No rice, no bread, no starch carbs, no dairy. Let’s see, what else?” Sadie counts on her fingers the foods she is eliminating from her diet for the next six months.
“No fun,” Angelica mumbles, devouring another french fry. “So po-taw-toes are out?”
“They are about as starchy a carb as you can order. It all comes down to numbers. That’s Reneé’s theory, and it obviously works for her. Calories in and calories out. I’ve decided not to look at losing weight as an emotional thing. I’m too sensible for that. If I examine my nutrition as a matter of math—pure mathematics—I can handle it.”
“You and Zellweger are on a first name basis now?”
Sadie gives me a sideways “not the point” look.
“Here’s some math for you, Sadie. You need to lose zero pounds. You look fabulous.” Angelica extends a no-cal offering of sweet praise, but Sadie refuses even that.
Caitlin reaches over to grab one of Angelica’s starch bombs. “It’s nice having Freddies to ourselves again.”
“Yeah. Tuesday night is the only time this place is empty anymore. I miss Samantha,” I lament.
“Who?” Sadie nibbles at her Cobb salad.
“Our former waitress, Cruella the Gruel Slogger. She only does the morning shift.”
They all nod and we reminisce about the days when we gathered weekly. Pre-engagement. Before Beau and I were serious. Back when Angelica dated with a vengeance, and Caitlin wore the craziest concoctions trying to find the style that would put her on the fashion map. Well—wears. Today she has on a rubber vest the texture of corkboard. And earrings that resemble bottle caps. I think “Dumpster Diva” but leave it in my humor-for-self-only mental files; they need to be purged soon.
“How are the business plans?” I ask the friend I feel the least connected to lately.
“And how is Jim the Cop?” Angelica inquires.
“Those weeks of no calls—turns out he was visiting his grandmother, who is on her deathbed in a small town in Central Mexico. No phones! We have a date next week.”
“Great.” I cheer.
Sadie, who has been lost in thought for a moment, points her fork in Caitlin’s direction. “Carson thought he saw you on an airport shuttle. But when I quizzed him he said the woman had matching pieces of luggage. I told him, ‘You don’t know Caitlin. She tries never to match.’ Then he laughed…”
“It was me,” she says sheepishly as she raises a piece of falafel to her lips.
“What?” we ask in unison. Apparently none of us know Caitlin these days.
She puts down her utensils and leans in. “You know Isabel Rossi, that woman in New York who helped us price for the fashion show?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she invited me to see her setup in New York.” Caitlin’s eyes get big. “It was fabulous, you guys. Her collection of vintage and contemporary clothing truly is to die for. And she does tremendous business as a high-priced specialty buyer. I think I could do it. With Isabel’s established roster of wealthy women, she barely has to leave her incredible, luxurious apartment in Manhattan to promote the business. It is…”
I interrupt, “But inquiring minds want to know why you didn’t tell any of us. You know we all love to live vicariously through one another when it involves travel.”
“I’m considering going into business with her. She would like to extend her line and her clientele to the daughters of these women and to the up-and-comers on the New York fashion scene.”
Sadie waves her napkin to give us all air. “Oh, Caitlin. They won’t pay attention to what you are doing in Tucson. They only want something from Europe or…”
“I would move to New York.”
There is a serious silence as we all catch up to this news.
I turn the situation back to me. “I thought all your hours…let me rephrase that, our hours at the library were so you could start a clothing store here.”
“Amen!” shouts Angelica. The fry-grease that she only eats when it can tempt Sadie seems to be giving her unearthly energy. She claps her hands in succession like one of those organ grinder monkeys with cymbals. I want to set her free, but I am too busy trying to imagine how Caitlin, who dresses to her own beat but depends on everyone else’s opinion for everything from toothpaste to apartment decor, has pursued a business venture on her own.
“Now I know how your mom felt the first time you used a rope ladder to escape your bedroom to go dance in dilapidated discotheques.” I exaggerate a dab to my eyes with a napkin—but I mean it. Just a little bit.
“Do Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez know about this?” Sadie refers to Caitlin’s parents this way because they happen to be two of her biggest donors for the Tucson Botanical Society. They each give from their respective bank accounts every quarter.
Caitlin looks up with her big brown eyes and long lashes. Her mouth shifts to one side. She looks twelve. “Not yet. But they are the reason I am considering this. Somehow they got wind of my desire to open a store.” She scans our faces looking for guilt. “Now they want to finance it to secure my future so I don’t make a disaster of my credit record in the business community.”
“If you take away the put-down part, that is really quite nice.”
“But with my parents you cannot omit the parts you don’t like. You have to say ‘Hey, this is worth it just like it is. Just like they are,’ and go from there. That is how I survive my relationship with them.”
“Parents like to help their kids. It’s natural.” I feel myself stepping over to the wrong side of this argument. My friend needs support, but I don’t want her to leave.
“Speak for yourself,” mumbles Angelica, who has moved on to an order of onion rings.
“Instead of calling it bad, consider that they might want this opportunity as an investment. They believe in what you are doing enough to back it financially.” Sadie raises her eyebrows like a parent trying to convince a grade-schooler that maybe liver is the superfood of Olympic gold medalists.
“I still want to claim my purpose. Isn’t doing the right thing in this case about doing it on my own and not relying on my parents? I want to show them I can depend on God in my life and that happiness isn’t about the numbers in my bank account or my credit rating, but about how faithful I am to my calling.”
“Now, that thinking could be a bit dangerous. God doesn’t want you in debt.” Sadie is missing the point. I make eye contact with her and shake my head.
I jump back over to Caitlin’s side of life and extend a hand to shake. “We will support you and your leap of faith, Caitlin.”
Silence returns. We eat our desserts with effort and unease. Nobody wants to imagine what life would be like if our perfect table of four turned into an awkward party of three.