“Oh,Sarah,” Connie clucked. “Just let it die.”
“Letwhatdie?” I demanded, staring atthem both through wide eyes.
Mamasimply picked up her glass of iced tea and took a long, slow, casual sip.Connie groaned, shaking her head. “Mary, Mother of God …” She huffed and turnedto me. “After you and Chad were born, your mother and I would wish for the daythat the two of you would gettogether.You know, as more than f—”
“Yes,”I responded brashly. “I got it.”
“Right.Well,” she sighed with defeat, “aftery’allgrewapart, wesortagave up on the idea. Now, he’s beenwith Ali for a long time—toolong, inmy opinion, but that’s neither here nor there—and you, well …” She shrugged.“Well, honey, I’m not sure what it is you’redoin’.”
Itseemed foolish that it hadn’t occurred to me before that this would’ve been agirlish fantasy shared between our mothers. They’d been best friends sinceKindergarten, had been inseparable all throughout school, and as though Fatehad a hand in the timing of their pregnancies, they’d had babies within twomonths of each other. A boy and a girl. And as though I’d just been struck withthe cosmic craziness of it all, even I started to wonder, what were the chancesofthat? Especially given the circumstances—Conniehad tried for ten years to get pregnant, she was even told she wouldn’t be ableto conceive, and then, one day, bysome kind of miracle,she did.
“Wewere so upset to see the rift between you two,” Mama admitted ruefully. “Wetried to think of a way to gety’alltogether afteryou were back from college …”
“Buthe was already with that darn Alison,” Connie grumbled, shaking her fist like adefeated movie villain.
“Anyway,” Mama continued with a forlornsigh. “We’re justteasin’ you, honey.Y’allclearlyain’tinterested ineach other. So, we’ve given up.”
Onthe ride home, I thought about what Mama had said. That they hadgiven up. It echoed what I’d said toChad earlier in the day, how wishing for things is a waste of time. I believedthat, still do, but it made me sad to think they’d had this childish, girlydream of their babies one day falling madly in love, only for it to fall flat.It happens though, dreams rarely ever come true. But it was just how she hadput it.
They’dgiven up.
Somehow,in turn, it felt like they had given up on me. And maybe I felt that waybecause I had, too.
***
Momentsafter I entered the apartment, Morgan tiptoed out of her bedroom, discreetlyclosing the door behind her. Joining me in the kitchen, she whispered, “Benny’ssleeping. He’s a real light-sleeper, so I’m trying to be quiet.”
Ihadn’t seen Morgan with a guy for longer than a few dates, and it’d now beenweeks since she’d started seeing Benny. I was starting to wonder if there mightbe something more to this one, and I suspected Morgan was beginning to hearwedding bells.
“Okay.”I nodded, feigning interest in Benny’s sleeping habits.
Shesighed wistfully, leaning against the counter and propping her chin in herhands. I braced myself. “God, Molly. Ireallythink this one might beit.”
Casein point.
Istifled a giggle and hid behind a genuine smile. “You really like him thatmuch, huh?”
“Ireally do,” and she sighed again. A little morosely, this time. “It’s too soon,though, isn’t it? I know I don’t exactly have the best track record, but … hefeels,different, you know?”
Itook a moment to think about that. About someonefeelingdifferent. I didn’t have the cleanest track record myself,not when it came todating. The moment things seemedto head into relationship territory, I always ran, and I knew why. I didn’tneed a shrink to dissect my brain and slap a disorder on me.
Itwas all thanks to my childhood.
Parentalabandonment. My father—fuck him—ditchinghis girlfriend and little girl for a shinier model. That was then followed upby a few harsh teen years, where the boys were mean and the girls were meaner,picking on the poor, fat girl from the broken home. The girl who would rathereat a box of Twinkies than stare at pictures of Justin Timberlake.
Butthen, there was Chad. While he hadn’t always been there, I still knew that,Chad wasn’t other men. He was one of a kind, and hefeltdifferent.
“Yeah,”I replied, nodding slowly. “I think I know what you mean.”
Withone final wistful sigh, Morgan mentioned, “So, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it toyour show tonight. I wanted to, but Benny started doing that thing with my neckand Isortaforgot that we had other plans tonight. Ifeel like the worst friend ever.”
“You’renot the worst friend ever,” I assured her. “There’ll be other shows.”
Wouldthere be, though? I hadn’t even thought about that. I’d been playing the LocustLounge for yearsnow, andmaking enough money to paymy share of the bills with a little wiggle room. But after opening for Devinfreakin’ O’Leary, maybe a better offer would come along andI’d have to leave the bar—permanently. I suppose that it wouldn’t be the worstthing to happen, but a sentimental sadness panged my heart all the same.
“So,are you excited?” She crowded into me like I was about to drop the biggest newssince the Royal Wedding, and I told her that I was. “It’sgonnabe amazing, Molly,” she whispered encouragingly. “And howfreakin’cool is it that you’re going to travel the country with your best friend?”
Igrinned, broad and bright. Because he was that again, wasn’t he? My bestfriend. “Prettyfreakin’ cool.”And prettyfreakin’ dangerous, a littlevoice warned. I wondered where the hell that came from. Had our mamas’confession really screwed with my head that much?
