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"Youre the best friend a girl could have. "
They each drank two straight shots before another word was spoken. Finally, Meghann scooted back and leaned against the sofa. "So, kiddo, how the hell are you?"
Elizabeth sighed. "Its pathetic, Meg. For years, I dreamed of starting my life over, but now Im too alone. Im scared to death. What if Ive done the wrong thing? What if--"
"Everything youre going through is normal, believe me. Itll get better. "
"Tell me you can do better than fortune-cookie scribblings. "
"You dont normally want my advice. Im too harsh. "
"I know, but Im desperate now. What would you tell me if I were a client?"
"Get out your checkbook. "
"Very funny. Come on, help me. "
Meghann leaned toward her. "Id tell you that sometimes decisions are made too quickly. Youve loved Jack for a long time. "
"You mean go back to him. " Elizabeth had thought that herself, mostly at night when loneliness and fear crept into bed with her. She knew it would be easier to go back. But she was tired of taking the easy road. "It was like living in quicksand, Meg. I was getting pulled under; more and more of me was disappearing. I cant go back to that. "
"Tell me what happened. "
"In Tennessee I wrote him a letter. It just said I didnt want to move to New York, that I was going back to Oregon. "
"Just?"
Elizabeth ignored that. "When he got here, I told him I needed some time alone. Thats actually as far as I thought it through. "
"I take it Jack saw the big picture. "
"He used the word divorce. I hadnt even thought it. "
"Jesus, Birdie, what did you expect? Hes a man, for Gods sake. You abandoned him, refused to follow him. Its like ripping their balls off. "
"Unfortunately, I was unaware that his balls were the issue. I thought we were talking about our hearts. "
"With men, its always a dick thing. If I had a daughter, thats the real-world advice I would give her. "
"Reason enough to keep you taking your birth control pills. " She smiled, then sighed. "I guess I should have been prepared for his anger--hes always had a healthy ego--but I know he was unhappy, too. I figured he would welcome a little time apart. "
"He probably didnt think you meant it--the letter, I mean. And then, when he found out you were serious, he blew a gasket. Just because he said divorce doesnt mean he really wants one. "
"I know. So, give me some advice here, Meghann. I feel as if Im treading water in the deep end of the pool. I need your three-hundred-dollar-an-hour plan. "
Meghann took a sip of tequila, then said slowly, "Well, for a woman like you, I usually--"
"Like me?"
Meghann winced. "Great mother, decent income, no real work experience. "
"Oh, a woman like me. Go on. " Elizabeth decided on another shot.
"Anyway, usually I recommend finding a job. Its good for the self-esteem, not to mention the bank account. However, I drove through Echo Beach. "
Elizabeth tossed back the drink. "Yeah. Maybe the fish market needs someone to wipe up salmon guts. God knows I have enough cleaning experience. "
"I think you should cast your net a little farther. No pun intended. "
"Like Cannon Beach?"
Meghann scooted closer. "I thought about this on the drive down here. You always wanted to get your masters degree in fine arts, remember? This would be a great time to do it. "
"That was a long time ago. "
"Your excuses are wearing thin, Birdie. You could have gone to graduate school twenty years ago; you chose not to. Do you really want to leave Jack and fall into the same old patterns?"
It was true. She could have gotten her masters before the kids were born. Why hadnt she?
Because it would have made life difficult. What if Jacks dinner had been late? Or shed had a midterm on a game night?
What if she hadnt been talented enough?
"I guess I didnt want it enough. " That much was true, at least. Shed never been good at taking big risks unless it benefitted her children. And so she was here, a woman "like her," with nothing to fall back on and nothing to reach for.
"Be bold, Birdie. Apply. Take the road you turned away from. Isnt that what this is all about?"
"Come on, Meg. Im forty-five years old and I havent painted in twenty years. Sometimes, you really dont get a second chance. " She didnt want to talk about this anymore. "I cant imagine applying for grad school on my credentials. "
Meghann was clearly disappointed. "What about painting class, then?"
Elizabeth shuddered at the thought. Sitting in a room with a bunch of strangers, pretending shed refound a lost talent? Hardly.
Meghann looked at her. "Okay, okay. Your eye is twitching. Ill change the subject. "
"Thank you. "
"How about this: I need your help. Im trying to change my slutty ways. The problem is, I need to figure out how to get turned on by a man my own age. "
Elizabeth laughed. "Start slowly. Quit dating men who say things like awesome, dude, and thats tight. "
"And make conversation? I think not. Let me tell you, Birdie. The dating pool is damned shallow out there. Youll see. My last date wiped his nose on the tablecloth at Canlis, which actually placed him on a higher evolutionary rung than the guy who blew his nose out the car window because the Kleenex box was empty. Just wait, Birdie. In about six months, the fish-gut guy will start looking hot. When you finally realize what men our age are like, give me a call. Ill talk you down from the ledge. Wait! Better yet, move up to Seattle. You could have my second bedroom. "
"I love it here, you know that. "
"Here? Its another damned planet--and an uninhabited one at that. And let me tell you, that is not an ordinary rain. Im a Seattleite; we know rain. "
Laughing, Elizabeth slipped an arm around her friends shoulders and drew her close. "The beach is beautiful. "
"When you can see it. On the way down here, I saw a group of Japanese tourists lashed together for a beach walk. Theyll probably never be found. "
"When the sun shines--"
"Twice a year. "
"Its the prettiest place on earth. You can breathe here. "
"I can breathe in Beirut. It doesnt mean I want to live there. "
The alarm on the oven beeped. Elizabeth stood up, realizing abruptly how drunk she was. Her legs felt rubbery and she couldnt feel the tips of her fingers at all. It made her giggle. "Come with me. "
Meghann crawled to her feet. "Where are we going? Dancing? I love dan--" She frowned. "What was I talking about?"
They clutched each other like eighth-grade girls, their heads cocked together, giggling. Elizabeth led Meghann through the kitchen.
At the front door, Meghann stumbled to a halt. "Outside? Its raining hard enough to put your eye out. "
"A little water wont hurt you. "
"Id rather not. "
"Were going down to the beach. I go every night at this time. Its become a new ritual for me. Sort of a fear antivenin. "
"Thats because you have no life. For the next two days, Im here for entertainment. "
Elizabeth dragged her forward. "Hurry up or well miss them. My whales are very punctual. "
Meghann stopped dead. "Whales? Youre kidding, right?"
Elizabeth laughed. Damn, it felt good. "Come on, Counselor. For once, youre going to follow instead of lead. "
Elizabeth stepped into the darkened yard. Meghann stumbled along beside her, grasped her hand tightly. Rain fell hard and fast, turned the yard into a giant mud puddle.
"Be careful, its slippery," Elizabeth said.
They were halfway across the yard when the first call sounded.
"Hurry up," she said. "Theyre here. "
"You need help," Meghann said, spitting rain. "Serious, long-term, probably medicated help. "
Jack arrived at the studio a little later than usual. Hed been out late
last night, tossing back brewskis with Warren at Hogs n Heifers. He barely remembered getting home.
Hed had good reason to celebrate: Good Sports had premiered last week and become an instant hit. Ratings had gone through the roof.
Jack was hot again.
In the conference room, he went straight to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup.
"Good God," Warren said, laughing, "you look like hell. Just cant party like the old days, eh, Jacko?"
Smiling, Jack eased into the leather chair. "Youre looking a little the worse for wear yourself, Butterfingers. Maybe you shouldnt have had that last plate of nachos. "
Before Warren could answer, the door opened. The shows executive producer, Tom Jinaro, walked briskly into the room. His assistant, Hans, trailed along behind, his violin-bow arms loaded up with yellow notebooks and reams of paper.
Tom took his usual seat at the head of the table. A moment later, Warrens assistant came into the room and sat beside him.
Jack sat alone on his side of the table.
Tom looked down at his notes, then up at the faces around him. "Hans thinks we should do something on ephedrine in supplements. Sort of the secret-deadly-killer kind of thing. What do you think, Warren?"
Warren shrugged. "If someone dropped dead, theres probably a story there. "
"Jack? Whats your opinion?"
"Truthfully, Tom, I think its dull as mud. The kind of story that 60 Minutes or Dateline might do because theyre on-air so much. We should be pushing the envelope a little more, making people think. I read this article the other day--I think it was in The Christian Science Monitor, but it might have been the Times--anyway, it was about the troubles in Northern Ireland. Comparing it to the U. S. after September eleventh. The Irish know about living in dangerous, uncertain times. Theres got to be a way to tie it to sports. "
Tom tapped his pen on the table. After a long minute, he said, "Jacks right. I dont know shit from Shinola about Ireland, but its a better hook than some drug no one can pronounce. " He turned to Hans. "You know anything about Ireland?"
Hans frowned, pushed the glasses higher on his Ichabod Crane nose. "Theres a sports camp in the Mideast where they bring Jewish and Palestinian kids together. Maybe theres something like that in Ireland. You know, Catholics and Protestants coming together on the soccer field or some damned thing. "
Tom smiled. "Thats why youre my guy, Hans. Check it out. Give me a report by tomorrow a. m. " Then he thumped his hand on the desk. "Okay, sports fans, lets go through todays script. "
They spent the next two hours reading through and editing the script. Then Jack and Warren went into the studio, where their guest--an Olympic long jumper whod recently been diagnosed with MS--was waiting.
After the show, Jack hung around the studio for a while, talking to the various staffers whod also stayed late. An hour or so later, when the building was nearly empty, he returned to his office.
He sat down at his desk and picked up the phone, dialing a number from memory.
She answered on the third ring. "Hello?"
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