“Stronger than this? Stronger than deception? How can I trust you ever again, Robin? How can I trust that you won’t sleep with my next boyfriend? Or my husband, for that matter?”
“Sophie, I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” she begged. “I’m so sorry….”
“Yeah, I am, too.” I headed towards the door. “I’m sorry you turned out to be a complete bitch. I’m sorry I was ever your friend and trusted you.” I angrily swung the front door open.
Robin sobbed after me, “Sophie, please. Please…”
“You and Brandon deserve each other.”
“It was one time and never again,” she cried. “One stupid, stupid time.”
“One time is enough.”
“What can I do to fix this? I don’t want to lose our friendship.”
With one hand on the doorknob, I turned back.
“You can never talk to me again. Never see me. Never come to me. Never have anything to do with me again. I don’t want to know you anymore, Robin.” I closed the door, astonished at how relaxed I had been at the end. What had come over me?
It didn’t last long; halfway home I was overcome by rage, shaking and screaming in the confines of the car. In a matter of one short yet turbulent hour I had lost two of the most important people in my life. What was a woman to do? The pieces were scattered and there was absolutely no hope in sight of piecing them back together.
Chapter Eight
It was about two years ago. I remember sitting in one of my favorite cafés, Café Variante, enjoying a warm cup of coffee and sharing a thick piece of banana bread with Robin. I had sneaked a moment away from a particularly stressful afternoon at work and ducked out of the rain and into the busy café, filled with the comforting old-world charm knick-knacks and decor, like quite a handful of Belltown-area cafés. As it was a Saturday, Robin had the day off and called me up, insisting that I find some time to meet and chat with her about something “very important.”
“So,” I asked Robin as I chewed a piece of the banana bread, the cinnamon bursting with each delicious nibble. “What’s this very important, super exciting news, girl?”
Robin was glowing. She had been juggling a lot at work and, to make matters worse, wasn’t exactly happy with her home life. She was a “dried up well,” as she oh-so-delicately put when it came to topics of love, romance, or seven-digit-pick-ups. All she’d had in the past few months were a few dud dates. Why Robin didn’t feel comfortable in her own (beautiful) skin I’ll never understand, but for whatever reason known only to her she had never exuded much confidence. Having guys from clubs and bars not call her like they said they would, or having failed date after failed date, certainly did not aid things. Judging by her radiant glow and shining smile that afternoon, she had either gotten a big promotion at work or she had recently found love—or at least a welcoming path toward it. Maybe she claimed that much-coveted project management title at work for the cover art of all of next season’s contemporary romance books. She had had her eye on a P.M. position for quite some time.
“I met a guy,” she exclaimed.
“That is awesome, Robin. Dish,” I said.
Even when Robin had gotten a call back from a guy or she had a date on the calendar, she usually wasn’t as chipper as she was at that moment. This guy must have been something special.
“Okay,” she started, setting down her mug of coffee. “His name’s Joseph, and he’s super, super sweet. He’s got so many of those qualities I’m looking for, you know?” She gushed on about how fabulous this guy was whom she had met when shopping for fresh produce down at the ever-busy Pike Place Market the other day. He was tall, dark, handsome, “emotionally aware,” as Robin phrased…the whole kit and caboodle. He sounded like the dashing man I knew would some day sweep Robin off her feet.
“I am so very happy for you, girl. So, when are you going out? Have you already been out?”
“That’s the thing I wanted to talk to you about, Sophie. See, we met at the market, and then we hit it off so well and started talking and talking…eventually we ended up having lunch together on the pier.” She was smiling from ear to ear. “Anyway, I give him my number, he says he’ll call—like they all say—and, well, he did. And we’ve got a date!”
“That’s awesome.” And it was. I really hoped this Joseph guy would pan out. “So you’re going out, eh? When?”
“That’s the problem,” she said. She took a sip of her coffee, then picked off a corner of the bread. “Our date’s for tomorrow. The problem is that I completely forgot about my date with Lara tomorrow. We had this whole big day planned to go have brunch, go shopping, even catch a ballet performance.” The glow started to disappear from Robin’s face. “You know how much I hate to go back on plans.”
Robin was the girl who upheld the “vows” of friendship stronger than anyone I knew. Claire could also nearly always be counted on for…well, just about anything. If Claire said she’d be there, she’d be there, and if she had something else to do she’d kindly let you know. Our good friend Emily Saunders, whenever she was in town (as she so often traveled the globe), was generally good for her money. Give her a time and a place and if she didn’t have some wildlife adventure to hop off to, she’d be there. The same went for Lara and myself, both of us ninety percent of the time able to say “count me in” or “regrettably not.” Rarely would we back out of plans last-minute. Jackie, well, she was our loose cannon girlfriend, but we loved her anyway. She was always, and I mean always, the girl that would say, “Most definitely I’ll be there!” And then, about half the time, would call last minute because of a sudden change of plans or, as was sometimes and unfortunately and always aggravatingly the case, would forget all about the plans and either sleep in or say “yes” to some other social occasion.
Robin, though, was a “you’ve got it; I’ll be there” girl. You could always count on her. Naturally, if she had other plans she’d either work something out or have to decline, but she never, and I mean never, double-booked her plans. She never changed her mind last-minute; nor did she ever leave you high and dry.
“Robin, don’t be silly,” I said. “Lara will totally understand.”
“You think? I mean, she’s had those ballet tickets for weeks. And we’ve been meaning to take some time off and away from it all—”
“Robin.” I cupped her hands in mine. “You silly, silly girl. She will not care that you’ve accidentally double-booked plans. And with what sounds like a hottie-Mc-Hot-Hot, right?”
She laughed. “I guess…but she bought those tickets for me and I feel bad bailing on her.”
“How’s this?” I said. “I’ll offer to buy the tickets from Lara. And if she wants to go with me then we’ll make a date out of it. Besides, I’ve been meaning to catch up with her lately. Work’s just been so crazy and all.” I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, Sophie…”
“Nope. No worries. You go have fun on your date and don’t think twice about it. Lara will understand.”
She looked at me questioningly, one eyebrow raised.
“I promise you,” I added. I took another bite of bread. “You deserve to meet a fabulous man. And Joseph sounds pretty damn good.”
Robin smiled brightly over her mug of coffee, her radiant glow returning once again. “He is. He is, girl.”
***
Where had that confiding in one another gone? Where had those good times and sisterly moments run off to? How could the tables turn so suddenly and my friendship—my dear friendship with Robin, a friend of seven years—burn away over one stupid mistake? My heart ached for all of those past moments of sweet friendship with Robin, and for the moments that I knew I would never have again. I couldn’t make amends with her after what she had done. The idea was preposterous. Even though I wanted so badly to know that I had a noble and dear friend in Robin, the unfortunate truth was that all of the good times were behind me. What was ahead, I didn’t know.
***
“Where have you been?” Claire said as I stormed through the front door. I threw my purse down on the floor and tossed my keys aside. I had raced home in what had to be record time. I was so furious and hurt all I could think of doing was crying into my pillow.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I shouted, making a beeline for my bedroom.
Conner and Claire were in the living room. They were still clad in their pajamas, eating bowls of cereal and watching some nonsense on television.
“Sophie,” Claire called after me. “Sophie!”
I instantly threw my body onto my bed and buried my face into a pillow, howling and crying. I heard the bedroom door close and then Claire’s tender touch on my back. “Sophie, honey, what happened?”
Through tears and a small bout of initial resistance, I told Claire everything. The entire evening with Brandon, the huge mistake I made, the truth coming out, all the way to my confronting Robin about the entire thing. Claire was the amazing friend that I knew she would be. She held me while I cried, comforted me through the rehashing of the horrible events, and assured me that she’d help me through it all. When Conner briefly knocked on the door and inquired if everything was alright she told him she had it all under control. Claire was my rock.
“We’ll get through this, Sophie,” she encouraged, wiping some tears from my cheeks. “It’s not going to be easy, but you’re going to come out stronger from all of this. You’re going to get through it and come out braver, and even happier. It’s a real low point right now, but we’re going to get you through it. Okay?”
I nodded and gave her a weak smile. “I cannot believe Robin would do this to me.”
“I can’t either.”
“I don’t understand how someone can do this. I guess you hear about crap like this happening, but you never imagine it really happening to you, you know?” Claire nodded in agreement. “I’m beside myself about the whole thing. I would never do this to her.”
“Maybe give it some time and you can talk to her again. Try to sort things out? I can come with you, if you like?”
“Talk to her? To Robin? That slut? Hell no!” How could Claire suggest such an appalling prospect? Robin and I were through. Adios. Kaputt. Goodbye. “I told her I don’t want to talk to her or ever see her again. She’s as good as dead to me, Claire. I can’t even look at that lying bitch.”
Claire rested her hand on my shoulder. “It was only a suggestion. A thought. We don’t have to do anything about it right now.”
“Or ever!”
“Or ever…. I think you just need some time to yourself and time to calm down. And of course, I’ll be here if you need anything. If you need anything.”
I embraced Claire in a warm hug and thanked her. Claire’s kindness and strength and friendship were the epitome of what a woman should expect in a real and true friend. Why couldn’t Robin have those qualities? She always said she’d have your back. She just failed to mention there could be a knife in it.
Claire was always there for me, though, and I for her. It was the basic dynamic of our relationship. A sort of “to have and to hold” deal. When Claire had random squabbles with Conner or the times Conner flirted too much with some sorority girl and they almost called it quits, I was Claire’s shoulder to cry on. When she had a really nasty bout of the flu our sophomore year I made her countless bowls of homemade chicken noodle soup, gathered her class notes, and made sure she had plenty of Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts films at her fingertips. When her parents decided to split up and file for divorce that first year we were in college, I was Claire’s middle-of-the-night comforter when she found herself sporadically crying. Her go-to-girl to escape to the mall for some mindless shopping, to walk to the gas station down the road to answer a Slurpee craving, to join in the bathroom to hand her the tissue as she sat on the edge of the bathtub, crying and swearing. I was there for Claire—always was and always would be.
And she was always, without a shadow of a doubt, there for me. When I got a ‘D’ on two exams in a row in our General Mathematics course we took together one semester, on the brink of failing the class, Claire was right there with a calculator in one hand and a cafe mocha in the other. When Brandon and I had gotten into a huge fight over something so insignificant I can’t recall (although I vaguely remember a bag of frozen French fries playing a part somehow), Claire opened up her front door and let me become her roomie just like old times…just like now. When I was extremely stressed trying to juggle my part-time job at Katie’s Kitchen and the insurmountable homework that was backing up, Claire answered my subconscious need for a night at home with nothing on the agenda but baking a batch of cupcakes, opening up a bottle of wine, and making it a girls’ night in with sugar, sulfites, and, of course, a film with a sexy actor we both lusted after. Claire was simply my best friend. I loved her and trusted her implicitly.
Of course, it wasn’t just Claire; I viewed everyone in our group of girlfriends as sisters—it was a sisterhood, after all. And up until now, I would never have believed any of them could hurt me like Robin had.
Robin, Claire, and I were a part of the same freshman orientation camp in college. We had clicked—like the three musketeers—and we embarked on the college journey together. Quickly Claire and I decided to become roommates, and probably would have partnered up with Robin too, had she not been on the university’s track and field team and opted to live with some of her teammates in a large, shared dormitory. Regardless of our living arrangements, the three of us hung out all the time. Together we went through homesickness, weight fluctuations, binge partying, stress from too much homework, bad hair days when we had a date lined up—everything a typical freshman girl faces when she heads off to college.
And thank goodness we had our friend Lara there for us during the troubling freshman year. Lara had been our freshman orientation camp counselor. As a junior we all looked up to her as the resident know-it-all. Lara and Robin actually became closest of friends, much like Claire and myself. They eventually lived in an on-campus apartment together while Lara continued on at U Dub to receive her MBA.
It was through Lara that Claire, Robin, and I met some of my other best friends, Jackie Anderson and Emily Saunders. They were both sophomores when we met my first year at school, and had been friends with Lara for awhile. When they discovered that some of Lara’s best friends were three silly freshmen she had befriended at orientation, they welcomed us with open arms, ecstatic that their sisterhood was growing. All of these girls, my very close circle of girlfriends from the beginning of my time in college, all through today, seven years later, never in a million years would purposely hurt or betray me. Not until a few weeks ago, that is.
Claire was absolutely right when she consoled me there in my room, saying that everything would work out in the end, but that it was going to take time to heal and repair things.
“Eventually everything will be beautiful, Sophie,” she said sweetly.
I loved how optimistic Claire always was. She was always able to look at a bad situation and find the good in it. She said she tried to live by the adage that “with something bad comes something good”, and she most certainly did. Granted she would break down now and then as any normal, emotional woman does, but she always strove to keep a stiff upper lip. And even if grief or anger had to spread their wings, eventually she’d make sure happiness and kindness always shoved through. I wished at that very moment I had the strength and optimism that she was blessed with.
“You want some brunch?” Claire asked, getting up off my bed, whose sheets and comforter were strewn about the place, thanks to my rant when I burst home.
“Nah,” I answered, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’m not really hungry.” It was a small lie. My stomach had been rumbling all morning, but I didn’t feel like spending another waking moment…awake. All I wanted was to sleep. Maybe I could sleep away my problems.
“You need to eat, Sophie. You’re thin enough as it is. Don’t be silly and st
arve yourself.”
I chuckled. “Like that’ll happen. You know how much I love to cook and eat baked goods.” I had a naughty sweet tooth. How can you be in a kitchen and bake magnificent cakes and cookies and breads and not nibble at them? “I just feel like sleeping. I’m going to take a nap. Thanks though.” With that, Claire gave me a warm hug and left me to drift into my nap.
I laid there on my side for awhile, hugging the warm blankets to my chin. What would my next move be? How does a girl pick up her feet and deal with something like this? In the midst of trying to figure out why my best friend could deceive me, Brandon’s face began to appear in my mind. The memories of his musky scent, endearing smile, and seductive eyes all washed over me and I wept. I wept over my losses, yet despite the burning in my heart and stomach, I actually began to miss both of the people who had sent me into this world of pain. A girl can’t easily let go of a dear friendship of seven years, nor a serious relationship of three years with the man she thought she would some day call her husband. What was I to do?
Finally, I was given a bout of relief as sleep overcame me.
Chapter Nine
“What time is it?” I mumbled to myself as I awoke from my nap, searching for my iPhone that I used for next-to-everything, my alarm clock included. It was nowhere to be found. Ugh, it’s in my purse up front. I dragged myself out of my messy bed. Judging by the light outside, it was past lunch. My rumbling stomach confirmed it.
I sauntered into the kitchen, surprised to find a completely empty house. No Conner. No Claire. And no Schnickerdoodle. Only a note in Claire’s handwriting on the dining table. Hey, girl. We went to take Schnickerdoodle for a walk in the park. Plan on being gone awhile—give you some time to be alone. Back before dinnertime. Think we should order something? Your pick. XO Claire
When Girlfriends Break Hearts Page 6