Between Sisters

“What do you mean, yet?”


“Come on, Meg. We’ve been friends for more than twenty years. I remember when you were a quiet, way-too-young freshman at the UW. One of those genius kids who everyone believes will either kill themselves or cure cancer. You used to cry every night back then. My bed was next to yours on the sleeping porch, remember? It broke my heart, how quietly you cried.”

“Is that why you started walking to class with me?”

“I wanted to take care of you—it’s what we Southern women do, don’t you know? I waited years for you to tell me why you cried.”

“When did I stop? Crying, I mean.”

“Junior year. By then, it was too late to ask. When you married Eric, I thought—I hoped—you’d finally be happy.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“I’ve waited for you to meet someone else, try again.”

Meghann poured two more straight shots. Downing hers, she leaned back against the railing. Cool night air ruffled the fine hairs around her face. The sound of traffic drifted toward her. “I have … met someone.”

“What’s his name?”

“Joe. I don’t even know his last name. How pathetic is that?”

“I thought you liked sex with strangers.”

Meghann heard how hard Elizabeth was trying not to sound judgmental. “I like being in control and waking up alone and having my life exactly the way I want it.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Meghann felt that wave again, the feeling of being sucked under a heavy current. “Being in control … and waking up alone and having my life exactly the way I want it.”

“So this Joe made you feel something.”

“Maybe.”

“I assume you haven’t seen him since you realized that.”

“Am I so obvious?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Just a little. This Joe scared you, so you ran. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re a bitch, how’s that?”

“A bitch who’s right-on.”

“Yeah. That kind of bitch. The worst kind.”

“Do you remember my birthday last year?”

“Everything up until the third martini. After that, it gets fuzzy.”

“I told you I didn’t know if I loved Jack anymore. You told me to stay with him. Mentioned something about me losing everything and him marrying the salad-bar girl from Hooters.”

Meghann rolled her eyes. “Another shining example of my humanity. You talk about love; I answer in settlement. I’m so proud.”

“The point is, I was dying in my marriage. All the lies I’d been telling myself for years had worn thin. Everything poked through and hurt me.”

“But it worked out. You and Jacko are like newlyweds again. It’s frankly disgusting.”

“Do you know how I fell back in love with him?”

“Medication?”

“I did the thing that scared me the most.”

“You left him.”

“I had never lived alone, Meg. Never. I was so scared of not having Jack, I couldn’t breathe at first. But I did it—and you were there for me. That night you came down to the beach house, you literally saved my life.”

“You were always stronger than you thought.”

Elizabeth gave her a so-are-you look. “You have to quit being afraid of love. Maybe this Joe is the place to start.”

“He’s all wrong for me. I never sleep with men who have something to offer.”

“You don’t ‘sleep’ with men at all.”

“The bitch returns.”

“Why is he so wrong?”

“He’s a mechanic in a small town. He lives in the run-down cabin that comes with the job. He cuts his hair with a pocket knife. Take your choice. Oh, and though he’s not much on decoration, he has managed to fill his place with photos of the wife who divorced him.”

Elizabeth looked at her, saying nothing.

“Okay, so I don’t really care about that stuff. I mean the photos are creepy, but I don’t care about his job. And I sort of like Hayden. It’s a nice town, but …”

“But?”

In Elizabeth’s gaze, Meghann saw a sad understanding; it comforted her. “I left town without a word. Not even a good-bye. You can’t turn that around easily.”

“You’ve never been one to go for the easy route.”

“Except for sex.”

“I never thought sex with strangers would be easy.”

“It isn’t,” Meg said quietly.

“So, call him. Pretend you had business that called you away.”

“I don’t know his number.”

“What about the garage?”

“Call him at work? I don’t know. That seems kind of personal.”

“I’m going to assume you gave this guy a blow job, but a phone call is too personal?”