When Girlfriends Let Go

by Savannah Page

  “Got it!” Gatz slaps the wall twice before disappearing.

  I drain the small remainder of orange juice. “So.” I lean forward and poke Sophie in the arm. “What’s up with the drams?”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s Evelyn.”

  “Evelyn now? Sheesh. Is anyone good enough to work in your café?”

  She gives me a stony look. “Emily and Gatz are wonderful workers,” she says simply. She pokes me in the ribs and I let out a small yelp. “And I’m sure you would be, too, if you actually lifted a finger.” She motions to the stack of pink napkins. “Here, help me roll these. Please.” She taps at the pile of spoons.

  “Fine,” I say, picking up a napkin. “And the drams?”

  She shakes her hands wildly and says in a flurry, “Chad and Evelyn are sleeping together.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  “Like, sleeping-sleeping? Or a one-night thing?”

  Sophie groans loudly. “Ew, please. Gross! Don’t paint a picture.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Emily. She told me Chad made it quite clear that he and Evelyn are an—an—” She crinkles her nose and makes a sick face.

  “What?” I press.

  “An item. They hooked up one night and now they’re an item.”

  “We talking relationship?”

  “I don’t know!” She sends a napkin flying into the air and stomps back to the flatware drawer. “Emily just said it happened while I was in Paris, one thing led to another, and apparently they’re an item. Chad and Evelyn. Evelyn and Chad. Eee. It’s so weird.”

  “And this is a problem because…”

  “Because they’re employees! They shouldn’t be sleeping together!”

  I laugh loudly and toss aside the napkin. “Hello? Earth to Sophie. Are you not aware that Em and Gatz work together? That they’re in L-O-V-E love?” I make kissing noises.

  “That’s different.” She shuts the drawer with a swing of her hip. “Gatz is a good guy.”

  “I thought a second ago Chad was a good guy. A nice guy. He works here for free. I wouldn’t even work here for money.” I walk over to the nearby counter and jump up onto it. “No offense.”

  “It’s not the same,” she huffs. “And do you know what this means? Why I’m pissed?”

  I lean over, neglecting my napkin-rolling duties, and pull from my bag the Parisian copy of Vogue I grabbed at Charles de Gaulle right before my return flight home. “Why? Why is Sophie Wharton pissed?”

  “Because this is so typical Chad. He’ll sleep with her, charm her, use her, and then he’ll break her heart. Then I’ll be left with two angry employees, and they’ll both threaten to quit because they can’t work together. Might us well cut off the weak duckling right away. Chad’s got to go. Period.”

  “Sophie—”

  “No.” She’s positively adamant, borderline livid. “I can’t lose Evelyn. She’s awesome around here and really getting the hang of things. Chad’s expendable and he’ll only cause trouble. He’ll be all kissy-kissy around her and distract her and—no! I can’t have it.”

  “Well, you’re the boss.” I casually flip past pages of gorgeous shoes and stunning gowns, all items I’ll probably never be able to buy again.

  “And the weirdest part…” Sophie prattles on. “Aside from the whole thing being frickin’ weird. Sick.”

  “Mmmhmm?” I flip past more lovely pages, past words upon words I can’t understand, aside from the occasional “chic,” “couture,” and “magnifique.”

  “The weirdest part,” Sophie says, “is when Emily told me about their little shack-up-affair. She was all hesitant and kind of weird about it.”

  “Probably because she knew you’d get in a tizzy over it. Firing the poor loser.”

  “Well, whatever. I’m letting Chad go. It’s for the best.”

  I open my mouth, about to say something in jest—some snide remark about Chad, some joke about how he’s dating Evelyn—when Sophie’s words hit home. I’m letting Chad go. It’s for the best.

  “Come on,” she says, gesturing to the napkins and flatware. “I could really use the help.”

  “Yeah.” I set down my magazine, my eyes grazing past a gorgeous rose gold and peach champagne sapphire ring. “So could I,” I’m about to mutter, but decide against it as I watch Sophie methodically and almost meditatively roll the flatware into neat little pink rolls, as if she’s trying to package her anger and frustration and do just about anything to keep her mind off her troubles. I decide to try to do the same, but the emptiness that fills my heart, my gut, grows with each attempt at letting go.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “This is it!” Robin says with round, hazel eyes. “This is the moment you’ve been looking forward to for a long time, and the moment we’ve all been dreading.”

  “Ohhh,” Emily whines, pouting with a thick lower lip. “Are you going to get all mushy on me?”

  “Well,” Robin shifts in her seat on Emily’s luxurious sofa that’s been my bed for going on two weeks now, “we all know how much you deserve this and want this…and need this. Of course we’re happy for you, Emily, but I know I’m not alone in saying that I’m going to miss you like crazy.”

  Emily criss-crosses her legs and lays the flimsy folds of her tan cotton skirt over her knees. “At least it’s not like Africa,” she says optimistically. “I’m not going to the third world this time. Gatz and I will have our computers, we’ll have internet, we can talk and Skype.”

  “Not all the time,” Lara says pragmatically. “You two will be so busy, studying, volunteering, traveling, chasing wild dingos or something. Not to mention the time difference!”

  We laugh and Emily says, “You’re probably right. We are going to get to do some awesome backpacking around the country, and New Zealand, too, before his classes start.” She gets a dreamy look about her.

  I know Emily intends to keep in touch, and she means well. It’s not like she wants to run away and avoid us. Usually she’s in such a remote part of the world that she finds it next to impossible to find a way to contact us. That’s fine, I get it. But when her wanderlust calls, she answers, and if that means forgetting about that promised phone call or a very delayed email, so be it.

  “I’ll definitely try to do a better job at keeping in contact,” Emily says determinedly. “Jack’s going to be living at my place full time for a while.” She pats my knee and gives me a smile. “At least until she and Andrew are back together. I’ll have to check in to make sure this place hasn’t gone up in flames.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I say.

  Emily claps my knee a few playful times. “I’m kidding.”

  “So how is the progress with that, Jack?” Claire asks. She hugs her knees into her chest and rocks on her position on the floor. She’s still dressed in her scrubs, wearing no makeup and looking a bit tired and run down. She’s still putting in heinous hours at the hospital and making extra patient rounds and house calls, Conner’s career situation growing more precarious by the day.

  Sophie told me the other day when I was at the café that Conner’s already written up his two-week notice and is just waiting for the right time (and the nerve) to deliver it. Still no replacement job in sight, so it’s obvious why he’s been hesitant. But apparently his boss is throwing the crappy and small-time projects his way, paying all the attention and giving great, undeserved praise to the new outside hire. Conner used to be respected, but now it’s as if he’s old hat. I feel his pain. I still think Andrew’s been quick to do away with me because he’s ready to take that next step with Nikki.

  “Jackie?” Claire asks, rubbing the corner of one sleepy eye. “How are things with Andrew going?”

  Emily’s hand instinctively goes out to my knee, and she begins to rub it.

  “It’s—” I start, but I don’t know how to end. “It’s—It’s—” I look to Emily and give her a questioning glance.

  “It’s still…complicated?�
�� Emily finishes for me, slowly.

  Claire nods in understanding, or perhaps sympathy.

  “You just need some time,” Lara says. Her tone sounds assured.

  “Yeah,” Sophie pipes in. “I don’t believe in much, but I do believe that time is the great healer of all wounds and suffering.”

  “Yup,” Robin says. “You’re still seeing Dr. Pierce, right?” She quickly checks her cell phone—something she does all the time when both children are not by her side.

  I sniff and say, “For now. Who knows when Andrew will yank that rug from under me?”

  “What do you mean?” Claire makes a puzzled face.

  “Well,” I sigh, “aside from my car and the clothes on my back, in my bags, and Bella, I don’t really have anything anymore. My therapy sessions are on auto-bill, auto-pay and I just show up according to schedule, or sometimes last minute, thrown-in sessions… I never bother with payment. Andrew has all that taken care of.”

  “So you think he’d really cut you off like that?” Claire asks in a bothered tone. “I mean, that’s like medication! You can’t just take a patient off of their meds—you can’t stop therapy cold turkey like that!”

  “That’d be a jackass move,” Sophie says sharply. “If he did that, Jack…”

  “I’d key the douche’s car,” Lara says.

  “See?” I say with a sly grin. “There’s always a time and a place for keying cars, slashing tires…”

  “You slashed Nathan’s tires, too?” Robin gasps.

  “No,” I say. “Although if I’d had more time…” I glance to my right at Emily. “If I hadn’t been coerced into not doling out justice, then I think that would’ve been the icing on the cake.”

  “Didn’t you slash an ex’s tires in college or something?” Claire says. She squints, trying to recall the memory I (and Lara) know all too well.

  “Not exactly. My junior year…” Lara says with a roll of the eyes. “But thank god it wasn’t slashing tires—”

  “Or keying,” Emily interrupts.

  “It wasn’t that bad, girls,” I say in a brushed-off kind of way.

  “It was two dates,” Lara says. “I went on two dates with the guy and he stood me up on the third. Not quite an ex-boyfriend and certainly not a reason to go and paint his car windows with profanity.”

  “Profanity, proshmanity,” I say.

  “Spray-painting?” Robin says, agog. “You spray-painted his car?”

  “Shoe polish,” I correct. “That was before I learned how to really get revenge.” I casually shrug. “That jerk hurt my friend’s feelings, and he deserved to feel hurt, too! Besides, I also did the girls on campus a favor. Rumor had it on sorority row he wasn’t packing much south of the border, so…”

  “Oh, Jackie,” Lara huffs. “Teensy-weensy or Guinness World Record-holder, you’re crazy. He so didn’t deserve that. Again, your heart is in the right place, your head not so much.”

  “Hey, you can’t deny that you feel a little bit good about what I did to Nathan, though. Right?”

  “I don’t condone it, but…yes,” Lara says with a weak smile, “I do feel good that saga’s behind me.”

  “Exactly! So glad that asshole’s done with,” Claire says with a dusting of the hands for dramatic emphasis.

  “Yeah. Lara’s moving on to bigger and better fish to fry,” I say.

  “Mr. Sexy Businessman,” Sophie sings.

  “Worth,” Robin says with a wink. “Worth is worth it, eh?”

  Lara gives a disbelieving look to Robin. “You’re a dork, but yes. Worth and I are doing great, dating a lot. Well, when our busy work schedules allow.” We all nod in understanding. “But it’s kind of refreshing to date someone who’s in the same career boat—two nerdy MBAs who understand each other.” She bashfully shakes her head. “We both work for demanding firms, have similar schedules, are dedicated to our careers. It’s a good match, Worth and I, and of course there’s a whole lot more we have in common.” She smiles tightly. “I’m really happy with him and how things are going. He’s so mature and driven and intelligent…”

  “She’s smitten,” Claire says with a giggle.

  “I hope it works out for you,” Robin says. “Worth sounds fabulous, and I haven’t seen you so happy in a long while.”

  “Yeah,” Emily says. “When you were with Nathan those last few months…” She makes a sour face.

  “Not happy,” I finish for her.

  “Definitely not as happy as you should be,” Claire says. “Conner and I may have ten years on our relationship, and sometimes things can get routine and humdrum.” She pushes behind her ear a thick blonde curl that’s escaped from her ponytail. “But we make each other happy. The love is there, so the happiness, the contentment is there.”

  “Absolutely,” Robin says. “A relationship like Claire’s and Conner’s, or mine and Bobby’s… It’s not really a gooey, butterflies-in-the-stomach-twenty-four-seven kind of thing like at the beginning.” Claire nods, and Robin can’t fight her smile, obviously thinking back on those first dates with Bobby. “But it’s still love. The sparks are still there, they’re just…different, I guess. Good, but different.”

  “That’s how it is with Worth now,” Lara says. “The gooey, sappy feeling, like at the beginning of good relationships.” The balls of her cheeks begin to flush, but only very discreetly. “I just hope those magical sparks can evolve into something more.” She looks down at her lap, and her voice drops an octave. “I’m ready for a lasting relationship, girls. Ready for that something more. I’m always on the unlucky side of love, I swear.” She looks up and leans back into her seat with a sigh.

  “But you can have that gooey feeling still,” I say, feeling my upper lip curl just slightly. “I mean, come on girls. You’re telling me you just settle for the end of the fun and the thrill and the excitement? The sparks?”

  “It’s not settling,” Robin says insistently.

  “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “No,” Emily says. “It’s new love turning into…” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “I guess forever love. Sounds cheesy, huh?”

  “Not everyday’s a honeymoon,” Robin says, “but that doesn’t mean you love each other any less. In fact, I think it might even mean you love each other more.”

  “If you’re expecting fireworks in your relationship every day of your life, then, well…” Emily says, and frowns a little. “I think you’re setting yourself up for failure and disappointment. Life’s what you make of it, and so is love, relationships. Hell, make fireworks every day, in any way, but don’t expect to be riding Cloud Nine all the time.”

  In an unaware way Emily plays with her thick collection of bracelets and cuffs, and her eyes are searching the room as she speaks. “I mean, if we were always happy, then happiness wouldn’t really exist, you know?” Her brow furrows slightly. “Or at the very least it wouldn’t be anything special. It’d be that constant emotion, with nothing to contrast it, and if that was all we felt, we’d never really know what happiness felt like.” She looks me in the eyes, imploringly. “You know?”

  “Because there isn’t any juxtaposition,” Lara adds in.

  “Exactly!” Emily snaps her fingers. “And happiness is just a state of mind, after all. There’s so much more to life and love than selfish, personal happiness.”

  “Totally,” Robin says. “Don’t get me wrong, being happy in love is great, but there’s more to it.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed with the walk down Philosophical Lane. Really, can’t a girl just be honest and bitch about her relationship with her husband? Can’t she say she wants to chase that excitement and passion, and that’s how she wants to live her life? What’s so wrong with that?

  ***

  “I know I’m going to be far away,” Emily says later that night after all the girls have gone home. Having a last get-together before Emily and Gatz leave for Australia tomorrow was as bittersweet a moment as they come. “
I know I’m going to be busy and chatting won’t be as easy as it is now.”

  I spread out the fleece blanket I’ve been using during the warm summer evenings onto the sofa-turned-bed. “I know,” I say.

  “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Jackie. I’m torn leaving right now, you know?”

  I fluff my pillow and toss it at the head of the sofa as Emily tosses the second one—the “Andrew body” I’ve come to call it.

  “I’m excited about my trip,” she says, “and getting to travel with Gatz. It’s a total dream. I’m looking forward to getting to do some volunteer work for the blind…and getting to help those troubled teens in the after-school program and… Oh, it’s going to be amazing!” She looks completely smitten.

  “But,” she says as she sets down my “Andrew body pillow.” “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about you, Jackie.” She takes a seat on the edge of the sofa. “I’m leaving at a vulnerable time for you right now, and I’m not happy about that. I have the confidence you’ll pull through, but it doesn’t erase the worry.”

  “I’ve been in worse ruts,” I say encouragingly, also taking a seat.

  “But not with Andrew.”

  “Yes, not with Andrew. You’re right.”

  “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

  I chuckle quietly. “It’s me, myself, and I with me, Em. I’ll take care of myself.”

  She shrugs one arm, her head cocking to the side in agreement.

  “I’ll be fine,” I insist. “I’ll get through this. I don’t know how, but somehow I’ll manage.”

  “Call the girls, Dr. Pierce, me, email me, even call Andrew!”

  I laugh loudly.

  “I’m serious,” she says. “You contact whoever you need to if you’re in a really low place, okay? I probably won’t be able to be in touch as often as I’d like, but there are plenty of people here for you. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I lie down on my side, propping my head under one hand.