On the Rocks(85)

“I made a mistake. I don’t think that means I should be dragged out back and flogged.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” I whispered, staring at the wilting nachos, trying to figure out how to rescue them from their now-soggy state and how to restore peace between my friends.

But mostly I wanted to fix the nachos. I didn’t want anything to do with this argument.

“That’s what you have to say? ‘Everyone makes mistakes’? We women are supposed to stick together. I thought you appreciated that more than anyone, Abby. I can’t believe either of you. I’m sorry, I have to go.” Lara jammed her feet into her flip-flops and headed for the door.

“Lara, wait. I know this is awkward, and I don’t blame you for being upset, but Grace isn’t your husband’s secretary.”

“I’m no one’s secretary, I’m a lawyer,” Grace said smugly. It was bad enough Lara was attacking her character, she wasn’t about to let her disbar her as well.

“Not now, Grace,” I hissed.

“You don’t get it. You haven’t been married, so you can’t understand,” Lara snapped. Here we go again, playing the married card. I was waiting for the day when it was “you haven’t been married, so you don’t know how to clean out closets,” or, “you haven’t been married, you don’t know how to cook a chicken.” The fact that I actually don’t know how to cook a chicken is completely irrelevant.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you,” I said, hoping that my understanding (even though I’d never been married) would somehow keep Lara from having the nervous breakdown she was clearly heading toward. “I think it’s amazing that you had the strength to walk away and start over and rebuild your life. You’ve done everything I’ve had such a hard time doing.”

“Too bad Johnny’s wife isn’t more like you,” Grace added. “My life would be a hell of a lot easier.”

“Not now, Grace!” I snapped.

“And I’m sure that’s what his wife is worried about. How to make your life easier.”

Lara blew through the front door with such force I was afraid she’d ripped a hole in the screen. Grace and I stared at each other in shock. I felt awful for Lara and understood her rage, but Grace was my friend, and I wasn’t going to abandon her for being stupid. If she’d done that to me, I’d have lost her long ago. Before either of us said a word, Wolf and Bobby walked into the living room, holding a large plastic bag of freshly filleted striped bass. “Hey, girls,” Wolf said as he threw the bag in the fridge. “We had an amazing time on the water. I caught spotted bass!”

“Striped bass,” Bobby said. “If you’d caught spotted bass, we’d have to call the FDA.”

“Oh, sorry, right,” Wolf said. “Anyway, they’re going to be yummy.”

Bobby popped a beer and collapsed on the couch in the same place where Lara had been sitting before she ran out of there like Grace and I were chairwomen of the “Destroy the First Wives” Club.

“So what did we miss?”





Chapter 21



Holy Rollers Sit to the Right




I WOKE UP the next morning and knew that even though I wasn’t scheduled to work, I needed to talk to Lara. I hesitated as I entered the store. Lara was behind the register, flipping through receipts. The argument had gotten so heated so quickly the day before that I wasn’t even sure what happened, and I had no idea what to expect when I showed up at the store unannounced. I didn’t know if we were still friends, or even if I still had a job. I couldn’t blame her for being angry at Grace, or at her husband, or at life in general, but being mad at me seemed like a bit of a stretch. I mean, I considered it a victory if I talked to a guy in a bar. It was a very long leap from that to adultery.

“How’s it going?” I asked as I faced her across the counter, tracing a groove in the counter surface with my finger. There were boxes of cheese plates and ceramic lobster pitchers stacked on the floor next to her. I picked up one of the boxes and began to remove the contents, figuring that if I could be productive she’d be less likely to fire me for being friends with the enemy.

“I’ve been better,” she said flatly, still staring at the receipts, though not seeming to read them. She was apparently deep in thought. Most likely bad ones.

“Sorry, Lara. I didn’t know anything about what happened to you, and it’s none of my business. I don’t want to pry, but if you want to talk about anything, I’m here to listen.”

“It’s stupid,” she said, finally peeling her gaze from the small stack of paper in front of her and taking a sip from a bottle of iced tea.

“I doubt that. Getting divorced isn’t a small thing. Getting divorced for these reasons has got to be awful.”

She stared down at her hand as she drummed her fingers on the counter, and I realized that her left hand was naked. She rubbed her ring finger, now twisting an invisible band, an act I’m sure she had done millions of times over the last few years, and you know what they say about bad habits dying hard. Like Bobby and his smoking, or Grace and Johnny, or me and too many things to list at the moment. She noticed me looking at her hand. She said, “After yesterday’s meltdown, I finally decided it was time to take them off. I put them in a drawer. Poetic, don’t you think? Those rings were supposed to symbolize the most important commitment I’d ever make in my life, and now they’re in a drawer next to my underwear.”