chastised him for his behavior. He headed for the kitchen.

  “I’ll help,” Emily said, turning to follow her husband. Then she stopped and looked back. “Listen, Caroline. I can’t … I mean, could you…”

  “Get him bandaged up. Just point me to a broom and dustpan so I can sweep this up. Then we can talk. Or not. Whatever you want.”

  Emily smiled a little. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

  * * *

  “You don’t have to say a thing,” Caroline said, when Emily returned to the living room some fifteen minutes later. “It’s none of my business.” She had decided upon these two sentences while sweeping up the glass. A small part of her still wanted to complete her original mission and hurt this woman, but Caroline couldn’t bring herself to humiliate her any more than she already had been. Caroline had entered the home of her high school nemesis, the mean girl who had changed the course of her life in ways she was just beginning to understand. But now, more than ever, that girl also seemed like the childhood friend she had once loved.

  “He’s got this friend at work,” Emily said. “Cara. He says it’s nothing. Just a friend. It’s probably true. A man can have a woman for a friend. Right? I just don’t know if that’s what this is. I think maybe it’s not.”

  “You don’t need to tell me this.”

  “That’s the problem,” Emily said. “I haven’t told anyone.”

  “But Randy seemed to think—”

  “I didn’t want to tell any of my friends. It’s too embarrassing. And it might be nothing. And if it’s nothing, I don’t want my girlfriends to hate him forever. They all think he’s so sweet. But I didn’t want to be the crazy, jealous wife so I told him that I’ve been talking to one of my friends about it. I just wouldn’t tell him which friend.”

  “Have you met this woman yet? Do you know her?”

  Emily opened her mouth to answer, and her expression transformed from anger to sadness. Her eyes welled with tears and her bottom lip quivered in a way that Caroline remembered from their childhood.

  “It’s okay,” Caroline said. “We don’t have to talk about any of this. I can go.”

  “No it’s not okay,” she said. “They work together all day. He sees her more than me. Then when they’re not together, they’re texting each other. All the time. Nights. Weekends. I don’t care what he says. It’s just not right.” She began to cry.

  Caroline put her arm around her friend and pulled her close. Emily sobbed for a solid minute until, with great resolve, she took a few deep breaths, straightened her back, and wiped her face with her palms. “The girls will be back soon,” she said. “I don’t want Jane to see me like this. The kids don’t know.”

  “Okay,” Caroline said.

  Emily sighed. “I haven’t told anyone about it. You’re the only one. It’s just so humiliating.”

  “Is Randy okay?” Caroline asked.

  “No, he’s not okay,” Emily said. “He’s texting some girl ten years younger than me a hundred times a day. We have kids, for Christ’s sake. What the hell is he thinking?”

  “No, I mean his hands. Are his hands okay?”

  Emily smiled a little. “Sorry. Yes, they’re fine.”

  “You have some on your shirt,” she said, pointing to Emily’s blouse. “And your pants, too.”

  “Damn it. I’d better change.”

  As Emily stood to leave the room, Randy reentered. He offered Caroline a sheepish smile. “I’m fine. Just a couple small cuts. Thanks for the help.”

  “I told her the truth,” Emily said.

  Caroline wished she could slink beneath the couch cushions and disappear.

  “I got blood on my shirt,” Emily said. “I have to change.”

  “Okay,” Randy said.

  Randy waited until Emily had left the room before sitting down in a chair opposite Caroline. “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “Not exactly what you expected when you decided to pay your childhood friend a visit.”

  “You believe me, then,” Caroline said.

  “Yes. I actually remember you now. If I had taken half a second to use my brain, I would’ve recognized you. It’s just—it’s been a tough few weeks. And I can be an idiot sometimes.”

  “It’s all right. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “Thanks,” he said, taking a seat in a chair opposite her. “So tell me, why are you back in Blackstone? Is your family still here?

  “My mom still lives here,” Caroline said, feeling more uncomfortable by the moment. She had come with the intention of destroying a woman and now she felt as if she was betraying her by talking to her possibly unfaithful husband. “Maybe I should go,” Caroline said. “The girls are probably on their way back. I could pick up Polly and drive Jane home if you’d like.”

  “No, I should go,” Randy said. “You and Emily haven’t seen each other in years. Don’t let me ruin your visit any more than I already have.”

  “It’s fine. I think you and Emily have more important things to talk about anyway.”

  “I think we’re all talked out, to be honest.”

  At that moment, the front door opened. Jane and Polly entered, sipping sodas.

  “We’re back!” Jane said.

  “Hi, Mom,” Polly said, sounding a little too normal for Caroline’s liking.

  Caroline took the opportunity to stand, hoping to use this change in position as the momentum she needed to affect a graceful exit. “Hi, girls,” she said. “Did you have a good time?”

  “We did,” Polly said. “It was loads of fun.”

  Now Caroline knew that something was up.

  “Yeah, we had a good time,” Jane said. “Hey Mom, what are we doing for dinner tonight?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it yet,” Emily said. She had reentered the room. Caroline wondered how long she had been standing there.

  “Perfect,” Jane said. “Polly’s grandmother invited us over for dinner. You knew her when you were a kid, too. Right?”

  “I did,” Emily said. “But I haven’t seen her in years.”

  “That’s why my nana invited you to dinner,” Polly explained. “She wants to see you. Catch up on old times.”

  “Catch up on old times?” Caroline said, more to herself than anyone in the room.

  “She’s the lady who owns the pet cemetery,” Jane added. “The one on Main Street. I’ve always wanted to see it, but Dad made me bury Mr. Wiggins in the woods. Remember?”

  “I remember,” Emily said, turning to Caroline. “I didn’t know that was your mother.”

  “Nana invited Emily and Jane over for dinner?” Caroline asked. She couldn’t imagine a scenario in which her mother would do such a thing.

  “Jane’s dad and
brother, too,” Polly added. “The whole family.”

  At his mention, Randy Labonte rose. “Hi, I’m Randy,” he said, holding his hand out to Polly. “Mr. Labonte, I guess, to you.”

  “Hi, I’m Polly. Nice to meet you, Mr. Labonte. Can you come for dinner, too?” she asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” Randy said.

  “What happened to the door?” Jane asked, pointing in that direction.

  “A little accident,” Emily said.

  “Everythink okay?” Jane asked warily.

  “A-okay, muffin,” Emily said. “Everything’s fine. Just fine.”

  “Nana really invited Emily and her family over for dinner?” Caroline said.

  “Yes,” Polly said, sounding annoyed. “Six o’clock. Barbecued chicken. It’s going to be a blast. Nothing better than sharing a meal with old friends and new friends. Right, Mom?”

  Now Caroline knew that something was up.

  sixteen

  As soon as they were back in the car and moving, Polly removed her phone from her pocket.

  “Don’t you want to know how it went?” Caroline asked.

  She planned on lying to Polly. She would tell her that harsh words had been exchanged, an apology had been offered, and it was now all water under the bridge. She had no desire to share Emily and Randy Labonte’s marital struggles with her daughter, nor did she want to be chastised by Polly for failing in her mission.

  “Hi, Nana,” Polly said, her face pressed against the phone. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Mom’s friend Emily and her family over for dinner tonight.”

  “She doesn’t know?” Caroline said.

  “Yeah. Can you make barbecued chicken?” A pause, and then Polly said, “Exactly.” Another pause and then, “I’ll let her tell you. Thanks, Nana. I’ll see you soon. Bye!”

  “You invited them for dinner?” Caroline said. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that after those oatmeal-raisin cookies, there was no way you were going to tell Emily off. If I didn’t force the two of you together again, it might never happen.”