Zoe put her magazine down on the wooden deck and squinted at Tess. “I know, I think I’ve become one with this chair. I’m not sure I could move even if I wanted to. Although I have to say that every so often I have a powerful urge to go and check my email. How’s your work withdrawal going?”
Tess shrugged. “Not bad. Working from home has been good training. Once I’m done with what I need to do, I’ve gotten to the point where I can just walk away.”
“I think I’d be the opposite. Knowing it was all just steps away from me, halfway finished and fermenting, I’m not sure I could ever just walk away.” Zoe smiled. “Either that, or once away, I’d never get myself to go back.”
“It took a while to get used to it. At first I was constantly jumping up to do the laundry, whip up a snack, or run a quick errand. And I’m still way more distracted at home than I’d be in the office. But it’s a good distracted.” Tess looked at Zoe’s cell phone on the deck next to her. “It would definitely be the walking away that’d kill you.”
Zoe nodded.
“And anyways, I can’t quite see you jumping up to do a load of laundry.” Oh no, that sounded bitchy. Tess’s fingers reached for her necklace, but she had taken it off.
Zoe laughed easily. “If I wasn’t working in an office, I guess I’d have less dry cleaning and more laundry, right?”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Tess smiled and glanced at Zoe, who never failed to look amazing, even stretched out on a lounge chair in her pink bikini. She felt a pinch of jealousy, but nothing like the bitter surge that used to course through her whenever Zoe would waltz into a room. This I can handle.
Tess shifted in her chair and moaned as she ran her hand over her huge belly. “I think my bikini days are gone for good.”
“They’ll be back. When are you due again?”
“October.”
“And you don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“No. I want to find out, but Gavin doesn’t. He likes surprises.”
Zoe opened her mouth like she was going to say something, and then cleared her throat instead.
They were quiet for a moment, listening to the surf in the distance. Then Tess took a leap, opening a layer of conversation between them that had always been bolted. “Anyway, I think I’ve kept enough secrets from him.”
Zoe peeked at Tess, then out over the deck towards the rolling dunes. After a moment she said, “But you guys are good now?”
“I think so. Although sometimes I can still see something in his eyes, some kind of question, some shadow…”
“But that will get better, right?”
“I don’t know. I guess he and I both have scars, faded now, but still there. Maybe they’ll never go away. Maybe those secrets, that betrayal is something we will always be fighting against.”
Zoe didn’t reply, and Tess closed her eyes and mentally kicked herself. Too much information.
“But maybe that’s okay,” Zoe said after a moment. “Maybe on some level it will remind you what you’re fighting for, keep top-of-mind what’s important.” She sighed. “You know, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t itch for a drink. Even now, the thought of a thick, spicy bloody Mary is wiggling just underneath this conversation. I’ve even imagined the walk into the kitchen, the gathering of the ingredients… except when I start to imagine the sweet burn of the vodka I need to quickly focus on something else. Luckily you sat down.” She smiled and then bit her lip. “But it’s a daily struggle. And I’m not sure that will ever go away. But even though it’s relentless, it reminds me to focus on what’s really important. Without the itch, it’s easy for the important stuff to get lost.” She looked at Tess. “At least that’s what I tell myself when it gets hard. That if the ‘fighting against’ wasn’t intense, it would be too easy to pick up a glass and wind up right back where I was.” She shuddered. “I’m not sure I’m making sense.”
“You are.” The sound of the pounding surf filled an amiable silence. Tess was about to comment on their current teetotaling solidarity, but then thought better of making a joke. “Is it harder for you when everyone’s cocktailing?”
“Sometimes very.”
“Would it be easier if we didn’t drink?”
“Probably not. It would just make me feel guilty, like my choices, my mistakes, now impacted everyone else’s un-fucked up lives.” She paused. “One Shirley Temple in a room is enough.” She looked at Tess’s belly. “Although it looks like I’ve got an ally for a while.”
Tess smiled.
————
Now sober, Zoe could finally see that what was wrong in her life was not Tess’s fault. On the other hand, Tess’s pain, some of it at least, had definitely been her fault. So when the discussion of this vacation started to solidify, she had at first balked—after all, letting the tension between her and Tess just fade away sounded so much better than tackling it head on. But then she had straightened her shoulders and decided that this could be the perfect time to show everyone who had stood by her through the haze, and everyone who had suffered because of it, that she was in a better place. Maybe that would be the best thank you. And the best apology.
Zoe’s boyfriend had become tangled in her enthusiasm and had agreed to the vacation as well. Drew was a teacher (in fact, he had been Matthew’s teacher and Allie set them up), and with the whole summer off, a week away was no big deal. They had been dating for four months—a miracle in itself, Zoe thought, as their first date had almost ended before she had even said hello to this guy that Allie had convinced her she couldn’t pass up.
“Not quite your type,” Allie had said. “But I think he’s great. And the other day when he made a comment about being single, I immediately thought of you.”
“Is that because I’m your only single friend?” Zoe said.
Allie laughed. “It was either you or my anorexic aerobics instructor. No really, I think you might like this guy. He’s adorable.” She watched Zoe’s dark eyebrows rise.
“I’m not too sure ‘adorable’ is my thing.”
“But maybe working against type isn’t such a bad idea?”
Zoe smiled and held up her hands. “You’re right. And how bad can it be? It’s only one night.”
But as Zoe saw a goofy-looking guy with strawberry blond hair and a wide grin lumber over to her in the bar, she wanted to sprint out the side exit. Oh my God, Allie, you set me up with Howdy Doody?
Before she could strategize an escape however, he had loped up to her barstool. Without an introduction, and flashing a huge, dimpled grin, he leaned in and said, “I wore my running shoes so I could hightail it out of here if you said you were a cat lover.”
Zoe turned a poker face towards him. “I have two of them.”
Drew’s smile dimmed a few watts. “Oh well, I had a 50-50 shot at an immediate bond.” He grinned again and looked around. “I’m assuming they’re not with you?”
“No, they’re at home, waiting in my bed. They sleep with me.” Her blue eyes remained stone-serious.
“Really?” His smile disappeared. “What are their names?”
“Romeo and Juliette,” Zoe said after a brief hesitation. The hint of a giggle flickered across her face.
He paused, then chuckled. “You’re kidding right?”
Zoe full-out laughed. “You can take your sneakers off. I hate cats.”
Dating had always been a competitive sport for Zoe. The instant any initial attraction glinted off of an approaching lance, she assessed for weakness and assumed her opponent was doing the same. Then she led a guarded, one step forward, one step back dance—always keeping an eye on the other player—with full understanding of the dual nature of the goal: to stay in the game and to avoid the cut of getting too close.
But as her night with Drew wore on, it was clear that the only thing he was armed with were funny, endearing
stories about himself and his life as a first grade teacher. He wore his shirt and his heart untucked, his feelings and opinions hanging out without edge, without challenge. He had a habit of running his right hand through his short, confused hair, which gave him permanent bedhead. But his deep blue eyes belied his absent-minded professor look; they glittered like the early evening sky, daring her to come out, gently mocking any pretense with an I-can-see-through-your-crap twinkle.
Under his tousled delight, Zoe laughed at herself, at her own cynicism; a deep, resounding laugh that wasn’t carefully measured out in teaspoons and gauged for effect. Overall, the evening was like a ride in a convertible—a rush of pure inner freedom, of shared glee without deep insight or intensely personal revelations. At the end of the night, after a mediocre meal and without the augmentation of alcohol, Zoe surprised herself by saying yes to a second date. Which turned into a third, and months later, a vacation together.
Zoe was looking forward to having everyone meet; and nervous too, which felt strange. She had never really cared what her friends thought of her men before, possibly because she herself had never cared much about the men. Or possibly because the whole point of dating hadn’t been about interviewing an emotional partner, it had been about numbing pain.
Once they were all ensconced in the beach house however, the reviews were good; Drew was an immediate hit. It wasn’t long before they all discovered he was an excellent cook, and after he had whipped up a chunky bruschetta that infused the whole house with the aroma of garlic and basil, there were immediate cries of an encore.
“No wonder you go out with this guy,” Megan said as she swallowed a bite of his grilled swordfish with homemade pesto. “He’s got a secret weapon.”
“Why do you think I keep him around?” Zoe smiled at Drew.
“Are you saying that you don’t like my cooking?” Jared said to Megan; he stuck his bottom lip out.
“Honey, I love you dearly. But what you do isn’t cooking; it’s called heating.” They all laughed. “But you heat like a pro.”
————
Megan gazed at Jared across the candlelit table and thought for the millionth time how lucky she was to have married him. Somehow through all of Maggie’s sickness and treatment, and through all the other craziness of life that didn’t stop just because they prayed it would, they had tunneled through together, sometimes side-by-side, sometimes one of them cradling the other and scraping up the power to provide what the moment called for, whether it was a strong arm, a sympathetic shoulder, a silly joke, or just spaghetti. And sometimes, they found themselves clinging to each other while the waves of despair threatened to drown them both. But instead of being pulled under, they emerged from their sobbing hopelessness with a strong sense of solidarity; and whether or not each particular cry was cleansing, afterwards they were at least able to find their feet again and put one in front of the other, simply because they had each other, because they felt understood.
When they were home with the kids, Megan and Jared put all their strength into creating happiness—as if it was a delicate cake that needed just the right ingredients to rise—and they hated themselves when their exhaustion or crankiness was visible through their threadbare exterior. Oftentimes at night, after Maggie and Rose were in bed and asleep, they would make love, sometimes in an attempt to erase their worry, and other times in an attempt to connect with something profound, something hopeful. Either way, the sheer power of their converging emotions would often reduce one or both of them to tears.
The pregnancy had been a blessing, an amazing sign of life amidst the bleakness. It gave them all something to focus on. And as Megan’s stomach began to pop, Maggie finished the worst of her treatment, and the doctor declared her prognosis excellent. Hours after Rosie was born, Jared and an awestruck Maggie had cuddled up into the small white hospital bed with a battered but glowing Megan and the tiny, wrinkled baby girl. It had been one of the happiest moments of Megan’s life.
————
“This is so gorgeous,” Megan said softly as she and Allie ambled along the deserted beach. The morning was fresh, holy in its beauty; a deep breath. They sipped hot coffee from metallic travel mugs as they walked, and the shiny canisters reflected the cloud-splattered sunrise, allowing each of them to briefly hold a small piece of its multicolored magic. The dark green waves—rowdy teenagers trying to steal the scene—crashed at their feet and rhythmically caressed their ankles in white bubbles and clear, cool water. “Thanks for dragging me out of bed.”
Allie smiled. “Anytime.”
“Is Dana going to mind when he realizes he’s on duty with the kids?”
“He likes to do the mornings now actually. I think in a way, he’s trying to make up for lost time. And the kids are pretty self-sufficient now. At least in terms of getting breakfast and stuff.”
“God, I can’t even imagine that right now.”
“You’ll get there. Faster than you might like.” Allie paused. “Maggie looks really good.”
Megan smiled at her friend. “The doctors are really optimistic. She’s gained some weight back and some color, even before we got into the sun. And she doesn’t seem to care that she lost her hair.” She paused. “At first the hair loss was hard for Jared and me. It was scary. And it felt symbolic.” She looked at her hands as if she was holding her daughter’s hair. “A concrete loss. But then Jared suggested we focus on ‘it will grow back.’ Like of course, no doubts, it will grow back, which was like saying, of course she will get better. No doubts. And that became our mantra, it will grow back. That helped, a little.”
They were introspective as they crunched slowly on, their brightly painted toes—courtesy of their daughters—making soft, wet imprints in the sand.
“Will Jared care that he’s waking up on duty?” Allie said.
“Nah, he’ll be fine. He rolls with everything, and he’s used to the mornings. I’ve been going to work at the crack of dawn so that I can leave early to get home.”
“Your boss is okay with that?”
“She’s been nice, but I think my safety-pinned schedule isn’t going to fly much longer. She said as much when she gave me this vacation time. It was a gift with a warning label; take it and then enough.”
“I don’t know how you did it, with Maggie in and out of the hospital, a baby at home.”
“I didn’t do it alone. All of you guys, and our parents really stepped up. Hell, Rose pretty much moved in with us for a while there.” Megan smiled. “Payback for rolling my eyes at her.”
“You made it up to her when you named Rosie.”
Megan nodded. “And Jared’s amazing, he’s a rock. Oh Allie, thank God I—” She swallowed hard. “Thank God.”
Allie reached out and squeezed her arm. They crunched along in silence and sipped their coffee.
“You and Dana seem good,” Megan said.
Allie smiled. Dana had moved back in a month ago, and Allie was thrilled with how well it was going. They had been working hard on staying connected both physically and emotionally, infusing the everyday logistical machinery with unadorned feelings, purposeful attention, and spontaneous, tender gestures. “We may be still in our honeymoon phase—our second one—because things are sailing along. We’re trying not to fight.” She looked out across the water. “Actually, at least from my perspective, there doesn’t seem to be anything to fight about.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m not so sure. It seems a little unrealistic. I keep wondering when the shit’s going to hit the fan and real life will bully its way back in.”
“Or maybe it already has, and you haven’t noticed. You guys were made for each other. And if you can weather a year apart, then maybe real life doesn’t stand a chance.”
“That’s where we screwed up before, thinking we were somehow above falling apart because Fate had brought us together.” A wave crash
ed over their feet, washing in tiny shells and a brief silence. “Now we are working on… trying. On talking, asking, on not assuming. That was a big one; I just assumed I knew what he was thinking so after a while didn’t bother to ask. And of course as we got more disconnected, I wasn’t assuming golden thoughts and sweet intentions.” Allie smiled. “So now I’m trying to check in and check things out, give him a chance. Who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me.”
Megan paused for a minute. “And Dana?”
Allie looked appreciatively at her friend. “Well, he certainly wasn’t asking either. He assumed if he asked, he’d open up some can of worms, so better not to ask. And in his mind, Voilá! No ask, no conflict.” She sighed. “Of course the irony is, when he didn’t ask, it felt like he didn’t care.”
Megan nodded.
Allie continued, “You know, he’d come home to a clean house, pajama-ed kids, and he’d feel like family fringe. Certainly we jumped all over him when he got home—sometimes even in a good way.” She chuckled. “But I think he felt like some fabulous uncle who’d pop in with presents. I set the rules on the fly, and he’d have a hard enough time catching up on all the adventures, never mind the other stuff. He started to feel like he’d worked himself right out of the picture. Which just increased the pressure of succeeding at the office; after all, that’s where he thought he was most useful. Which made him that much more unavailable.”
“I get that,” Megan said. “That ‘MOMMY’S HOME!’ shout is an amazing rush, but it’s loaded. The minute I’m walking in the door,” she snapped her fingers, “I’m switching gears from frazzled and stressed into peppy superwoman—both to the kids and to Jared, who’s happy to see me, but probably even more relieved about the extra set of hands. I have about an hour to prove my worth, and of course it’s witching hour.”
Seagulls shrieked above them, swooping in and out of the wind.
“I thought it was all going to be a piece of cake.” Allie sighed. “Marriage? I envisioned love and romance and a quick pat on the butt as you pass each other in the kitchen. And parenting? How hard could it be to adore, have fun with, and even discipline your kids? I envisioned happily-ever-after with lots of crafts and witty banter.” She smirked. “Who knew about all the sticky glue and silence?”
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