On the Rocks(96)

“Grace, you’re just upset,” I said, trying to talk her out of making an epically bad decision. I knew this look of desperation. I’d been there. And if you’re allowed to act on that emotion, regret always follows.

“I know,” Grace said in a small voice, tears welling in her eyes. “Rationally, I know. But the heart wants what the heart wants.”

Grace’s phone buzzed. She snatched it off the table.

“Thank God, it’s him,” Grace said. I grabbed her free hand and stared into her eyes.

“What happened to you being done with this? Grace, please just tell him to go kill himself and get on with your life before you waste another two years.”

“We work together,” she said. “I can’t just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“I can’t stand to watch you do this to yourself anymore. Turn it off,” I said as I reached over and took the phone from her hand. “Bobby, help me out here. Say something.”

“I want no part of this. Pretend I’m not here,” he said, apparently deciding for the first time since I met him that silence was golden. As usual, his timing was perfect.

“Give me my phone, Abby,” she hissed, not appreciating my take-charge attitude.

“Why? I thought you wanted me to take your phone from you to keep you from talking to him. That was just a few hours ago. Is that all you have in you? A few hours before you go running back?” I was aiming for tough love. I missed.

“I don’t have to defend myself to you. Give me my phone back, Abby. I mean it,” she demanded.

I underestimated the degree of Grace’s frustration, or maybe I overestimated my capacity for self-righteous indignation since I had told Ben to leave me alone for the last time. Whatever it was, it was something, and things quickly erupted.

“Fine. Let him keep you as a concubine. Whatever you want, but I think it’s pathetic.”

“Says the girl who begged her fiancé not to leave her, and what was it you said, Abby? That you’d wear cowboy boots under your wedding dress if he wanted? Excuse me if I don’t feel like taking advice from you. I don’t know where you think you get off judging anyone, all things considered.” Apparently, the gloves were off. Now it was war.

“Okay, sure. Here,” I said as I handed her the phone. Grace and I didn’t fight often, but when we did, it could get ugly. “I’m not judging,” I said as I held my hands up in the air. “You do whatever makes you happy. Hey, now that I think about it, don’t even bother texting him back. Here’s a thought: why don’t you just post your whereabouts on Facebook so that he can keep you under his thumb while he sits at his wife’s breakfast table?”

“I’ve always been a big Facebook person, and you know it! Let me remind you that if I hadn’t been on Facebook, you’d probably think you were still engaged!”

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve figured that out on my own. So going forward, do you think you could do me a favor and not post where we are at all times? Some of us don’t want our exes knowing where to find us, you know.”

“Don’t blame me for that. If he wanted to find you, all he had to do was start hanging out next to the ice cream case at the grocery store and you would’ve shown up eventually!” she screamed. Bobby just sat there, like a spectator at a tennis match, watching us fight with each other, looking too scared to move.

“Did you just call me fat? That’s so out of bounds!” Now we were standing on opposite sides of the table, screaming like crazy people.

“If the elastic waist pants fit . . .” she said smugly.

“Guys,” Bobby said. “Both of you, stop. Unless you’re going to strip down and go all Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling on me—in which case, well, as you were.”

“Shut up, Bobby,” we yelled simultaneously.

“First of all,” I said as I pointed my finger in her face, “we both know that I’ve gotten past that stage, and the fat jokes at this point are just mean. Second, what are you getting mad at me for? I’m trying to help you!”

“You should understand this better than anyone, Abby. It’s not easy to just cut all ties. You still talked to Ben after you broke up, and that was way worse. I mean, what did that guy have to do for you to walk away from him? Call off your wedding? Oh, wait . . .”

“That was low.”

“It’s the truth. Not my fault if it hurts.”

“You both are nuts, you know that?” Bobby said.

“Stay out of this, Bobby,” Grace snapped.

“No, I won’t. I’m sick of listening to both of you bitch and moan about your relationships. You guys are like a reality show! You should both just relax and get over yourselves.”

“Get over myself?” Grace hissed.

“Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why I was snapping at Bobby, other than I was too tired to differentiate emotions.

“You’re both so paranoid about being alone, it’s all you think about. You should just chill the hell out. Besides, neither one of you will ever be alone. Abby will have the spinsters in her knitting club, and Grace will probably have a dozen lobsters to keep her company.”

This had officially turned into one of the craziest conversations I had ever had. And considering some of the doozies I had had with my mother, that was saying something.