Sophia
I drove straight from CROO to Em’s apartment. She moved here after a dramatic break-up with the man she’d been dating for over ten years. At least I hadn’t wasted a decade with Elliott.
Em opened the door and welcomed me inside. Her dark blonde hair was perfectly blown dry, and she wore a pretty ruffled sweater with her jeans. But her feminine looks contrasted with her strict willpower and steel-trap mind. We’d met at a women’s networking lunch and immediately clicked.
Her place was pastel and spare, like a sci-fi womb. The walls and shelving were white, and she’d furnished the living room with a peachy-pink sectional and a glass coffee table. Burning pillar candles made the room smell like roses and citrus. This was the décor of a woman unleashing her personal style after living with someone else’s tastes for years.
The only incongruent element was a large white cage where Em’s new pet hedgehog lived. It was part of her multi-step program for getting over her ex, Lucas. Step 10: Get a pet to alleviate loneliness. I would have chosen a cat or dog—a pet with affection and personality. So far, the only unique thing I’d noticed about the hedgehog was his ability to spit all over himself.
But I admired Em’s certainty. She set out a plan for herself and followed it to a T. Whereas I was always vacillating over the right thing to do. Did breaking up with Elliott mean that I too should get a pet? I visualized a nice marmalade tabby or maybe a Maine Coon greeting me when I got home. But I worked so many late nights that a cat might end up being one more thing I felt guilty about.
“Is it okay with you if we order in instead of going out?” Em asked. She handed me a glass of white wine, and I took a small sip. “Abby wants to join us later.”
“Sure, that’s fine. What kind of food should we get?”
“I was thinking Thai. We could get it delivered.” She pulled out a binder with plastic sleeves of take-out menus all filed by cuisine. Marie Kondo, eat your heart out.
After ordering we sat down on her huge sectional.
“So, what was the big news you were hinting at?” Em asked.
“I got taken off the Lyon case at work.”
Em immediately understood how big this was. “Holy moly! Why?”
“Zero clue. Alexander Martin isn’t the most communicative guy at the best of times. When it comes to bad news, he’s even worse. I’ll find out more on Monday. And Ryan Heller is taking over—my number one competition to make partner.”
“That sucks. Well, it’s not like you can’t both make partner.”
“Yeah. But you know how it is, I have to be that much better than anyone with a penis.”
Em nodded. We often commiserated on what it was like to be a young female professional. Yes, I was being overdramatic. I would eventually make partner. But I was driven to do things first and best, so I wanted to be on the partnership fast track.
The food arrived, and I tipped the guy in cash.
“Why did you do that? I can tip him on the app.” Em unloaded dishes onto her round glass dining table.
“I’ve read that they don’t get the full tip from the app. Better to make sure.”
She shook her head. “You’re surprisingly socialist for a corporate lawyer.”
“People are struggling to make a decent living in the gig economy.” Like Henry. What a waste to have such a talented musician driving people around. Would life have been better for him in the time of the Medicis, when he would have been sponsored to create? But it alarmed me to think of the very attractive Henry working at the whim of some powerful and rich patroness. Unless it was me.
“They make the best tom ka gai soup.” Em slurped appreciatively.
I sniffed the steam of delicious spices and lemon grass, then dipped my spoon into its warmth. It was the best soup on a cold day. We discussed Em’s work issues. She had some sexist colleagues who were not overt enough to complain to HR, but enough to make her uncomfortable.
She wrinkled her nose. “What’s weird is that when I was with Lucas, none of this stuff happened. But once I became single, it was like these guys suddenly noticed I was a woman. Even when I’m dating someone, they don’t let up.”
“I have to fight to get cases and recognition, but luckily I haven’t had much sexual harassment.”
“You probably don’t even notice,” she replied.
“What do you mean?” I wondered.
“When we got out, I’ve noticed that you’re oblivious when men are interested. Not that I have great radar, but it’s better than yours.”
I protested, but before I had time to argue there was a knock at the door. Abby Boyko surfed in on her usual wave of positive energy.
“Hey, hey, ladies! How is everyone? We missed you last night, Sophia.”
Ugh. I wished I could turn back time and go to Abby and Mason’s party instead. Without Elliott.
“You’re early. We’re still eating,” Em said.
“Yeah. I rushed through dinner because I didn’t want to miss any girl talk.” She sailed through the kitchen and came to the table with a wine glass and a plate. “Those spring rolls look yummy.”
“Help yourself.” Em pushed the wine and food towards Abby.
“I’m so glad you’re both here,” said Abby. “I have news.”
We waited. Abby was very dramatic and told the best stories.
“We finally set a date for the wedding. It’s going to be in the second week of December next year. The exact date will depend on our venue.”
We both squealed and hugged Abby. Then Em said, “It’s about time. Usually the wedding date is within a year of getting engaged.”
While it wasn’t a surprise that Em knew all the rules of wedding etiquette, I also wondered why they were waiting another year. They’d gotten engaged in February and had already talked about having kids.
Abby sighed. “I know. I would have preferred this December, but Natalie and David are moving back to Ottawa next spring, and she really wants to help.”
Mason’s parents lived in China right now. Since Abby had no mother and never saw her father, Natalie had plunged into being a surrogate parent. Abby enjoyed Natalie’s attention, but they had very different personalities.
“You could still have the wedding earlier than December,” Em suggested.
“December is the slowest month for real estate sales. I kind of promised my boss I wouldn’t take off for three weeks at a busy time.” Abby made a face. “It already feels like this wedding is out of my control.”
“Well, work is important, so there’s not much you can do about that,” I said. “But I’m sure Natalie wants you to be happy. Don’t be afraid to speak up.”
“Natalie’s going to want to visit all the swankiest wedding dress places. I’ve been looking at used dresses on eBay. I cannot spend a ton of money on something I’m only going to wear once, even if she wants to pay for it.” Abby was naturally thrifty and prided herself on bargain hunting. Then her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m forgetting the most important part! I want both of you to be my bridesmaids. Will you do it?”
A warm flush came over me. “I’d love to,” I replied.
“Of course,” Em said. Abby hugged us both at once.
“Em, will you be my maid of honour?” Abby added.
Em nodded, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “Sorry. It’s just so—”
She got up to get some tissues, and Abby turned to me. “I hope you’re not offended, Sophia. I’ve known Em a lot longer.”
I shook my head. “I’m not offended at all. I’ve never been a bridesmaid before, so I’m very excited.”
When Em returned, Abby patted her hand. “You pretend to be tough, but you’re such a softie. And don’t worry, ladies. I’ll make sure your bridesmaid’s dresses are nice. Maybe black, so you can wear them again.”
“Black is unlucky for weddings,” Em declared. Apparently, there was no aspect of weddings she wasn’t expert in.
“That’s old-fashioned,” Abby scoffed. “People wear black all the time now. Besides, do you really want a neon green cocktail dress hanging in your closet until the end of time? Because that’s what I’ll do if you keep fighting me on everything.”
They pretend-glared at each other. They reminded me of sisters—or at least what my idea of sisterhood was, since I had none. “You two are so cute.”
“Seriously, I am so happy to have two good friends like you as bridesmaids. It’s not going to be a huge event, and I want everyone to have a good time. Especially Mason. I’m worried that a wedding might be stressful for him, so I want to make it as relaxed as possible.”
“What’s Mason doing tonight?” I wondered.
“He has a hockey game,” Abby said.
“You don’t have to be there cheering your fiancé on?” I asked. Both Em and Abby used to go to games together when their boyfriends played on the same team. Em’s big break-up had changed that. I helped myself to more pad Thai.
“I already went to a game on Thursday. Tonight is a make-up game.”
Em scowled. “Yeah. I went to Thursday’s game too. Mason promised me that they were going to win. He lied.”
Abby sprang to her fiancé’s defence. “It’s because their starting goalie’s gone. He works for National Defence, and he got posted to Kosovo. They’ve been looking for a new goalie, but it’s impossible at this time of the season.”
“Why do you care if they win or lose?” I asked Em. It was only beer league.
She spoke through gritted teeth, “They were playing Lucas’s team. I wanted to see them get beaten.”
I shook my head. “Isn’t there something in your multi-step recovery program about not obsessing about your ex?”
Her expression darkened. “I’m not obsessing. But I found out that he’s dating someone new. She wasn’t there though.”
Abby and I exchanged concerned looks.
“It’s not good to keep focusing on Lucas,” Abby said. “Who cares if he’s dating? After all, you’re dating too.”
Em nodded. “Yes, Ben is nice. He has possibilities.” Possibilities meant marriage potential to Em, who was quite open about her desire to settle down and have kids. Ben was a pharmaceutical rep who talked way too much about urinary tracts but would hopefully move on to more normal topics once I got to know him better.
“But you’re the ones with serious relationships. That’s what I want,” said Em.
“Actually,” I began, and two sets of eyes swivelled onto me. “I broke up with Elliott last night. I caught him fooling around with another woman at the Hallowe’en party.” I left out the details about the bathroom B.J. No point in searing gross images into everyone’s mind.
Em’s mouth opened and closed several times. “We’ve been together for over an hour, and you didn’t share that little nugget of information with me?”
“I’m embarrassed about it. And besides, we were talking about our work issues, which are bigger.”
Abby winced. She was the world’s worst keeper of secrets.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“Um, do you think you might get back together?”
“No. Absolutely not. Cheating is a hard limit for me, especially cheating when I’m practically in the room.” I was trying to be cool, but this was humiliating.
“Well, I didn’t think Elliott was good enough for you. I recognized him as someone who had hit on a friend of mine at a tech meet-up. Like hit on her in a skeezy way.”
I wasn’t sure of Abby’s exact definition of skeezy, but her pained expression gave me a good idea. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It happened before you guys were going out. A lot of guys change once they meet a great woman—which you are,” she explained.
I shook my head. In my work experience, people lapsed into the same mistakes. Real change was difficult. “Apparently I never affected Elliott’s essential skeezy nature.”
“As we age, it gets harder to evolve as people,” said Em.
I nodded. I remembered Paul, my first boyfriend. Poor guy, I had put him through a lot of improvements: his wardrobe, his haircut, and even his cultural interests. But ultimately, we had broken up, and I decided it wasn’t up to me to “improve” anyone. Now I tried to accept guys the way they were.
Elliott was a flawed person, but we did have a lot in common. Our families knew each other because his father was Japanese Canadian. We were both ambitious and hard working. And I enjoyed dating someone so socially adept—I could take Elliott anywhere. But if we didn’t match up morally, nothing else mattered. That was essential.
“You don’t seem that upset about the breakup,” Abby said.
“Well, I am, but it’s probably not in the way you’re thinking. I’m upset at the way things ended, and I’m upset at myself for not perceiving what Elliott was really like. Because if he pulls a stunt like that, what else has he done?”
I could tell that both Em and Abby were shocked at the way I was reacting. At times like this, I felt like a psychopath. I didn’t wail and flail like a normal woman. I could only blame my Japanese upbringing: concern about what people thought and worry about maintaining your reputation. And stoicism. In Japan, people were praised for strength and propriety in times of stress, but here in Canada, everyone wondered what was wrong with you.
There was a brief silence as we all contemplated my robotic nature.
I attempted to change the subject. “Hey, I might know someone who could play goal for Mason’s team.”
“Is he good?” Em asked.
“Well, I’m no hockey expert, but he used to be really good back in high school.”
“Who is this guy?” Abby asked.
“Henry MacDonald,” I replied. Everyone looked blank, so I added, “He’s the lead singer for Shawville.”
More blank looks.
“The indie rock band?” I added. Apparently, they were legendary only to me.
“Shawville. Isn’t that the band you took me to see last year?” Abby asked.
I nodded. That concert had been amazing.
“Ohhhhh,” Abby’s coo was loaded with innuendo. “Is he the guy with the big cock?”
Em choked on her coconut curry. “What kind of concert was this? I’m sorry I missed it.”
Abby explained, “Well, it’s not like he whipped it out, but you could see something noticeable in his pants—even from the back of the theatre. And he had definite sex appeal.”
I shook my head. How did Abby determine all these things from sitting in the audience? Not that she was wrong—well, about the sexiness; I had no idea about the endowment part. I hadn’t seen him naked since a wading pool incident when we were five. My only memory was how weirdly different he was from me.
Em leaned towards me. “Who’s this Henry guy?”
“The boy next door. We grew up together.”
I was trying to be ultra-casual, but Em and Abby were onto me instantly.
“I remember.” Abby had perfect recall when it came to attractive men. “You said you knew him, but you never said you guys were tight.”
“I hadn’t seen him in a while. He moved back recently.”
“And he called you right away?” Em asked.
“Is this a cross-examination?” I protested. “He didn’t call me. I ran into him last night.”
“Before or after you broke up with Elliott?” Em pressed. She should have been a lawyer.
“After.” I finally relented to their curiosity. “I called for a Lyft to escape the party, and Henry turned out to be my driver. We were best friends when we were kids, but we haven’t seen each other much since high school. He’s an awesome musician and a great guy. I think he’s at loose ends right now trying to figure out what to do with his life. He might welcome a chance to join a hockey team and make some new friends.”
It struck me that helping Henry was exactly the kind of project I needed to keep my mind off all the crap in my life.
“Why don’t you go out with him?” Abby asked.
“Me? No way. We’ve been friends for way too long.” Not to mention that he was so out of my league. He was an indie rock god, and I was a boring litigator. If only I had looked like a grown-up when I had seen him, but instead I’d been a sodden yellow mess. Apparently, it was too late to make a good 4,745th impression.
“Are we all done with dinner?” I asked, in yet another attempt to change the subject. This night was full of conversational landmines.
Abby rubbed her stomach. “Ugh. I shouldn’t have eaten all this after the pizza Mason made for dinner. But good news, I brought dessert.” She fished in her giant purse and held up a Tupperware container. Some brown misshapen objects were visible through the opaque plastic.
Em and I exchanged worried glances.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Em protested.
“Oh, it’s okay. I was going to leave them for Mason, but he insisted I share the wealth. Should I make tea?”
I shook my head. “You know, I’m so full of Thai deliciousness right now. I don’t think I could eat another thing.”
“Yeah, maybe later,” agreed Em.
Abby squinted at us. “Do you two not want to eat my baking?”
Em gave up. “Abby, baking is not your strength. I’m willing to bet you made a whole bunch of substitutions.”
“Maybe a couple. We didn’t have chocolate chips, so I added coconut instead. And we didn’t have enough flour. What’s the big deal?”
“Baking is science. If you change one thing, the whole balance changes. And how can you make cookies without flour?”
Abby lifted her chin with pride. “I used cornstarch instead. They look exactly the same.”
The look of horror on Em’s face made me laugh heartily for the first time in 24 hours. Life would go on, and my good friends would be there for me.