When Girlfriends Let Go

by Savannah Page

  While I was picking up the Mod Podge, I found a bin of deeply discounted knickknacks, including some miniature luggage pieces with Bon Voyage etched on them; a nicked lamp that matches the antique, time-worn color scheme I have planned; some chipped vases; and even an old-school, 1950s-era airplane about the size of a shoe, made completely out of wire.

  The following morning, with everything I can think of (and afford) stacked up in Emily’s cramped kitchen, I crank up the ancient CD player Emily’s had since college and begin my painting project. I start in the living room and work my way through the small dining room and on into the bedroom, running through CD after CD, none of which are from this century.

  Emily’s walls are a dirtied eggshell color that just need a little refresh, and taupe will do the trick. It’s understated and will work with anything, especially for the antique, Old World-style travel and geography theme I’ve got going.

  It’s difficult not to make it too kitschy with a bunch of knickknacks that, when on overkill, can look like a big pile of clutter. I think I’ve got a handle on it, though. If poring over endless magazines and blogs and even DIY-design TV shows counts for anything, surely Emily’s apartment will look spectacular when I’m done with it!

  In the middle of U2’s foot-stomping song “Pride,” I barely make out the ringer of my cell phone.

  “Just a minute!” I shout, dashing out of the bedroom and into the freshly painted living room, roller brush in hand. “Coming!”

  I’ve been expecting a call from Claire today, and I can’t miss it. Sophie told me at the café today over breakfast (because my refrigerator and cupboards are practically empty) that any time today Conner will find out if he got the job in LA. Spokane still hasn’t got in touch, and the Seattle position sadly said no flat out, so all of the cards are in the LA pot. If Conner’s offered the job, he and Claire are moving.

  I’m obviously conflicted. I know how horrible it can be needing a job and not being able to find one, especially for Conner, who’s looking for a real and serious career. The thought of Claire not being in Seattle, though!

  I take a fleeting look at the caller ID before I pick up. It’s Lara.

  “Have you heard anything yet?” I burst out with my greeting, hoping she’s gotten the news from Claire already.

  “Have you heard, that’s the question,” Lara says.

  “No, I haven’t heard. Have you? Come on, is it what we thought?”

  “Erm…what are you talking about, Jack?”

  “Claire!” I knit my brow in confusion. “Conner! Did he get the job in LA or not?”

  “Oh.”

  “He did, didn’t he?” I clap a hand to my forehead. “Oh, no…”

  “I don’t know about that,” she says. “I haven’t heard from Claire yet.”

  I exhale. “I’m on pins and needles!”

  “Well, if it’s bad news, then enjoy the prolonging of the news,” she says with a half-laugh.

  “Yeah.” I return to the bedroom and proceed with the last portion of my painting job. “So, wait.” I stop rolling the brush in the paint. “What’s with the ‘have you heard?’ business then?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I have some news I have to tell you. Brace yourself.”

  I don’t like her choice of words or her cautioning tone.

  “Oh no!” I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you and Worth break up?”

  “What? No.”

  “Well, not break up, break up.” I roll my eyes at how complicated it is with Lara. She’s still insisting that she and Worth are just seeing each other. No need to label anything just yet. “I mean like a falling out?” I clarify. “I know you’re not actually boyfriend-girlfriend, but—”

  “Oh, we are!” she says excitedly.

  “Since when?” I’m shocked.

  “I guess we made it official…if you want to get all cheesy. We talked about it this past weekend.”

  “I thought he was out of town?”

  “He is. But there’s still such a thing as telephones.”

  I smile, thinking how rarely Andrew would call me when out of town, and if so how it was usually just to say that he’d arrived safely.

  “Congratulations, Lara.” I drop the roller brush in the paint pan, neglecting it entirely now. I am genuinely happy for her, although a very small part of me wishes that I was the one with we’re-an-item news.

  “We were just talking,” Lara explains. “He made me jealous—he’s all lying on the beach and stuff when he’s not working…so unfair.”

  “Totally.” I slide open a window to get a fresh breeze going, as the paint fumes are growing thicker.

  “We were talking, and then somehow the topic veered to our status, and, well… It is what it is. I’ve got myself a boyfriend.” She lets out a slight squeal of delight.

  “That’s great, Lara. So that’s the big news, eh? Definitely worth call—”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Worth’s out of town.”

  “Yes.”

  “With Andrew.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And guess who’s no longer in Seattle?”

  I consider the possibilities for a second, when suddenly it dawns on me. “No!” I gasp. “She isn’t?” That skanky Bitch Nikki cannot be in LA with Andrew! That’s impossible!

  “That’s right,” Lara says. “Nikki’s relocated to the East Coast. New York. Can you believe it?”

  “Wait, huh?” I rub the side of my head, totally vexed and confused. “We’re talking Nikki, right? Bitch Nikki?”

  “The one and only,” Lara sings. I love the way she rallies to my cause. Having only known my side of the story, and not knowing Nikki at all, she’s there like a supportive BFF agreeing that Nikki is no ordinary woman. She’s Nikki with a capital ‘B.’

  Her delivery of the news, though, is poorly executed.

  “W-w-wait a minute,” I stammer. “Nikki? Andrew’s stupid secretary, Nikki?”

  “Yup.”

  “She’s not in Seattle?”

  “Nope.”

  “And she’s not in LA?”

  “God, no.” Lara sounds like her face is drawn up into a twist. “Where’d you go and get that idea?”

  “Uhh, let’s see. ‘Guess who’s not in Kansas anymore, Jackie?’” I use a valley-girl voice. “You make it sound like she’s not here but over there, with Andrew and Worth and the beaches and—”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re right,” she rushes out. “Eek. So, sorry, Jack. My bad.”

  “Who cares now!” I cry. “This is awesome! Awesome!”

  “I know, right?”

  “Okay, dish, dish. What the hell happened?”

  Once I realized there was no need to pull out what little hair I have on my head, and once I realized I didn’t need to give in to the toxic paint fumes and die a lonely death, paralyzed by the confirmation that my husband was shacking up with the world’s biggest bimbo, I got back to my painting. I gave Em’s bedroom walls the dazzle they needed, being super productive and multi-tasking, too. I gossiped like the best of gossip queens with the cell phone on speaker as I painted.

  So this is how it went down. Turns out Worth needed something from Andrew’s office for their business deal and called up the secretary’s line, assuming Nikki would take the call. When an unfamiliar voice answered, Worth asked Andrew what happened to Nikki. Andrew told him—all nonchalantly, Worth had told Lara—that there was a better job opportunity for her with a firm Jennings & Voigt used to do a lot of business with, over in New York. So he gave a reference and off she went on her merry little way.

  I honestly can’t believe it! Andrew’s wretched secretary is actually gone? Not just out of his office, no longer working for him, but out of the city…the state! Clear across the country, even!

  “So you know what this means, don’t you?” Lara says.

  “Yeah! The Wicked Witch of the West is movin’ to the East Side!”

  “More
than that. It means Andrew’s definitely not having an affair with her.”

  “Erm…what makes you say that?”

  I admit, her theory is exciting and I so want to believe it, but why does she think this?

  “Here’s how I see it. Follow me.” Lara sounds exuberant, almost as if she’s putting together the pieces of the He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not puzzle of her own love life. “There’s no way she’s having an affair with him. Andrew’s the one who was used as a reference for the New York position, and Worth says he even pulled a few strings to get the deal made. There is no way in hell a man who’s having an affair would sweep the mistress right out from under him and send her thousands of miles away.”

  “You paint a horribly vivid picture,” I say in a teasing tone.

  “Seriously. Hear me out. You know that is not the action of a man with a mistress.”

  “Unless…” I say, giving Negative Nancy her soapbox. “…If they had a fight and couldn’t be around each other anymore…or what if she was two-timing him!” Oh, the possibilities suddenly seem manifold!

  “Or!” I add loudly. “Yeah! That’s it! They fight, they can’t possibly work together anymore, so he gets rid of her. Or he’s jealous and angry about her two-timing him, so he sends her away. Or—”

  “Jackie,” Lara cuts me off, her voice sharp, severe. “You’re being ridiculous. Listen to yourself. Don’t you see? This is simpler than you’re making it out to be.”

  “How so?”

  “You guys have been separated for a long time. Too long. There’s still no divorce lawyer, there’s lots of time for him to dwell on your marriage, enough time for him to realize he can’t live without you and misses you like crazy.” She stops herself. “Men take a while to realize these things sometimes; it’s a defect in their genetic make-up. I’m trying to get used to it.”

  We share a laugh, then I say, “Okay, so this theory of yours…”

  “It’s not a theory,” she states. “I think it’s fact. Andrew’s realized he can’t live without you, so he does the best thing he can do to make amends—aside from knocking on your door and carrying you away.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say with a heavy roll of my eyes. “Now we’re not theorizing! God, we’ve moved way past theorizing and now we’re fantasizing!”

  “Think about it! I know I’m kind of on Cloud Nine right now what with Worth and I being a couple and all, but think about it! I bet you anything Andrew will be calling you or knocking on your door in one, two, three days tops.”

  “You think?” A flurry of glee begins to spread throughout my body. I’m unable to mask my smile.

  “I really think so, and I don’t think it’s just the Cloud Nine high talking. I really think, especially since you have yet to hear from a divorce lawyer, that things are going to turn around. You told him you wanted Nikki gone.”

  “Yeah, well, he was pretty adamant about not letting her go.” My flurry of glee starts to be quelled ever so slightly. “That’s why I don’t understand why he decided to get rid of her all of a sudden. You know?”

  “You were adamant about having the world take care of you. Now look at you! Miss self-sufficient. Things change, babe.”

  She has a point. Maybe not the best seeing how I’m barely self-sufficient, especially with a job about to come to a close, but she makes a point, nevertheless.

  “Listen,” she goes on, “I have got to get back to work, but I just had to share this news with you. I really think it’s positive, and, hell, if anything it should be pretty darn good confirmation that your husband is not having an affair.”

  “That’s one possibility.”

  “The only one. I love ya. I’ve got to go.”

  When we disconnect I force Negative Nancy away, as hard as she tries to stand in front of me and shout out all of the wretched possibilities. I force myself to consider Lara’s theory…perhaps Lara’s facts.

  As I pick up the brush and continue my painting, letting the actual possibility of a rekindling of a relationship with Andrew sink in, I begin to feel the glee return.

  I turn up the volume of the CD, the infectious and upbeat song “Sweetest Thing” reverberating throughout the room. And I think, as the paint makes its way around the apartment, that today is shaping up to be a pretty fab day. I knew it’d be a good day, but I had no idea it could be this good!

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  As is so often the case, I spoke too soon. I was having a grand time finishing up the painting when Claire called with the news. LA had called, and Conner didn’t get the job. Spokane had called back, too, and he had gotten the job.

  It was the most bittersweet moment I’d felt in a long time. It surpassed the bittersweet feeling of getting the final word that I was going to be let go at Hodge’s Bookstore by the end of the week.

  I hate to leave behind the brief yet enjoyable time I’ve had at the bookstore—leave behind the easy chats with Tom and the jokes and laughs, leave behind the place that took a chance on a girl in need with a pathetic excuse of a résumé, a place that’s helped me through a rough time.

  While I hate to leave all that behind, Claire’s news is the bittersweet kind you wish with your whole body and soul never happened. I know it’s probably unfathomable that six best girlfriends could really all stay in the same college town all these years. Most girlfriends are lucky if they have any time at all together once they graduate. Usually careers are found in other cities, opportunities take some out of state.

  Rarely do you meet six close friends who all have the fortune of living a few blocks or a few miles away from one another. Even with sails-in-the-wind Emily with her wanderlust, she’s still got her roots planted in her college town.

  Claire says Conner’s new job starts October first, and they’ll be moving mid-September. I had to do a doubletake at the calendar when Claire told me this. I realized that’s only two, maybe three weeks away. Through shared tears she said they didn’t want to move so soon, or at all, obviously, but they need to search for housing and get settled and, well, as she babbled my mind kind of started to wander.

  I don’t like change very much, least of all the kind that means you’re short a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a supportive hand, someone with whom to gossip and laugh, to share goofy stories and just swing by a certain café for a cup of tea and a cupcake.

  With just a short time left before Claire would be packing up her bags, I realized I now have an even shorter amount of time to put together that girls’ night I promised Lara.

  Emily’s apartment is nearly finished. I’ve spent most of the afternoon refurbishing frames and rifling through Emily’s box of random photographs. Robin had brought back the originals of some of the African photos she had borrowed for use at the publishing house as she works on Emily’s photography book. Seeing the photos lying there on the dining table I immediately knew I wanted to hang up that fabulous black and white photograph of the two young children smiling.

  I filled the rest of the dozen or so frames with some more photos of Emily’s travels—Europe, Asia, more of Africa, and a really gorgeous one she took of the ice sheets in Patagonia. Then I framed one of her and Gatz, taken over at Gas Works Park one blue-skied spring day in Seattle. I found a couple of the two of us from right when she got back from Ghana the second time around. We were at a club and both of us looked like anything but half our best.

  I rifled about some more through a box labeled Misc. Photos and stumbled upon some old college ones. I laughed out loud when I found one from my sophomore year when we first met. God, what was I thinking with that hideous nose ring? And what was Emily thinking with that purple hair? I laughed a second time when I recalled that she had purple hair, yet again, not that long ago.

  Then, as I’m about to put away the box and pore through a photo album, I find the perfect photo I’ve been looking to insert into the last empty frame. It was taken nearly ten years ago, when all six of us girls were college kids. We were at Bumbershoot, this big arts and c
ultural festival that happens once a year at Seattle Center, and we had had a ton of fun that day. All of us were wearing broad smiles, arms around each other’s waists or shoulders.

  I can picture the moment right now. I can smell the funnel cakes; I can hear the folk music blend in with the rock music; and I can feel Emily’s arm squeeze my waist tightly, Lara’s hand hanging lazily and warmly over my shoulder, her head resting against mine. I can even hear Emily say her usual, “Cheeeese,” as she does when a goofy photo’s being taken of her. More than anything, though, I can feel the sheer joy I remember being filled with that day—the comfort in knowing that I had five of the best girlfriends a girl could ever ask for.

  I walk over to the empty frame and slip this photo inside, smoothing back the bent upper right corner and never minding the few wrinkles that time’s given the photo. I flip the frame over before tightening the backing and I smile—that same goofy grin I’m wearing in the picture.

  “Right where you belong,” I say, admiring the photo, holding it out.

  I look at Claire’s bright-eyed and rosey-cheeked smile, the side of her head pressed tightly to Sophie’s, her hand clenching Robin’s arm. “Right where you belong.”

  ***

  The apartment redecoration is complete, and girls’ night is here! I had a great last day at the bookstore, and Tom and Shirley were so sweet. They made me a cake and gave me a goodbye gift: the rest of the vintage Vogues! I was happy it wasn’t a blubbery, sentimental last day. I wasn’t up for that. I just wanted to thank the Hodges for taking a chance on me and helping me out when I needed it most. The bookstore is going to be in better hands with tenacious William, and I’ll be all right. I’ll find something else to keep me busy and fill my pockets. As Emily always says, “When one door closes, a window opens.” Or something like that.

  Besides, until I find that next job I know Lara will have my back if I really need the help. Although, I’m curious to see how long I can go before I bring myself to ask her. I’m sure I’ll have a new job in no time…or maybe, just maybe, Lara’s theory about Andrew will come true, and then I won’t have to worry about finding a new job!