The Friendship List(17)

The words were like a physical blow. Ellen felt sick to her stomach. Was she wrong about every relationship in her life?

“I didn’t realize that caring and concern came at a price in our friendship,” Ellen told her, hoping her heart wasn’t really breaking. “It would be helpful if you’d send me some kind of accounting so I could see what you think I’ve paid for and what I haven’t. That way I won’t make the mistake of coming to you for help when there’s not enough credit in my account.”

She turned then and ran out of the house. She got in her car and drove home, then locked herself in her bedroom where she curled up, pulling her knees to her chest, and started to cry.



five


Righteous indignation got Unity through most of the morning. She couldn’t believe how horrible Ellen had been and the awful things she’d said. They were family—you’d think Ellen would remember that. But by noon, Unity started to question what had happened and was thinking maybe she could have been a little more supportive.

Ellen had been her best friend her whole life. Before Unity’s parents had been killed in a car crash, she and Ellen had split their time between their two houses, understanding that when they were at Ellen’s place, there were lots of rules and when they were at Unity’s, they could do whatever they wanted.

After working in the garden for a while, she went inside for lunch, only to find she wasn’t really hungry. In fact, she felt more than a little sick to her stomach. Instead of seeing the contents of her refrigerator, she saw the tall, solemn-eyed policeman telling her that her parents weren’t going to be coming home.

She’d been thirteen—old enough to understand but too young to truly process the information. She shut the refrigerator and sank down on the floor as she remembered Ellen and her parents holding her tight as she sobbed out her pain. She’d gone to live with Ellen and her folks—there’d never been a question of that. Although she had her own room, for the first year, she’d slept with Ellen, her friend hugging her when Unity woke screaming from the nightmares.

Years later, Ellen had helped her plan every part of her small, inexpensive wedding to Stuart. They’d made the centerpieces themselves, after they’d finished the beading on Unity’s dress. Ellen had been her maid of honor and Ellen had emailed her every single day that Stuart was deployed. And yes, when Unity had once again opened her front door to find stern-faced men waiting to tell her Stuart was gone, Ellen had dropped everything to fly out to South Carolina and bring her home. Because Ellen showed her love by doing. She always had.

Unity leaned against the cabinets and closed her eyes as the uncomfortable truth wormed its way into her soul. Ellen had needed her and she hadn’t been there. Worse, Ellen had asked for help and Unity had practically laughed in her face as she told her to get over herself. So what if she didn’t think what Coop had said was a big deal? Ellen did and wasn’t that what mattered? Only the things Ellen had said—they had been awful.

Unity forced herself to her feet, made her way out to her work van and drove to Silver Pines.

She’d joined the Saturday afternoon Moving on After Loss grief group shortly after coming home. The group met in one of the community center rooms. A licensed therapist acted as facilitator, but there was no set agenda. People were allowed to talk or not talk, sharing as they liked. Just being with other people who had gone through what she had made her feel less alone.

About a year ago they’d gotten a new facilitator—Carmen. She was a fortysomething woman with dark hair and eyes, and a calming way about her.

Unity walked into the community center room and saw there were about fifteen people attending today. She greeted everyone as she made her way to the coffee machine in the back. Every few weeks someone new joined, but today all the faces were familiar.

When Carmen announced it was time, they took their seats in the loose circle formed by their chairs. Carmen welcomed them and asked who wanted to share. Unity tried to listen but kept finding her attention slipping back to her fight with Ellen. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she’d been wrong.

Just considering the possibility made her sick to her stomach again.

“Unity?”

Unity realized everyone was looking at her. She glanced at Carmen. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“I could tell. Want to talk about it?”

“She’s thinking about Stuart,” Veronica, a short, plump woman in her seventies said with an eye roll. “It’s what she’s always thinking about.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him,” Unity said, surprised by the harsh statement. “Although this is a grief group. Isn’t dealing with the loss of my husband the point?”

The pain of missing him joined her regret and guilt about Ellen. None of this was supposed to have happened, she thought bitterly. She was supposed to be happily married and the mother of two or three kids by now. But she was left with nothing but memories and the flag that had draped his coffin.

Veronica sighed heavily. “No, it’s not. Because you’re not dead yet, despite how you act. Yes, you lost your husband, and it’s tragic, but come on. You’re not the only one. We’ve all lost someone. You’re acting like this is some unique event only you have experienced. It’s not like your pain is any bigger than ours, no matter how much you love reveling in it.”