Lost Along the Way(19)

“Thanks,” Cara said, tears welling in her eyes again. “She couldn’t believe that our friendship had devolved into this.”

“Me neither. I can’t believe what life has done to us.”

“Before she died, she begged me to reconcile with you.”

“You’re kidding,” Jane said. She stared out the window, wondering if Cara’s mother had orchestrated this entire thing, and if she’d somehow sent Jane to this house to fill the void she’d left in Cara’s life. “It’s like she knew this was going to happen. She always had answers for everything.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s just so weird because I’ve been thinking so much about you lately. Last year I found a ski jacket I thought you’d really like. I almost sent it to you for your birthday, but I wimped out. I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

Jane’s confession was met with a silent shrug and a raised eyebrow. She was saddened to realize she couldn’t interpret Cara’s nonverbal cues anymore.

“You believe me, don’t you?” Jane asked. It was a silly question to ask, but she suddenly felt she needed to be sure.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t know you, Jane. I knew the girl buried inside you. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“Neither have I,” Jane admitted with a sigh.

“Do you miss her?” Cara asked the question Jane had been asking herself a lot lately.

“I’m starting to.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask. What’s with the boobs?” Cara asked, cracking a slight smile. “They’re so . . . huge!”

“Birthday present,” Jane answered, looking down at the D-cup silicone sacs attached to her rib cage. She hated them, not just because they were too big for her body, not just because they made sleeping on her stomach impossible, but also because they reminded her of Doug and everything that was wrong with her life.

“Your husband bought you boobs for your birthday?”

“Yup.”

“They look . . . uncomfortable,” Cara said. “You don’t have the frame to carry them.”

“Last winter I walked out of the gym with my shirt wide open and I had no idea. I couldn’t even feel the cold air hitting them. That was uncomfortable, let me tell you.”

Cara laughed. “I so wish I could’ve seen that.”

“It was mortifying.”

“You look tired. No amount of Botox can cover that up.”

“So I’ve learned.” She sighed.

Jane looked around the room. It was perfectly neat, which wasn’t surprising. Cara had always been a stickler for cleanliness and order. What surprised her was that everything was colorless. Cara used to love color: bold patterns, bright nail polish. This home was beautiful, but it was sterile. Two white couches were covered with white and beige pillows, and camel-colored cashmere blankets were neatly folded over their backs, begging someone to curl up under them with a book or a cup of tea or a glass of wine. The carpet covering the hardwood floor was cream with a tan diamond pattern and looked like no one had ever stepped foot on it. Polished end tables supported the weight of heavy crystal lamps and antique lacquered boxes. Other than their wedding photo, there wasn’t a single picture of Cara or Reed in this room. In fact, so far, she hadn’t seen a single picture of either of them in the entire house. Jane had a feeling that Cara was probably able to convince people that Reed didn’t like pictures, or that age had made them camera shy. They wouldn’t be the first people approaching middle age who decided to steer clear of high-definition lenses, but Jane knew Cara too well to ever believe that.

“I hate to do this to you, but I have to go out to dinner tonight. Reed is picking me up here at eight,” Cara said, shifting in her chair.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you knew I was coming. You don’t sound too happy about it, though,” Jane said. She’d hoped they would stay up and talk. She’d hoped Cara would explain the bedrooms and the lack of photos. She’d hoped Cara would tell her that she had been right all along.

“I haven’t felt much like socializing lately, to be honest. I have to get in the shower and start getting ready. You should go to bed early, and we can pick this up in the morning. Make yourself at home while I’m gone.”

“That actually sounds pretty amazing. I remember when I didn’t even go out until eleven. All I want to do is sleep, to be honest,” Jane said, not realizing how absolutely pathetic that was until she heard herself say it out loud. It was almost like a confession. “I have pills to help take the edge off.”

“Sleeping pills are addictive. You shouldn’t rely on them too much.”

“I know, but I don’t really care right now. I have bigger problems to deal with and I feel safe in bed. I know once I get out of it, I have to contend with the press, and the rumors, and the accusations, and the overwhelming self-hatred for being inadvertently involved in something that hurt so many people.”

“This must be hard for you,” Cara said. Jane looked up to see if she was being sarcastic, but she wasn’t. Cara now seemed understanding, even sympathetic. It had been a long time since anyone had been either of those things toward her.

“The hardest part is being alone. I don’t mean without a husband. That, I could handle. I mean just alone. The only person who will even speak to me without wanting to spit in my face is Hector, the maintenance man in the building. Once they evict me, I won’t even have him.”