by Ronica Black
But Janice wouldn’t hold her gaze and she wouldn’t say anything other than how this was all happening so fast.
“You should go now, Maurine,” Carla said. “You barging in here like this has caused a lot of chaos. We all need some time to cool down.”
Maurine didn’t seem to take her request lightly. “I’ll leave. But I’m not the one who should be going. You’re the one who should go. Go back to Phoenix where you belong. And get the fuck out of here before you cause any more trouble.”
“You get the fuck out, Maurine,” Carla said. “You weren’t invited.”
“Carla!” Janice said.
Maurine looked to Janice. “You’re going to let her kick me out of your house? Fine. I was leaving anyway. I’ve seen enough to make me sick for several lifetimes.”
She turned and stalked out of the bedroom. Janice jumped from the bed and gave chase, bedsheet clutched to her chest, trailing along behind her.
“Maurine, wait. Mo, don’t go, Mo!”
Carla could hear them talking but she couldn’t make out what was being said. She quickly dressed, anger still boiling in her belly. The nerve. The fucking nerve of Maurine to march in there with her assumptions and accusations and then insist that she’s the one who really knows how Janice feels.
Who does she think she is?
Deep down she knew why Maurine was behaving the way she was. She was scared. Shocked and scared. She’d already felt threatened by Janice and Carla’s friendship, as if that would somehow diminish the close friendship she and Janice had, and then she walks in on this. She must be beyond terrified of losing Janice now. From her viewpoint, she’d just been horribly betrayed.
Even so, she shouldn’t have reacted like she did.
But honestly, Carla knew she’d reacted rather poorly herself with some of the things she’d said.
She sat at the foot of the bed and slipped on her shoes. She buried her head in her hands, trying to fend off an impending headache and heard the front door slam. A few seconds later, she heard a car peel out. When she looked up Janice was standing in the room, eyes and cheeks red and wet with tears.
Carla tried to go to her, but Janice held out her hand, stopping her.
“No, Carla. No. Just—”
“Just what?” She took another step. Janice moved away. “Janice.”
“No. You’ve done enough.”
“Me? What the hell did I do? I just reacted, Janice. I was just as thrown as you were.”
“You told her to get the fuck out of my house for one thing.”
“I was standing up for us, Janice. She was insulting and attacking us.”
“I don’t need protecting, Carla. And she wasn’t attacking me.”
“Oh, she wasn’t, was she? Telling us both how it is you feel isn’t insulting? Accusing me of seducing you like I had some sort of sinister plot, like you are some kind of stupid and naive and helpless little woman isn’t insulting? She was seriously out of line, Janice. And I did what needed to be done. I stood up for us.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need you to. I don’t want you too.”
What?
Carla held up her palms. “Okay, don’t worry, I won’t. You want to continue to stand in silence and let someone else tell you who you truly are, then you go ahead. I, however, will not. I refuse. And I thought you—I thought you were strong enough to refuse too.”
“Well, I guess I’m not, Carla. Okay? I guess I’m not strong and brave and willing to face off with my lifelong best friend when she’s obviously shocked and overwhelmed and confused.”
“She was shocked, yes. But she wasn’t confused. She saw. She knew. She understood. She just refused to accept it. And that’s her problem, not ours.”
“No, it’s my problem, Carla. Not ours. Mine. You’ve had years to come to terms with who you are and the freedom to do so in your own time and way. Me—I’m—this is new and I’m here, surrounded by everyone I’ve ever known and loved and they don’t get this. I don’t have the luxury of being three thousand miles away to give a damn whether or not they do or ever will.”
“What are you saying?”
She shook her head. “I’m saying I’m not like you. I can’t just blurt out how I feel. I can’t just come out.”
“You can, Janice, but you won’t. And that’s been the issue all along, hasn’t it? That’s why you fought your feelings so hard and tried to keep them hidden. But you couldn’t, could you? Because they were eating you alive inside. And my being here, being so close only made it worse, didn’t it? Now I wonder, though, had I not felt for you and been so inquisitive, would you ever have let any of this out? Or would you have continued on with your big secret, living a loveless, passionless life, just like you did with your husband?”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s the truth though, isn’t it? If I’m wrong, tell me.”
“Sometimes the truth needs to be brought to light carefully, considerately. Not shoved in someone’s face. Especially when it might hurt them.”
“You’re referring to Maurine, once again dancing around yourself. But what about you, Janice? What about your pain? Why does your hurting come second to everyone else’s?”
She looked away.
“When are you going to put your feelings first? Insist on your own happiness? Haven’t you waited long enough?” Carla stood before her. Reached out and gently touched her face. “Hiding who you are…it’s no way to live, Janice. I speak from experience.”
“It’s not that simple for me.”
“No, it’s not easy. But it beats the alternative. Wouldn’t you rather face your fears and come out the other side to live in happiness, instead of letting those fears win out and keep you in misery?”
“Of course. I want happiness. I want you—I just—don’t think I can have it.”
“Why? Because you’re scared?”
She looked at her. “Yes, because I’m scared. And because you—”
Carla waited. “Because I what?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just think what you want.”
“Are you really that scared and worried about everyone’s reaction or are you using it as an excuse to avoid having to admit to and accept the truth yourself?”
“That was mean, Carla.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. It just seems to be very difficult for you to admit your feelings. And even more difficult for you to act on them.”
“You don’t know,” she said. “You don’t know me.”
“Janice, I’ve seen it. Think about how hard it was for you to confess your feelings for me? To even act on them? You fought it like hell, even when it was plainly obvious, and I tried my very best to make you feel comfortable enough to do so. Jesus, Janice, I had to literally grab you and kiss you before you would admit it. To me, and I think, to yourself. Because having the feelings is one thing. You can hide them and keep them to yourself. But admitting them and acting on them? That’s a whole other ball game isn’t it? Because you can’t take back words and actions. Once they’re out, they’re out. And that scares you.”
Janice was quiet and Carla felt helpless at the sadness and defeat that resonated from her. It broke her heart.
“What can I do?” she asked softly. “How can I help, Janice? I’ll do anything. Just, tell me. You want me to go talk to Maurine? Apologize for telling her to get out? I will.”
“No. No don’t do that. Just—”
“Yes?”
“I need to be alone.”
Carla felt her body deflate like the words had pierced her new little world of happiness. She questioned her, desperate for clarification. Desperate to hear that she didn’t really mean what Carla feared she meant. “For what, a few hours? I can do that. I can take the truck and—”
“No, Carla,” she said, staring into her with teary eyes. “Not for a few hours. Not for the day. For…for…”
Carla swa
llowed, the pain so sharp it was clawing at her throat as it tried to escape.
“Okay.” She dropped her hand and backed away. She didn’t know how, but her body somehow managed to make it to the doorway. She braced herself on the frame, growing weaker by the second. Still, she turned, needing to say one last thing before she dragged her tattered self from Janice and her home once and for all.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, her voice strained. “I would’ve continued to protect you. Not because you’re helpless, but because I—love you. Even though that scares the shit out of me to feel and to say. But I’m feeling it. And I am saying it. I love you. And when you love someone you stand by their side and do your very best to support and protect them. I would’ve done that, Janice. I would’ve fought like hell for you. For us. And I never would’ve stopped. I never would’ve regretted doing so. Not ever.”
She left her alone then and walked into the spare bedroom to pack her things. She heard Janice close her door and she was sure she heard what sounded like crying. But she didn’t try to go to her. Not even when her heart and head screamed at her to. Because she couldn’t do what she wanted. She had to do what Janice wanted.
And what Janice wanted, was for her to leave her alone.
Chapter Twenty-six
The doorbell rang for what seemed like the hundredth time the past week. But Janice didn’t jerk with alarm at the threat of intrusion like she had previously. Instead, she remained where she was, spread out like a sorry sack of rotten potatoes on her couch, staring absently at a muted television screen. She thumbed the remote and scrolled through the channel menu, searching for something, anything that would hold her interest, while knowing all the while that what she was really searching for, she’d never find on a television, in her home, or anywhere in North Carolina for that matter. No, what she was seeking, she’d already found. But, thanks to her, it was now three thousand miles away.
The doorbell rang again and then gave way to knocking. She heard Maurine calling out for her, but she remained where she was, unaffected. Maurine began to pound. Call louder. Janice continued to stare at the television, her heart rate barely pulsing, pushing her blood along at the bare minimum.
She didn’t even shift her gaze to the door when she heard Maurine insert the key and unlock the bolt. Nor did she when Maurine clamored inside, slammed the door behind her and stood at the end of the sofa with her hands on her hips and a pissed off look on her face.
“So, what, now you’re deaf as well as depressed? What in the Sam Hill is going on with you?”
Janice considered not answering. She really didn’t have the strength or the will. But she knew Maurine wouldn’t leave if she didn’t speak.
“Nothing,” she said. It was true. There was literally nothing going on in her world.
“Oh, kiss my ass, will ya?” She crossed to the coffee table and started collecting the remnants of food containers and dishes that had collected from the past several days. “And since when are you such a slob?”
Janice shrugged.
Maurine took an armload into the kitchen and made way too much noise than was necessary for the job at hand. She was upset. And for some reason she didn’t think Janice had noticed. So she was doing her best to make sure she heard it.
She marched back into the living room and continued straightening the table. She stacked the magazines, most of them issues of Arizona Highways and Desert Living that Janice had often perused through dreaming of a life in the southwest. That dream still tugged at her, something she couldn’t seem to get past. Only now, when she thumbed through those magazines and saw the pictures of the beautiful desert sunsets and landscapes and the homes nestled against mountains, she could do nothing but imagine Carla there, living in that palm-treed paradise, going on with her life without her. And that was just too much to bear.
Even so, when Maurine finished stacking the magazines and picked them up, Janice panicked.
“What are you doing?”
“I was just going to put them away.”
“No. Leave them.”
“But the table’s so cluttered.”
“Leave them.”
She frowned and returned them to the table. “You can’t possibly be looking at all of them,” she said under her breath.
“Actually, I can hardly stand to look at any of them anymore. But I want them there.”
“Fine.” She started in on the books and Janice sat up and snapped at her.
“Don’t touch the books.”
Startled, Maurine stared at her like a puppy that had just been admonished for the first time. “Okaay. You gonna tell me you can’t read them either but for some reason want them right where they are?”
“I read them,” she said defiantly.
“All of them?” There were nearly two dozen.
“Sometimes I’m in the mood for different things. I like having a choice.” What she really did was return to well-known sections and reread them, needing whatever particular emotion that individual book and section invoked. She used to do that to reexperience the excitement she’d felt at the buildup and eventual release of passion between the two main characters. But now, when she reread those well-worn pages, she was often brought to tears. Nevertheless, she kept returning to those books, desperate for the rekindling of what she’d felt with Carla, even if it clenched her heart and made her cry. To lose those books, even just the sight of them, made her feel like she would lose Carla and what they’d shared.
Maurine threw up her hands and sighed. She rounded the table to settle on the love seat. Janice almost bit into her for sitting there, in Carla’s spot, but she caught herself. Maurine didn’t seem to notice her unease.
“When’s the last time you cleaned?” She was glancing around, frowning once again.
Janice shrugged.
Maurine stood.
“What are you doing now?’ Janice asked, and not very politely.
“I’m going to dust and run the vacuum.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You heard me.”
“Janice, what is wrong?” She returned to her seat. “Are you still upset over the whole Carla thing?”
Janice flinched, unable to help it.
“I told you I didn’t tell no one. I never will. It’s over. You can forget about it.”
Janice closed her eyes. She prayed for strength to fight back the tears that were still so painfully close to the surface. For the strength not to tear into her best friend, who, though she meant well, was slicing up her insides with every word.
“Has Carla called? Is that what’s wrong? She’s bothering you?”
Oh God, why does she have to keep saying her name? Please, make it stop.
“No,” she croaked. “I haven’t heard from her.”
But that wasn’t completely true. She’d received a post card day before yesterday. On the front was a beautiful photograph of a desert landscape at night. Complete with silvery sand, deep, purple, serrated mountains, dark cacti and hundreds of stars against a midnight blue sky. On the back, written in the elegant script she knew to be Carla’s, were the words Every night sky I see, regardless of where I may be in the world, still makes me think of you. Love, The Stargazer.
She’d crumpled to the ground right there next to the mailbox after she’d read that and sobbed uncontrollably. And the sobbing had continued for the rest of that day and the next, sometimes racking her body so hard she cried not only in emotional anguish, but in physical pain. She’d sobbed until she could sob no more. Until there was nothing left inside. Nothing but empty space. And that emptiness, surprisingly, felt fucking wonderful.
But now Maurine was intruding upon it, forcing shit back inside her and stirring it all up, chasing away the numbness that had so mercifully accompanied the emptiness.
Damn her. Hasn’t she done enough?
“Good, I told her to leave you alone. The last thing you need is her—”
Janice leaned toward
her. “You did what?”
Maurine blinked at her. “I told her to leave you alone.”
“When?”
“When she came by on her way to the airport. She wanted to talk, but I didn’t want to, and I told her so. And I told her to leave you alone. That she’d done enough to upend your life and that if she cared about you at all, she’d leave you be.”
Janice pushed herself up and ran her nails through her scalp, trying, now extremely hard not to rage at her best friend. There had been times when Maurine had upset her growing up, times when she’d even hurt her feelings. But Janice had always kept her anger in check and eventually given her the benefit of the doubt and forgave. Lately, however, Maurine’s behavior had begun to bother her in a way she couldn’t brush off and forget about. Her immaturity and “icing out” of both her and Carla in recent weeks had gotten under her skin and festered like a splinter. Now, with her aggressive insertion into their relationship and her ignorant insistence that she knew what was best for her, that splinter might as well have been a log. A huge, jagged, bacteria-laden log, spreading its infection throughout her body from beneath her skin.
Janice couldn’t take it anymore.
This was going to end.
Now.
She was ready to cut off her own limb if need be to rid herself of the splinter.
“Anyway, she’s gone, back to Phoenix. So you can move on.” Maurine sat in silence, as if waiting for Janice to speak. When she didn’t, she slapped her thighs. “So, let’s get started. The first thing we need to do is get you in the shower and get you out of this house.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Janice said, her voice barely controlled and beginning to quiver.
“You’ve been holed up in here for days.”
“I’ve been out. I’ve driven around, gone to the store, spoken to people. And I don’t want to go out again.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s all still the same!” she said, unable to hold back any longer. “The landscape, the homes, the old buildings in town, the goddamned people who still think, say, and do the same goddamned things. It’s all the same and I’ve finally had my fill. I just can’t take it anymore.” It was how she’d been feeling for the past three years. It was why she’d taken such an interest in Arizona. It had also been the one other thing she hadn’t wanted to face. This was where she was born, where she grew up, where she lived and loved. So she didn’t understand why it no longer felt like home. Admitting that to herself caused so much guilt she’d fought it almost as much as she’d fought her feelings for Carla. Because to admit that this no longer felt like home, would mean somehow betraying the ones she loved.
