Lana would come through, the nurse outside the room had said. It would take her a while to get back to her old self. Her large intestines were badly damaged. But at least she had her life, her hopes, Weslee thought. The tears pricked at her eyes again as she pictured Holly’s face in her head, heard her weak voice: “Girl, I’m sure we used to be sisters in another life.”
How could all of this happen?
Weslee badly wanted someone to talk to, someone who would comfort her. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed his number.
The phone rang six times and then: “This is William, I’m not home right now, but please . . .”
She couldn’t help but think of Duncan. Did he know? Would he visit Lana at the hospital? His arms around her would make her feel less afraid, Weslee thought. She pushed the thought out of her head. Calling him would be the biggest, most fatal step back she could ever take. She quickened her pace.
Weslee had been in her apartment for three hours before Eleanor called her right about midnight. Lana was awake.
Weslee quickly got dressed again and this time called a taxi.
She arrived just as an older man and an elderly woman were making their entrance. The man introduced himself as Lana’s father. The woman was Lana’s grandmother, Eleanor’s mother. Weslee felt strange walking into the room with them. She so obviously didn’t belong there.
“Hi, Weslee.” Eleanor looked up from her chair beside the bed. She seemed to be in a much lighter mood. “Honey, Weslee’s here.”
Weslee was nervous as she approached Lana’s bed. She wasn’t sure what to say, what with the way things were between the two of them. The fact that her family was looking on did not make things any less awkward.
“Hey, girl,” Weslee said, trying to be casual. Lana’s face was bruised and puffy, and her right leg was in a cast. “You look fabulous.”
Lana tried to smile at the joke but winced in pain at the effort.
“We’ll let you girls talk,” Eleanor said and shooed her husband and mother out of the room.
“How are you feeling?” Weslee knew it was a stupid question.
“I’m hurting all over,” Lana said, grimacing.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? It wasn’t your fault.” Lana wasn’t trying, but she was being caustic.
“I’m sorry for the things I said to you the last time. . . .”
Lana held up her hand. “I’m the one . . .” Her eyes began to tear up. “I haven’t been half the friend that you’ve been to me, Weslee.” It was the first time Weslee had ever seen Lana come anywhere close to crying, and she was touched.
“No, Lana. Remember, if it weren’t for you, I . . . You took me under your wing.” Weslee felt her voice cracking up.
“I was just so mean to you. But I couldn’t help it. I don’t know what comes over me sometimes.” Lana was crying.
“Lana, don’t upset yourself like this. It’s all in the past, OK?” Weslee touched her hand. “It’s all in the past,” she said again. “Don’t upset yourself.” She gave Lana a Kleenex.
“I need to tell you something,” Lana said, sniffling.
“Whatever it is, it can wait until you get better and you get out of here.”
“No, I need to tell you now.”
Weslee sighed. She knew she couldn’t change Lana’s mind; even laid up in a hospital bed, she was still Lana.
“It’s Duncan. He’s a jerk, Weslee. He’s my cousin, but he’s a jerk.”
Weslee said nothing. Lana would get no argument from her on that one. But Lana’s statement was not news to her.
“I should have told you this weeks ago when I found out, but I was so caught up with getting back at you for being right about me.” Lana took a deep breath, and the pain was obvious in her expression. She closed her eyes.
“He’s engaged,” she said after the pain had dulled a little. “He got engaged on New Year’s Eve in London to this girl he’s been with since college.”
Weslee felt a chill go through her body.
Lana looked at her worriedly. “I’m sorry, Weslee. He’s a jerk. I should have . . .”
“It’s OK,” Weslee heard herself say. “We broke up a few weeks ago, anyway.”
“So he told you?” Lana asked.
Weslee didn’t answer. But she thought, Well, he kind of did, just not in so many words.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t warn you. But I thought things had ended between them. Then I heard he had started visiting her in London recently, so I thought he had broken it off with you. Then I ran into William the other day, and he told me that he didn’t think that you knew the whole truth.” Lana was still looking at Weslee with that worried look.
“It’s OK. It’s OK. I’m a big girl.” She wasn’t lying. She was trying so hard not to cry.
“Weslee, I’m your friend. It’s not OK,” Lana said gently but firmly.
Weslee nodded and tried to stifle the feeling of rage that was building in her stomach. It was all too much, she thought. She tried to put all the pieces together. When? How? How could she not have suspected? Then Sherry’s words echoed in her head. She’d chosen again to see what she wanted to see. I am such a freaking idiot! Weslee thought angrily. Can I be any more stupid?! Then a chilling thought wended its way through her brain. Holly! Their experience seemed eerily similar. . . What if I wasn’t the only one he cheated with? She remembered that one time they hadn’t used a condom because things had gotten too hot and heavy; stopping had seemed out of the question. Oh my God! She began to hate with a fury she had never felt before.
“Lana, I need to get out of here. I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.” Weslee bolted out of the hospital and headed home.
Chapter 26
Weslee flung open the door of her apartment and threw the keys and her bag on the floor. All she had had time to do on the way home from the hospital was think. Think about Duncan: the way he lied, said he loved her, spent time at her place. And all along, he knew. Knew he was going to ask this other woman to marry him.
She picked up the almost-full bottle of whiskey that was on her kitchen counter.
“Even told me he’d take me away that weekend. That same damned weekend he got engaged in London!” She spoke to no one in particular and took a swig from the bottle.
“Lying, evil bastard!” she screamed as tears coursed down her face. She paced the floor, taking huge swallows from the bottle. She thought her vision was getting blurry, and her head felt light. But the anger was what she felt the most. It was hot and dark, and it burned under her skin. It was something that she had never allowed herself to feel before, and the feeling of it was scary and liberating at the same time.
She wanted to hurt him so bad. She had tried calling him at his apartment when she had left the hospital, but there was no answer there or on his cell phone. She knew he was probably at his office. What she really wanted to do was go down there and smack him hard in the face in front of all his colleagues. But her common sense told her not to make a scene that would only humiliate her.
She grabbed the phone and dialed the number to his office. He picked up on the first ring.
“You couldn’t breathe? You couldn’t breathe, but you could get engaged to some bitch?”
“Weslee?”
“How could you lie to me like this? All these months.” She was sobbing into the phone. She wanted to scream at him, swear at him.
“Weslee. Calm down.”
“No, I won’t calm down, you jerk. I believed you when you said you loved me. How could you do this!”
“Weslee, do you want me to come over there?” Duncan spoke calmly and slowly, as if speaking to a child.
“Don’t you come anywhere near me!” she yelled into the phone.
“Weslee. Will you just calm down? You’re hysterical.”
“I’m hysterical? I’m hysterical? You haven’t seen hysterical, Duncan!”
She slammed down the phone. She wanted to hurt him. She thought of go
ing to his apartment and smashing his CD collection. Maybe she would break the windows of his car. Call his parents and tell them what he had done. The anger, mixed with the effects of the whiskey, made thoughts of revenge crowd and jumble in her mind until she wanted to scream.
She dialed his number again. “I hate you, Duncan. I hate the day that you were born. I hate you. Do you hear me?”
He didn’t answer.
“Do you hear me?”
“Weslee, if you don’t calm down I’m going to have to call your folks, OK? You’re scaring me. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“Doing what to myself? You did this to me!”
“I’m not going to listen to this. Call me when you want to talk about this like an adult.”
She heard the dial tone before she could say another word.
She threw the phone across the room. It crashed against the wall.
She sat on the floor and cried herself to sleep.
She woke up, dazed, a few hours later. She looked around the living room. Her head felt swollen. She noticed the phone was on the floor, the receiver off the cradle. The empty bottle of whiskey was not too far away from where it had spilled onto the carpet. She tried to get up from the floor where she had dozed off, but her heavy head wouldn’t let her. She lay back down on the floor and looked up at the ceiling.
All those feelings she felt were so familiar: the anguish, the anger, the hopelessness. She had felt them when Michael left. She had felt them again just weeks ago when Duncan left. She had been progressing, moving forward. But now this. She couldn’t accept that the last few months had all been a lie. How could she have been so wrong? He must have loved her. After all the time they spent together, all the things they did, all the presents . . . It had to have meant something to him. He couldn’t have loved someone else all along. Why would he go through all the trouble? How could she not have even suspected? Were there any signs that she missed? The times he was moody; the last few months, when his lovemaking had gone from tender to formulaic; all those trips he took to London. Were those signs?
How could she have been so stupid? Again. So soon. And Lana knew. William knew. She didn’t know. How could she do this to herself again? How was she to get over this? She felt immobilized by all the feelings that were inside of her. Maybe she would just stay on the floor until all the rage and the pain went away. She looked up at the ceiling. She wanted to call on something. On God, maybe, but she couldn’t now. She couldn’t understand why He would let this happen. Hadn’t she suffered enough?
The doorbell rang.
Sherry wouldn’t take no for an answer, apparently, because here she was at Weslee’s door in full crisis mode.
“Wes, I’m so sorry.” Sherry hugged her friend. It had taken her less than an hour to come over after Weslee’s desperate call to her.
Weslee just stood there and let Sherry hug her.
It wasn’t until hours later that morning, still sobbing as Sherry sat with her, that Weslee realized the marathon had come and gone. She hadn’t run.
“We’ll run next year,” Sherry said as she made scrambled Egg Beaters in the kitchen.
“Maybe I should just get out of Boston. This whole thing, coming here, was probably just a bad idea.”
“Oh, please. Think of all you’ve done in the last few months. All the people you’ve met. Moi included.” Sherry pointed to her chest, smiling. “Besides, this is the greatest city in the world. You’re just trying to find your way, that’s all. Everybody goes through this eventually.”
“Ever think of becoming a shrink, Sherry?” Weslee asked dejectedly.
“I have. But I don’t have the patience for simple people who screw up their lives. But you, I could work with you. You just need to toughen up a bit. Stop sitting around on the sidelines of your own life.”
Weslee contemplated this. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said as Sherry set a plate of eggs before her. “I’m gonna get tested.”
“Tested?” Sherry looked confused as she plunked two slices of bread into the toaster.
“Yup. For HIV.” The thought hadn’t left her mind since that day at the hospital. Her rational mind told her that there was no way in the world that a guy like Duncan could have any sinister disease. But the mental images of an emaciated, coughing Holly wouldn’t give her any rest. That could be me, she thought. The fear kept her from sleeping, from concentrating on studying, from breathing it seemed. I’m not the old me, who only sees what she wants to see, Weslee told herself. She decided that she wanted the test, dramatic though the decision seemed.
“That’s . . . that’s wise, I guess,” Sherry said, looking at her squarely. “Is that something you’ve been worrying about?”
“Since I found out about Duncan’s . . . er . . . engagement, it’s all I’ve thought about. What if I wasn’t the only one he was seeing? What if it hadn’t been the first time he’s cheated on this girl?”
“Didn’t you guys use protection, Wes?” Sherry asked, narrowing her eyes.
Weslee looked down at the table, ashamed. “There was that one time—”
Sherry cut her off, disappointment in her voice. “Well, do what you need to do to put your mind at ease. You shouldn’t have to live with that fear on top of everything else.” Sherry sat next to her at the tiny dining room table. “You’re gonna be fine, Wes.” She patted Weslee’s hand. “But get the test. It will make you feel better. But you’re fine. I believe in prayer, and you’ll be fine.”
Weslee pushed her eggs around the plate.
“But from what you told me, he’s really busy and this girl is overseas, right?” Sherry asked.
Weslee nodded.
“So why would you think he’s running around on her and you?”
“I don’t know. I’m just . . . I’m just . . . I just can’t get that image of Holly out of my head. The more I think about it, the more I realize I really didn’t know Duncan that well. He was so quiet and moody most of the time . . .” She trailed off, realizing that the same remoteness she had found so sexy was what was causing her the most worry now. “I really couldn’t tell you if he was the type to have two women or four women or fifty women.” She sighed.
Sherry shook her head. “Girl, take the test then. And I’ll say a prayer for you.”
Weslee found herself praying, too, that night as she struggled to fall asleep. I know you’ll listen to Sherry’s prayers, God, she thought, even if you don’t answer mine.
Chapter 27
It felt strange to be around Lana now only because she wasn’t the person she was before the accident. Weslee almost felt that she hadn’t known Lana at all. Where was the vivacious, perky, loud life of the party that she had met a few months ago? Lana was subdued. Her leg was broken, and her usual feisty spirit seemed to be limping, too. The independent façade she had built so skillfully had crumbled. In the last two weeks she had been forced to depend on others for her most basic needs. And she seemed so humble, pliant, and needy sometimes. It was a welcome change.
Weslee watched her hobble around on her crutches in her apartment. The blender drowned out the noise of the television. It was Saturday—smoothie movie day, Weslee had called it. She had tried to cheer Lana up since her discharge from the hospital, but it had been a difficult task. Lana was sinking further into depression and alcohol withdrawal. It amazed Weslee that neither she nor anyone else had suspected the extent of Lana’s problems.
Weslee stopped by Lana’s place when she could to give Eleanor or Lana’s grandmother a break. They were her full-time caretakers for now. Although the doctor said she could eat solid food, she still struggled to keep anything edible down. Weslee mixed protein shakes, made her oatmeal and fruit smoothies.
“Lana, smoothies are ready,” Weslee called out as Lana hobbled her way back to the couch.
“God, I hope it stays down,” Lana replied, slowly setting herself down into the couch. “Those pineapple chunks sure didn’t.”
Weslee resisted
the urge to give her another pep talk about thinking positive. It was all she had been doing the last few weeks: trying to raise Lana’s spirits, trying to restore her confidence, trying to get her to forgive herself for not being the strong person she thought she was.
“What are we watching?”
“The Royal Tenenbaums.” Weslee knew it was one of Lana’s favorite movies.
“Could you make more coffee, too?” Lana asked. “I’m sorry. Thanks.”
“It’s OK. I don’t mind being your maid.”
“Weslee, you’re not. I told you—”
“Lana, relax. I’m just kidding.” Weslee handed Lana the smoothie in a tall glass.
“Are you sure?” Lana’s face was pained with embarrassment and shame.
“Lana. You are my friend. I want to be here with you and for you.”
Lana sniffled.
“Don’t get emotional on me, OK? Else I’m going to start asking for the old you to come back.”
“I’m sorry. Everything makes me cry these days.”
Weslee sat next to her friend and put her arm around her shoulder.
“It’s OK. Let’s watch the movie.”
Weslee watched the previews absently. It was true. She didn’t mind being here with Lana. For one thing, it kept her out of the ground zero of misery that her apartment had become. If it wasn’t loneliness consuming her, it was Holly and her haunting story of her dream life turned into a fatal nightmare. The funeral had been sparsely attended, mostly hospital staff and one lawyer from her old firm who had seen the obituary that Sherry made sure got in the major newspapers. Weslee had taken the picture of Holly when she was young, vibrant, and beautiful. For some reason it made her feel stronger. Sherry had been right—focusing on other people did make her own problems seem less important. They didn’t even seem like problems at all.
She was no fool. She knew that things did not happen overnight. Lana was not suddenly changed for the better. But Holly’s death and Lana’s accident had made Weslee see that having an imperfect friend was better than being alone. People came in all different sorts of packages, and there was no law that said she had to take the whole package. She could take the parts of it that she liked, that she could stand, and leave the rest. It was that simple. Lana would always be selfish, probably. She was selfish long before Weslee had entered her life. Why would she totally and immediately transform? Because of how wonderful a person I am, the old Weslee would have thought. Now she was starting to learn that life didn’t work that way.
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