Lost Along the Way(55)

“I don’t know how,” Cara said. “I don’t know how to start over.”

“I do,” Jane said. She hopped off the couch and grabbed the last bottle of wine from the bar cart. She opened it and returned to her seat, filling each glass with a healthy slug of white. “Let’s toast.”

“To what? How much we all suck at life?” Cara asked.

“No—to friendships that are worth more than any argument. And to women who may be in pretty f*cked-up predicaments at the moment, but who nonetheless are trying to pull themselves together. I think it’s time we start over without having to pretend. I’d like you both to know that I am a complete mess. I’m totally and completely f*cked up.”

“So I heard,” Cara said.

“I read that in a magazine, actually,” Meg added.

“Good. All cards on the table. What do you guys say?” Jane asked.

Meg and Cara stayed silent, each of them waiting for some sign from the other that sins would be forgiven. Finally, Cara spoke. “I’d like that,” she said.

“Okay,” Meg said. “Maybe you’re right. I guess it’s time we leave the past in the past.”

They clinked their glasses together and took a sip, and then sat in silence for a minute.

“Am I the only one who’d like to see some of these letters?” Cara asked, reaching for the box.

“I’d love to. I always liked Steve. It makes me happy to know that he at least is as good as he seemed,” Jane added.

“Yeah,” Meg said quietly. “He really is.” She removed a letter from the box and without hesitation began to read.





nineteen


Meg woke early in the morning despite barely sleeping and slipped down into the kitchen to make muffins for breakfast. It felt strange having houseguests, but so good to have a reason to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. She scooped coffee out of the bag and poured the grinds into the large old-fashioned coffeepot she kept stored in the hall closet but hadn’t used in years. She removed the canisters of flour and sugar from the cabinet and began measuring ingredients for muffins. Soon the smell of coffee began to waft through the house, and as she expected, Jane appeared in the kitchen in search of a cure for her hangover.

“That is the biggest coffeepot I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jane said. She grabbed a mug from the kitchen cabinet and stood in front of the percolator, inhaling the aroma.

“It comes in handy when you have houseguests. I haven’t used it in a while,” Meg admitted.

“And you’re making muffins now? If I had your job, I’d weigh two hundred pounds. How do you stay so thin?”

“I don’t know. I give a lot of this stuff away, or stash it in the freezer. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about the calories. When was the last time someone made you breakfast?”

“I can’t remember.” Jane reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “I can’t remember the last time I breathed this much fresh air.”

“That’s sad.”

“Lots of things in my life are sad. That said, I’m really happy we’re here. Thanks again for letting us stay. I don’t know where we would have gone without you.”

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“What’s nothing?” Cara asked. She appeared in the doorway in her pajamas looking well rested and much more relaxed than she had seemed when she’d arrived the day before. Meg wasn’t surprised. Ocean air had a way of sucking the stress out of you without your even knowing it. It was one of the things she loved most about the beach. Meg pulled another coffee mug from the cabinet and filled it, then handed it to Cara.

“So you made us breakfast, too? You didn’t have to do that,” she said. She took a long sip from her mug. “God, this tastes good.”

“Don’t look a gift muffin in the mouth,” Jane joked.

“Are you helping?” Cara playfully asked Jane. “Because if you’re involved in the making of these muffins, I think I’ll go to town and get bagels.”

“Hey! I think maybe you forgot what happened the last time you made a comment like that.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Cara challenged.

“Oh my God. No. I just cleaned in here!” Meg said.

“Wouldn’t I?” Jane asked, a glint that had disappeared a long time ago returning to her eye. She plunged her hand into the canister of flour. “Admit those brownies were good. Admit it!” she ordered.

“Jane, we aren’t kids anymore. We are too old for this kind of stuff!” Cara said.

“Admit it or I swear to God I’ll do it. I am nowhere near too old for this stuff and you know it.”

“Okay! They were awesome,” Cara agreed. “Even if you forgot the marshmallows.”

January 1997

“Come on in. She’s sleeping on the couch,” Cara’s mother said when she opened the front door. “It’s so sweet of you guys to do this.”

“How’s she doing?” Jane asked as they stood in the foyer, speaking in hushed voices.

“She’s hanging in there. The doctor said it will be six weeks until she can start rehab, and the drugs he gave her are helping with the pain. I think more than anything she’s just depressed she’s stuck on the couch for a while.”