Lost Along the Way(51)

“It doesn’t matter, Jane. Just go to bed.”

“I tried, but I can’t sleep. I’m too busy thinking about how much I suck at life.” Jane held her wineglass to her face and peered through the pale yellow liquid at the fire on the other side. “I made a new fire. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” Meg said, though she was less than thrilled at the thought of a drunk Jane literally playing with fire in her house.

“This looks so weird. I feel like I’m tripping.”

“You don’t suck at life,” Meg said. Jane glanced over at her quickly, then decided to stare at the ceiling instead. “You just fell in love for the wrong reasons. You loved him for his money, and that’s why you’re in this mess.”

“I didn’t just love him for his money. I loved him for his willingness to spend it on me. It’s not the same. That’s the thing, though. I thought it was his money. I didn’t know I was hurting anyone. You believe me, right? I’d never steal from people. But I should’ve known something was wrong, and I didn’t. I lived my entire adult life at two extremes. I spent most of it chasing the life I thought I wanted. Then once I got it, I spent all my time trying to figure out how to live in it and not lose my mind. I didn’t realize that I didn’t love him. I thought, ‘Well, Jane, you’re not sixteen anymore, love isn’t necessarily what you thought it was. Just because you don’t hear “Dream Weaver” in your head every time he walks in the room doesn’t mean you don’t love him.’ Do you believe that? I’m such a moron.”

“You’re not a moron. And I repeat, you don’t suck at life.”

“Who sucks at life?” a voice asked from behind Meg. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Cara couldn’t sleep, either. Meg was suddenly reminded of the slumber parties they used to have in junior high. She wondered how those little girls would feel knowing that the future versions of themselves would be reduced to strangers who had no problem tearing each other to shreds and then locking themselves in separate rooms, cursing each other in the silence.

Cara sat on the floor and crossed her legs under her. “You guys couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“I was trying. But Keith Richards over here felt like having a nightcap,” Meg said. “Now I’m trying to convince her she doesn’t suck at life in the middle of the night, and honestly I am too old for all of this.” She turned her attention back to Jane, her wineglass empty already. How Jane managed to drink so much and still stay coherent was beyond her. If Meg had more than two glasses in the course of one night she felt unsteady on her feet and unable to control her chaotic emotions. It was one of the reasons she didn’t drink a lot anymore. “Anyway, can we please go back to bed now?” she asked. A yawn began to rise up in her throat, escaping her mouth like a growl.

“I’m a horrible person. I am, and it’s okay to say it,” Jane said, her eyes heavy with fatigue and alcohol. “The tabloids have all basically said it. My neighbors say it. My former friends think it. The coffee chick in Amagansett thinks it; I could tell by the way she was looking at me. She didn’t even offer me a napkin when the tea spilled all over me. Did you notice that? She probably wanted me to burn. She was probably chanting ‘Burn, bitch, burn’ in her head, because she thought that that’s what I deserved. You guys don’t need to feel bad saying it to my face. My husband stole from pension funds and retirement funds that good, honest people had worked their whole lives to build. He stole from them, and unapologetically spent their money on frivolous things that nobody needs—like these boobs. I was too damn stupid to put the puzzle pieces together. I suck at life bad.”

“I suck at life more,” Cara said.

“No, you don’t. Why is everything always a competition with you?” Jane asked. “You can’t even let me be the worst at something.”

“I’m just saying I’m no better than you are. Neither one of us picked the right guy. Neither one of us listened to ourselves when we knew something wasn’t right. Now we’re both hiding out in Meg’s house and she doesn’t like either of us. If you suck at life, then so do I.”

“That’s not true,” Meg said. “I like you guys.”

“No, you love us. You don’t like us. It’s not the same thing,” Jane replied. “It’s okay. I know, I deserve it. I’ve been a shitty friend to you guys. Did you hear that, Cara? That would be the sound of me apologizing.”

“Yes, I heard you. And I forgive you,” Cara said.

“Do you really? Do you mean that?” Jane asked. “Or are you just trying to placate me because I’m smashed and you want me to go to sleep?”

“I do. And I’m sorry that I said such nasty things to you. I guess I still harbor a lot of anger over losing you as a friend. I had to let the anger out before I could deal with any of my other emotions. I regretted the words as soon as I said them.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what happened between us,” Jane said, the alcohol making her more honest than she’d ever have been without it. “I think it’s time I come clean about a few things. If I’d done it years ago, maybe we’d all have very different lives.”