I need some breakup advice.” Angelica accepts her plate from our favorite Freddy’s waitress—whom I now refer to as Cruella the Gruel Slogger—and removes her pink tweed Prada jacket, draping it casually but deliberately label-side out on the back of the chair. There is nothing more pretentious than the blatant subtlety of a socialite.
Caitlin points a fluffy-mittened hand toward Sadie. “Don’t ask Sadie to help. All you have to do is look at her and you know she is smack happy in love.”
Sadie smiles shyly. Happiness is indeed written all over her face.
“Slaphappy.” I correct Caitlin with the edge I have adopted since my conference with Rae. Not even my large bowl of coffee softens the stark truth revealed that day. I so need to step out of this version of my life.
“Meeeowwww.” Angelica motions cat claws, indicating my feisty mood is now not only in my head but out on the breakfast table for all to judge.
Caitlin’s eyes are half-covered by yet another hat. A rainbow-colored knit afro has replaced the long-gone non. “Oooohh. Guess who should offer breakup advice? I’d say Mari is in just the right mood.”
“Fine.” I don’t even try to argue. Bring on the ridiculous dating situation Angelica wants to present so I can wallow over her active love life rather than dwell on my nonexistent one. And why does Angelica always get to present our dilemma topic?
Angelica nods, glad that my bad mood will serve her well. “Perfect.” She pushes up her white poplin sleeves and then slides her silver charm bracelet to rest near her elbow, saving it from dipping in her granola with banana chips.
“It’s my regional corporate partner, Josie.” She hisses so the sound of her partner’s disliked name can sink in. “She is driving me crazy and I must get away from her. She is ruining my reputation.”
“Goodness! Not your reputation. Do tell.” I place my hand to my forehead in Scarlett O’Hara fashion to mock her openly. If she wants to exploit my mood, so be it.
“It’s true. I was all set to start dating this fantastic doctor from the clinic on Centennial. He travels a lot for Doctors Without Borders, and I’m pretty sure he is interested in me.”
“Are you sure that isn’t Doctors Without Boundaries?” I make my judgment known. “Shouldn’t you keep ‘client’ and ‘boyfriend’ as two separate entities?” I use the double finger quote/unquote gesture for added emphasis.
“Well, you don’t have to worry. Josie-Nosey mentioned my faith to the doctor.” Angelica’s fear of public faith has turned into a phobia.
“So what terrible thing happened? You know, it isn’t the end of the world if people realize you actually believe in God. Maybe she saved you from going out with someone who is completely void of faith…or anti-faith…” I pause to take a poll. “Which is worse, do you think?”
“Anti-faith.”
“Both no good.”
Angelica interrupts my runaway commentary. “As it turns out, he’s a Christian. A deacon at his church even. So that’s that.” She wipes away granola crumbs and the chance at romance in one motion.
“So while the rest of us would give anything to connect with a Christian guy, let alone a doctor, you find this combination to be repulsive?” Even though I first challenged the ethics of the situation, my devil’s advocate persona has jumped to the other side. I cannot help but pick apart her line of reasoning.
“He’d expect too much. You know, serious dating, marriage, kids. The whole package. That is so far from what I want. So, Josie has to go.”
What’s written on Angelica’s face is easy for me to read because she and I have had a few soul-searching discussions about this very thing. Angelica’s darkest fear isn’t that a guy will want the whole package. Her fear is that a good Christian guy, doctor or not, will not want her whole package, including emotional scars she is slow to release after early years of rebellion.
“Wait a minute.” Sadie holds up a strong, manicured hand. “Didn’t we just have a series of conversations about Josie? When we discussed how to make friends with other women in this day of female envy and cutthroat competition?”
“Yes! Good call, Sadie. I knew her name sounded familiar.” I continue this conversation to save Angelica from discussing the real problem.
“And that advice was great,” interjects Angelica. “I met Josie for lunches to get a feel for the friendship, just like you suggested. And then we went out after work a few times, just as you suggested. And my boss eventually noted my efforts at camaraderie. So it was perfect. But what you all forgot to mention was that courting a woman friend has the same natural curve of interest as dating men.” She shrugs and opens her hands out in the pose of helplessness.
“So we helped you make friends with this Josie and now you want to break up with her? Can you break up with friends?” Caitlin looks worried and turns her pitiful question in my direction.
“Apparently, if we no longer serve a purpose, we begin to slide down that natural curve.”
Caitlin rotates her rainbow head-puff around the circle to see if we are playing with her. The anxiety is rising to her flushed cheeks and her middle-child appeaser is kicking in. “You know what I do when I get mad at Mary Margaret?”
“Who?”
“You know, my coworker.”
“The scary one?” I am shocked that a woman who wears dog collars and growls at her customers is named something as innocent as Mary Margaret.
“Exactly. And that is why it is hard to like her. Not because I am competing with her for a promotion, but because she is just so very mean. Anyway, I pray a lot about it.”
“Sure, prayer. I can do that. But can I pray for Josie to quit?” Angelica’s statement makes us all hope that our names are never mentioned in her evening prayers.
“There’s another thing I do that helps. You might like it, Angelica. Sometimes I daydream about going ice-skating. In my fantasy the store’s owner, Linda, has invited all of the employees to the ice-skating rink. As an exercise in bonding or something. Well, nobody can skate, right? Because we all live in the desert. And while everybody else is falling down,” Caitlin smiles and starts to giggle at what is about to happen in her dream, “I am stalling, pretending I cannot lace my skates. Then all of a sudden the song ‘Friends Are Friends Forever’ by Michael W. Smith comes over the loudspeaker. You all remember that one, right?”
“Yes.” We all admit. And though a few Christian camp talent night solos of this song clutter my mind, soon the Muzak version floods my brain. This I don’t admit.
Caitlin continues, breathless and lost in the moment. “And as the first chorus begins, I rise, step over the crumpled bodies, and begin to skate like Michelle Kwan. Everyone is moved spiritually by the words and moved emotionally by the power of my moves. My last figure eight before the triple axle finale is done around Mary Margaret and Linda. I see the tears streaming down their faces, and Mary Margaret begs Linda to give me the promotion because I am beautiful, talented, and the most inspiring thing ever.” As Caitlin’s arms reach out to accept imagined applause we notice the flaw of her latest fashion choice. The funky hat is connected to the fuzzy mittens by a crocheted scarf. It is an all-in-one unit. As her arms stretch wide and the scarf starts to tighten around her thin neck, the need for a choking hazard warning is apparent.
But we don’t say this. We are all too stunned to speak. Not because we think her daydream to be demented, but because she admitted to the warped fantasies we all have.
“If you think I am going to waste a daydream on Josie, you are nuts. I’ll break up the old-fashioned way.”
“Flowers?”
“A phone call?”
“No call?”
We all offer leftovers from past breakups.
“No. The ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech, only I will wear my new Gucci dress with my new Kate Spade bag, and it will be so obvious it is her and not me.”
This, of course, is the perfect way for Angelica to end it. We agree in silence, stirring our coffees and rearranging the last bits of breakfast on our plates.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” As Sadie reaches into her Louis Vuitton briefcase, she is gleeful. I didn’t even know glee still existed in our culture of personal angst and drama. But here it is, right in front of me, all rosy and optimistic. She distributes silver metallic envelopes tied with deep blue ribbons.
“No, you didn’t.” I challenge my friend, wondering if she is about to request the honor of our presence for her nuptials.
She blushes ever so slightly and shakes her head. “Don’t you think I would introduce you all to him if we were headed into that level of relationship?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I have never seen you in loooove before, so it’s hard to say what you would do.”
“A fancy night out.” Caitlin has opened her invitation and is reading it out loud. “Stare into the mystery. A night of exploration and discovery awaits you as the Tucson Botanical Society unveils the Carson Curtis Midnight Garden for Gazers featuring the Galaxy Telescope, nature’s most romantic show of light and wonder, a rare nighttime garden, and the chance to dine and dance among the stars.” She holds the linen paper to her heart as she imagines a night of opulence and catered eats.
“So this is the unveiling of Carson as well?” I inquire, draining the last bit of caffeine from my mega cup.
Angelica turns to me and points to Sadie with her fork. “I seem to recall Ms. Verity stating that if a wedding was in her future, we would meet the man. Did you catch that?” She teases warmly, daring Sadie to admit to love.
“I did indeed hear that, Angelica. Good point.” We look to our friend in unison and she laughs.
But she doesn’t deny it.
The rare occurrence of cold weather chills us as we step out of the restaurant. It isn’t the best time for true blue Southwesterners, but I personally love the chance to pull on favorite sweaters from my D.C. days. I tug on a J. Crew cable-knit to cover the increasing expanse of skin between my jeans and my tops.
“Hey, Caitlin.” Angelica is smiling, but we all know she is about to give her friend a hard time. “This new creation…the scarf thing…it is for urban women, right?”
“Urban and trendy,” she clarifies.
“Pretend you have to hail a cab.”
I should close my eyes, but my morbid curiosity keeps them open to watch as the obvious happens. Caitlin’s overzealous arm shoots straight up in the air and the scarf strangles her midsentence. “What’s this got to do with hai….eecchhhhh.” She doubles over coughing.
“You know, Caitlin, I would never break up with you. You provide way too much humor in my life.”
“Maybe I’ll just have the hat and scarf attached.”
“Good call.” With that Angelica pats the top of Caitlin’s head and links her arm through the arm of her unintentional comedian friend.
“So Matthew next time?” Try, try again.
“Matthew.” Three nods of agreement return my effort.
As Caitlin and Angelica head off to a movie, I check my home messages. Some guy named Lazarus wants to know if I received his flat of daffodils.
I am perplexed. “Sadie, is there like some big fund-raiser going on with the Botanical Society? I keep getting calls from men about flowers.”
When she hears about some of the messages, she grows concerned and promises to find out if any other organizations have phone campaigns going on. “If not, Mari, you need to change your number. That makes me really uncomfortable.”
I stare at my friend’s face and take note of every fine feature. How can someone be so delicate and strong? I wonder if it is her strength that makes her reluctant to confess her obvious feelings about Carson.
“Sadie, just between us…”
She knows what I am asking. “Just between us…if I can just let myself believe a man as good as Carson not only exists but actually loves me, I know this is it. I’ve never thought in terms of marrying. My work has been so fulfilling, and it seems every year I have had more responsibility and success…”
“You might keep that part to yourself.”
“What I mean is, somewhere along the way I started to believe it would have to be one or the other. Happiness at work or happiness in relationships.”
I want to dispute this theory by stating that I am unhappy in both, so logic would follow that one could feasibly be happy in both. But that would be making her happiness all about my unhappiness, yet another habit I am trying to quit.
“You will be able to come to the event, won’t you? I’ll deal with the comments from the peanut gallery, but it is most important to me that you really like him, Mari. You are my sanest, wisest friend. I trust you.”
This confession tells me that Sadie doesn’t know me very well, but I accept her compliment graciously so she won’t suspect her trust is misplaced.
As we each walk to our cars, I think how sharing these crazy fantasies and distorted theories is exactly why we have friends we can be totally honest with…and why the best of friends also keep your secrets.