From the Jump(22)

“Eventually. But he’s so . . .”

“Chiseled?” It’s probably not the right thing to focus on, but facts are facts. Mac’s underwear ad made me want to lick the glossy page, and I’ve seen him eat an entire hot dog in one bite and then burp like a mating call for whales.

“Exactly.” She smiles gratefully. “He’s so very chiseled. It’s confusing, you know?”

I nod sympathetically, even though I don’t find it confusing at all. Mac won the lottery when he got Phoebe, and true to form, he was too stupid to hold onto her. I don’t care how much fun he is to be around. Phoebe deserves better.

“Did anything happen?” I ask.

“No. And it can’t.” She squints at me. “Can it?”

No.

This time, I hold the word in, even though it takes considerable restraint. “Do you think you’re capable of being friends with benefits with him?”

“I doubt it,” she admits. “There’s too much history there.”

“Do you want to get back together?” I brace myself.

“Definitely not,” she says firmly. “I love Mac to death, but if he broke my heart again, I’d have to kill him. And I can’t go to prison. I look great in a jumpsuit, but even I can’t make an outfit sparkle if I’m not allowed to add accessories.”

I exhale my relief.

“Do you not want us to get back together?” She peers at me curiously.

“It’s not my call.” I avert my eyes, embarrassed that I’ve been so obvious in my reaction.

“If you have something to say, Liv, please say it.” There’s no sarcasm in her tone. If anything, there’s a pleading quality that’s contrary to her usual confidence. “I need a friend’s advice right now.”

I hesitate, comparing how I’m supposed to respond with how I want to. Finally, I decide to brave the latter. “You and Mac were good together. And if you think it could be good again, I’d be happy for you. But selfishly, I’m scared of what would happen if the two of you fell out. I don’t think the group could survive it again.”

I stop myself before admitting how crucial these people are to my life. That they’re the closest I’ve ever felt to being a part of something. It would put way too much pressure on Phoebe.

“I know exactly what you mean,” she says, sinking into the lounger. “I was worried about the same thing when we broke up. And then, last night! Liv, you have no idea how much I was panicking when Deiss said you were staying in his room. I was convinced the two of you were going to hook up and, after that, we’d lose you for sure.”

I wave off the thought, surprised by the change in focus. “It wasn’t like that at all. But why would that make me lost?”

“Oh, you know how it is. Deiss tends to take a kind of love-them-and-leave-them approach to women. And you tend to go cold when you’ve finished with someone. It’s not like I’m worried about either of you getting emotionally involved, but I can’t picture a scenario where you don’t both end up retreating. And that doesn’t really work for a group like ours, does it?”

I nod eagerly. Obviously, she’s way off base about Deiss and me, but she’s not wrong about the rest of it. “That’s exactly what I’m saying about you and Mac. When you two broke up and you never wanted to see him again, it meant I was never going to see him again. And I could handle that if that’s how it had to be, but it wasn’t that simple, was it? Because where Mac is, Deiss is. And Simone has a bunch of sorority sisters and a weakness for handsome men, so she’s not exactly likely to choose time with us over Mac and Deiss. It’s all just a domino chain, waiting to fall.”

“It is. And me seeing Mac naked again has made the first domino teeter.”

“Exactly.”

“But we can’t let them fall,” she says emphatically. “Olivia Bakersfield, we must keep the dominos upright!”

I lean back a little in the face of this sudden zealousness. I’m not quite sure how this benign conversation warrants declarations involving full names.

“Hear me out,” Phoebe says, holding up a hand. “Now, I’m not saying we have to be some creepy cult where we all get to tell each other what to do. However, as a group, we’re all basically in a relationship, right? Just because it’s not one person and not romantic doesn’t mean it’s not a relationship. And, like any relationship, one person can’t only take themselves into consideration when making a decision.”

“Okay?” I’m pretty sure, if there’s an actual need to specify the difference between your own philosophy and that of a creepy cult’s, something has gone off the rails. But it’s Phoebe doing the specifying, so I’m not prepared to argue quite yet.

“Do I sound crazy?” she asks. “Because I actually think this is really going to help me.”

“Is it?”

“Monkeys!” She shrieks the word.

Truthfully, she is starting to sound a little crazy.

“Behind you,” Phoebe says, gesturing toward the knobby pieces of wood functioning as a railing to the patio. She jumps to her feet.

I turn slowly and am shocked to discover not one monkey but three. They’ve got gray backs and fluffy white fronts and are scampering up the trunk and fronds of the tree in front of us. One peers at me with its tiny black face. Without conscious decision, I rise to greet it. It screeches, and I feel a thrill go through me. I’ve never seen a monkey so close, and certainly not one just hanging out like it has arrived to have coffee with us. Its friend swings from one branch to the next, chattering loudly.