When Girlfriends Let Go

by Savannah Page

  “Understand?” Her eyes grow round. “Sorry, but I don’t understand. And I can’t help you here.”

  “So you’re just going to, what?” I spit. “Keep on seeing him? No matter how much it hurts me?”

  “My relationship with Worth isn’t about you, Jackie. Get over it. Get over yourself!”

  “It is about me!” My volume is raised again, my blood pressure beginning to join it. “You’re sleeping with a guy who—”

  “A guy who has nothing to do with your screwed up marriage!”

  I wince. “Some friend you are.”

  “No.” Lara claps both hands against her bare legs. “No! Don’t turn this around, Jackie. Some friend you are to come and tell me to sacrifice my happiness because you’re, what? Upset that I’m happy and you’re not? That I’m in a good place right now and you’re, for once in your picture-perfect richie, spoiled life not?”

  “For once?” I gasp in bewilderment. “For once? You know the life I’ve led, Lara. You know the shit I’ve seen, the hell I’ve gone through! Don’t make me out to be a spoiled princess all my life!”

  “Fine, fair enough.” She holds up a hand. “A spoiled little brat for the past couple years, then. That sound fair? That sound about right?” She stands. “I’m sorry you’re having a difficult time and I’m sorry things aren’t shaping up sooner. Maybe if you start putting your best foot forward and actually act like an adult things will start to look rosier sooner!”

  “Look, I came to say what I came to say, and obviously you’re not taking it well.” I pick up my handbag. “So much for honesty.”

  “No. You’re not going to come over here, threaten me, and turn this into some self-deprecation gimmick. Uh-uh.”

  “If you’re only going to insult me and tell me how greeeat it is to be with Worth, backstabbing me, then I’m out of here!”

  “You’re jealous, aren’t you, Jackie?” Her voice is low, collected, on the edge of reservation. “Jealous of me and Worth?”

  I hate that word. Jealousy sounds as evil and gnawing as it is. But Lara’s right: I want what she has right now.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I have nothing and you have it all. I’m jealous.”

  “You don’t have nothing, Jackie.” She takes a step closer to me. “You have me, the girls.” She gently touches my arm. “And things with Andrew may still turn out. That whole Nikki thing may just be—”

  “No,” I stop her mid-sentence. “No, I don’t have Andrew. He’s left me.” Tears instantly spring forth. “I don’t really even have you or the girls. Not really.”

  “What?”

  “Not really, when you look at history and how everyone else was catered to when they had their breakdown moments over the years.”

  “What are you talking about?” She backs up, hands on her hips.

  “Look!” I cry, wiping away some tears with the back of my hand. “Robin gets knocked up, and you come rushing to be her savior. She moves in with you,” I sweep my hand around the room, “she practically replaces me as your best friend—”

  “Oh, Jackie.”

  “Then Claire. She’s got the drama with her big ol’ wedding and the whole world comes rushing to her aid! Bridezilla gets all the help from her bridesmaids, even your own mother comes in to help!”

  “Jackie.”

  “Emily needs to find true love. Let’s play blind date! Let’s all pitch in to make her life better!” I feel my gut churn sharply at this one a bit, hating thinking negatively about Emily. “Okay, so maybe it’s not the same, but still! Everyone was onboard to pitch in to help her. Then we’ve got Sophie!” I wave my hands about dramatically. “The things we all do for that girl with her damn café! And then you! You! You shack up with a married man!” The little color that’s in Lara’s face begins to fade. “You go and do the most whorish thing a girl could do and you steal a married man away from his wife. And we all rush to support your sorry ass!”

  “I didn’t steal anyone, Jackie. You take that back!”

  “No! I won’t take back anything I said! It’s true. All you girls are kissy-kissy with each other, and when it comes to pathetic Jackie—wrong side of the tracks Jackie or slutty party girl Jackie—it’s, ‘We’d love to help, but we’re just too busy.’ Or it’s, ‘Grow up and, oh, I guess you’re just getting what you deserve.’”

  “No one’s ever said that!”

  “You don’t have to. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Then you’re judgment’s way off. In fact, if that’s what your instinct is really telling you, then you’re probably all wrong about Andrew. There’s no affair. You’re just creating drama because you need it. You have nothing in life right now, and you need something to bitch about!”

  “Take that back!”

  “No! In fact,” Lara purses her lips, “I will take something back.”

  “Seeing Worth. You’ll stop that?”

  She juts out her bottom lip. “Uh-uh.” She takes a step nearer and looks me squarely in the eyes. “I take back that part about Andrew and taking his side.”

  I gasp in horror. “You wouldn’t?”

  “I would never take the side of the man who was cheating on you,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “But I would take the side of the man who decided he’d had enough with a spoiled, selfish, immature brat who didn’t know what she had until it was taken away. You want to know why Andrew left?” She steps even closer. “You want the answer that’ll help with those sleepless nights, wondering why your marriage is down the drain? It’s you, Jackie. You drove him away.”

  “Screw you.” I throw my handbag over my shoulder and charge for the door.

  “Let me guess,” she says in that same calm and unnerving voice. “This is how it all played out last time you saw him?”

  “I came here to be honest with you, Lara!” I shout, my hand gripping the doorknob tightly.

  “And I’m only being honest with you, Jackie.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Sometimes the truth hurts.”

  I yank open the door and am greeted with a stiflingly warm air. “Yeah, yeah. Trying to take the moral high ground. Steer the lost friend onto the right path, tell me I’m destructive. Why? Because you’re sooo good at making choices?”

  “Because I’m not!” she shouts back. “Because I know what it’s like to make rash judgments and choices—to be totally blinded by irrational emotions that you ruin the good and meaningful relationships in your life. We’re all trying to help you, Jackie. All us girls.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Have you ever thought for a moment that love and support and help come in different forms, for different people, different situations?”

  “Spare me the psychobabble bullshit, Lara, please.” I hold up a hand and step outside. “And if you’re referring to the money you give me, don’t worry! I won’t be back asking for more.”

  “I won’t be giving you any more. I’m at fault, too, Jack. I’ve been feeding this behavior by giving you a hand out left and right all these years.” She sighs. “But not anymore. Now it’s time to set things straight and for good. I haven’t been doing you any favors whatsoever.”

  “Whatever.” I throw up my hands. “I won’t be a burden to you anymore.”

  “You were never a burden!” She strides up to me quickly and I take a step back. “That’s the thing. You just don’t get it! You don’t see it! Wake up, will you?”

  “I don’t get what, Lara? That I’m a hopeless mess? That, uh, I don’t know how difficult marriage can be? That I don’t know what it’s like to fall on hard times? That I don’t know what it’s like to have parents who couldn’t give a crap about you? Who resent you ever being born?” The hot tears return. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to barely skid by in school? To be made the talk of the sorority house, the campus slut? That I don’t know what it’s like to worry every single day that her friends are going to abandon her like her husband because she’s so fucking damaged? You th
ink I don’t know what it’s like to have someone who promised, forever and always, to be there for you to just up leave? To give up, let go, move on, and leave?!”

  I’m wailing, my vision completely blurred by the flood of tears. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel alone and empty and like a total failure…a failure no one loves, locked out…”

  Suddenly Lara envelopes me in the tightest of embraces, her face buried in my neck. “Shhh, Jackie. Don’t say these things. Don’t.” She rubs my back and tries to soothe me.

  “I hurt so bad, Lara,” I cry and murmur, and with each sob she pulls me tight, with each wail she whispers that everything will be okay, and then when the tears have stopped and the pain feels like it’s carved a hollow notch in my stomach, I try to compose myself and tell Lara I have to go.

  “Jackie, forgive me,” Lara says. “I—”

  But I don’t let her finish. I hold up a hand, sniffle, and begin my walk back to my car. “You’re not the one who needs to ask to be forgiven, Lara.”

  “Jackie. Jackie wait.”

  I look at her once more before I walk off towards my car. “I need to go now, Lara.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be fine. Honest. I just really need to go now.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  I rub my temples, futile efforts at getting rid of the pain that’s still there thanks to the tequila shooters and the fifth dirty martini—the bar’s tempting and evil deal of One Free After Four.

  “You feeling all right?” Dr. Pierce queries, probably knowing exactly why I’m struck ill with the world’s worst headache.

  “I went out last night,” I admit, ashamed. “Got tanked.”

  Dr. Pierce breaks out his leather bound notebook and pen and tells me to explain why I felt the need to go out on a Wednesday night instead of working on the job search. He asks if I was trying to run from my depression or numb the pain. He hasn’t heard the half of it yet.

  “Oh, Doc,” I groan miserably.

  “I don’t like you mixing heavy drinking with your prescription.”

  “Oh, I don’t take my Prozac when I go out.”

  He scratches at the bridge of his nose. “Jackie, the prescription doesn’t work like that. It stays in your system, it’s routine, and we’re talking an anti-depressant paired with a depressant.”

  “Oh, please,” I lean back into the chaise. “I beg to differ. Alcohol makes you feel good.”

  “Then brings you crashing down.”

  “So you’re saying people on Prozac can never,” I scrunch my brow, “drink? Ever?”

  “No, but we’re talking anti-depressants with a heavy amount of depressants. Binge drinking, Jackie.”

  “Doc, honestly, I’ve been limiting myself. One drink, two max for social occasions. Impressive, eh?” I flash him a toothy grin, but instantly, as my cheeks tighten, my head starts to throb heavily. “Ohhh,” I moan. I massage my temples some more.

  “Two? Max?” he asks, straightforward.

  “Okay, okay. And the rare instance when I have way past my two-drink max. Rare!”

  “Why’d you go out?” he presses. “Did you want to go out and drink? Did you feel like you needed to? What was the reason?”

  “Doc, sometimes a girl just needs to get out and party, you know?” I glance at him and he’s sitting there upright, pen in hand, the notebook balanced atop his knee, legs crossed. “Don’t you ever get out of your shell and have a bit of fun?”

  “Please answer the question, Jackie.”

  “Ugh. Yes, I wanted to go out. Did I think I’d get tanked?” I pause to ponder the question. It’s so obvious it’s almost comical. Okay, it’s far from comical. It’s downright sad, depressing as hell, and I hate to admit it.

  But I do.

  “I had a fight with Lara,” I admit. “With one of my best friends.”

  “Okay,” Dr. Pierce says, sitting up taller in his seat, “now we’re getting somewhere. What was the fight about?”

  I try my best to regurgitate the awful events of the night before last. I explained Lara’s side, my side, the clash, and how rotten it made me feel afterwards. Lara had texted me not long after I’d gotten home after the fight, asking if I was positive I would be okay alone. She’d texted twice the following day, too, and once this morning, today’s text saying that she would like to see me and talk…whenever I’m ready. I’m just not ready yet. I don’t even know where to start.

  “So why do you think you went out?” Dr. Pierce asks. “Was it an attempt to stamp out the pain after the fight with Lara?” He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “And why not that same night, right after the fight? Why wait a day?”

  “I thought I’d try to sleep it off,” I reply plaintively.

  “Good move.” He writes in his notebook.

  “But when I woke up the next morning, I felt just as bad. Worse, even.”

  “And that’s when you hit the bars?”

  “Three o’clock, Doc. Three frickin’ o’clock.” Massaging one temple, I shake my head ashamedly. “Pathetic, isn’t it? Started at three and went on for…I don’t know how long. Past midnight?”

  “So where do you think you went wrong?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said earlier in the session you feel sorry about what happened, feel badly. What move instigated this feeling? Where did you go wrong?”

  I blow out a puff of air. “Oh, let’s see, I don’t know.” I clap my hands. “Going over to Lara’s to begin with!”

  “Really?”

  I give it a second thought. “No. No, not really…”

  I cast my eyes to my lap and fold my hands. I wait in silence.

  When Dr. Pierce doesn’t speak, I finally continue. “I had something to say to her…and I had to say it.” I suck in a deep breath. “It hurt like hell, and then I said a bunch of horrible things afterwards,” I blurt out rapidly. “Things I didn’t really mean, Doctor.”

  “Okay.”

  “I never should have gone out drinking, to the bars, the club.”

  “The club?”

  “Oh yes. The club.”

  “And?”

  “And I need to find better ways to cope with my anger…my depression…my frustration…” I look him in the eyes when he pauses his writing. “My loneliness.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk about what you said to Lara.”

  “I don’t want to rehash it all. Please.”

  He waves one hand. “No, no. No word-for-word revisiting here. You told her you were jealous of the relationship she has with your husband’s coworker…”

  I sink down into the chaise, head propped on one end, high-heeled feet on the other. I slip one arm under my head and shut my eyes as I reply with despondency, “The big green monster, yup.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “Why do you think, Doc? Do we always have to play Twenty Questions where I’m always the contestant?”

  “You come to me for therapy, Jackie,” he says pensively. “I’ll ask the questions.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s because…” I wriggle my lips from side to side, pondering the question, the possibilities…

  Unable—or unwilling—to come up with anything, I meet Dr. Pierce’s gaze. Perhaps he’ll say something in this widening silence.

  Not a thing.

  “Okay,” I say at last. “I don’t know. M-m-maybe because Lara’s happy…and I’m not.”

  “All right.”

  “She’s having a successful relationship and I’m not.”

  “Okay.”

  “I guess I could go on and on about how jealous I am, but then I guess you can break out the Kleenex, let me feel all down on myself again.” I roughly cross my arms over my chest.

  “Here’s a thought. Let’s shift this for a second.” He sets his notebook aside. “You have other friends than Lara, yes?” He snaps his fingers. “Emily…” Racking his brain. “Claire…”

  I fill him in on the rest of the girls.


  “All right,” he says, “you have all these other friends, all of whom are in relationships, yes?”

  “Eh, mostly,” I say, thinking about poor Sophie. “One of them who isn’t, but she could if she weren’t so hung up on her business.”

  “Okay, let’s look at this.” Dr. Pierce leans forward, arms on thighs. “You have other friends in relationships, and are you jealous of them?”

  I wince. “No. I mean, I may get pissed that Robin spends most of her time with her husband and kids, or that Claire’s married, which means she has to make compromises, possibly move away because of her husband, but…no.” I wince some more. “No, I’m not jealous of them. Not like I feel with Lara, Doctor. Not at all.”

  “So then is it Lara, or is it the man she’s with?”

  “I told you I don’t like that Worth works with Andrew. That’s no new revelation.”

  “And why do you think it bothers you so much that your best friend is dating the man who works with your husband?”

  “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying?” I’m becoming irritated. How much do I—erm, Andrew—pay this guy?

  “Jackie, please answer the question.”

  “Ugh! Because it’s like Lara condones Andrew’s cheating.” I shoot upright in the chaise.

  “His alleged cheating.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I roll my eyes. “It’s like she condones him leaving me. Like she’s taking his side. I mean, say Andrew and I do divorce. How awkward will that be, then? Right?”

  “I think you’re blowing this out of proportion, Jackie.” Dr. Pierce hunkers further down, elbows digging into his legs.

  “Enlighten me, please, Doc.”

  “You took Lara’s experience of infidelity and self-manifested it, if you will.”

  “And I’m probably spot-on with that, right?”