A year later, on a sunny Saturday afternoon in July, Camarin and Rachel were chatting excitedly on the platform of the White Plains train station, waiting for the 4:03 back to Manhattan. Camarin was bogged down with shopping bags from Sandel’s, the snazziest bridal shop outside Manhattan, and about half the price of the city boutiques. One package contained a pair of Christian Louboutin white-lace pumps and Oscar de la Renta crystal earrings. The dress she’d left behind for altering—a Sottero and Midgely classic A-line gown of Shavon organza, with a sweetheart neckline, and delicate spaghetti straps accented in Swarovski crystals—was everything she’d ever dreamed of. She wondered if Lyle would regret giving her a blank check in terms of a wedding budget.
“You’re losing something there,” she said to Rachel, pointing with her chin to the package that had fallen halfway from her equally stuffed bag of goodies, though hers was from an upscale lingerie boutique, not a bridal salon.
“Ah, thank you, luv. My feet are killing me. What I wouldn’t give for a Tony right now.”
“Blair, chair. You’ll sit on the train. It should be here in a few minutes—I hope.”
“I think Dee’s really going to enjoy this one,” said the receptionist, setting the bags down and pulling a leopard-print negligee from the one on the left. “He likes to play Tarzan and Jane.”
Camarin winced. “Please, you promised you wouldn’t make me listen to the gory details. He’s my former roommate and one of my closest friends, after all.”
“Yeah, well, you’re living with one of my favorite bosses, so keep your naughty bits to yourself as well.” She stuck her nose up in the air before breaking into giggles.
“Excuse me, isn’t your name Camarin?”
Oh God. Not another autograph seeker. The Mangel thing has been over for a year now.
She looked over at the heavyset woman smiling at her. She wore a low-cut dress that hugged her ample hips, and she stood confidently, waiting for Camarin to respond. There was something so familiar about the woman, but Cam couldn’t place the face.
“It’s me, Lexie. You remember...you ran after the woman who stole my Kit Kat bar.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Lexie. How are you, honey? This is my friend, Rachel.”
“Friend, coworker, bridesmaid supreme, you pick.” Rachel reached out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“It’s been like a hundred years. So much has changed. That guy who bought us the replacement chocolate? The plumber?”
Camarin nodded though the memory was vague at best. What she did remember was how Lexie had cowered in an oversized raincoat on that sunny day a year back, hiding her body from the world. Those days were clearly way behind her.
“His name is Ben. We’re engaged!”
She beamed as she held up a tiny ring on her fourth finger. Camarin kept her own hand by her side, secretly maneuvering her ring so the diamond was hidden from view. She didn’t want her five-carat rock to show up Lexie’s.
“It’s beautiful, Lexie. I’m so happy for you.”
“What’s new with you since we met?”
Camarin just grinned. What wasn’t new? Lyle had decided that Wynan was right—you can’t be something you’re not. So he sold Trend to his childhood friend and launched BAT, or Body Acceptance Today, and named Cam as developmental editor. The content, which promoted people of all sizes accomplishing their dreams and ambitions, had struck a nerve with a burgeoning circulation of readers, liberated from worry over society’s opinions of their looks or their life choices. She was engaged to the man of her dreams, living in a two-bedroom apartment he’d purchased for them in the Village. And with Dr. Eisenstodt’s help, she’d managed to put the guilt over Monaeka’s death aside and finally felt whole, as if she and her twin had melded into one stable, happy, well-adjusted woman. No flame tree or Two Lovers Point tragic ending for her. Nothing was going to keep her from the man or the future she deserved.
“Same old, same old,” answered Camarin, refusing to say anything that might upstage Lexie’s happiness.
“You like dueling-piano bars, Lexie?” asked Rachel. “My boyfriend is one of the headliners at Benji’s, and it’s a fine place for some Britneys and a Lilley. You should join us tonight. Bring Ben. We’ll make it a triple date.”
The Manhattan-bound train thundered into the station, and the three women grabbed a set of four seats, two facing two. They piled their packages onto the empty place by the window.
“It all sounds great. I’d love to, and I’m sure Ben would too. Except for one thing. What’s a Britney and a Lilley?”
“Welcome to my world,” Camarin said with a laugh. “Just go with it. It seems to all work out in the end.”
Lexie gave her a quizzical look and then shrugged.
“Why not? The best things in life are the things that drop into your life that you never expected. Like a brave woman standing up for your honor on a train platform. One minute, life is one way. And in the next, everything’s different.”
Camarin nodded, impressed by Lexie’s astute observation and so proud of how far they both had come. She sat back, closed her eyes, and remembered an old proverb that her mother used to recite when she was younger. She couldn’t recall the actual Chamorro, but she’d memorized the translation.
There is no death without an illness. There is no brightness without darkness. There is no body without a shadow. There is no death without suffering. There is no action without a reason.
This past year God had seen fit to show her the reasons for his actions. She’d learned. She’d endured. She’d come out stronger. She’d mended her relationship with her mother, and more importantly, another with herself. She’d helped Lyle come to terms with his guilt over Margaret’s suicide and its aftermath, and had led him to a different, more loving and productive path. But this was only the beginning. She grinned, picturing herself married, graduating from law school, and then devoting herself to a lifetime of delivering those lost in darkness into the light.