“He was more private, naturally. That’s why I’m not totally shocked that he didn’t tell me he wanted to leave the firm, or that he felt the way he felt about why he didn’t make partner, or even that he was interviewing. He was a big processor, like, he brooded. He would’ve told me when he was ready, when he had it sorted. He kept himself to himself.”
“That’s a perfect description of John.”
“Isn’t it?” Judy dabbed her eyes. “I was crazy about him, I really was. We’re so different, but it was yin and yang, you know?”
“I bet.” Mary had wondered about that. “So opposites attract?”
“Not exactly, but close, but I think in some ways we had the same take on life, and deep inside, we were alike. Like even though I’m more confessional and never shut up about my emotions, he felt things very deeply. He was a private guy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have emotions. It just meant he didn’t talk about them.”
“I understand.” Mary nodded, thinking when she had mistaken Bennie’s businesslike manner at the crime scene for professionalism, when it was really just a cover. “You and me are so yappy, we don’t always get it when people aren’t.”
“Exactly.” Judy’s mouth set in a forlorn line, the corners turning down. “John and I were happy, really happy. I couldn’t have been happier. I think he was too, even though he was less vocal about it, but we were in love, we said it, I said it first, of course, because you know how I am, but he said it later, at a Phillies game of all places.” Judy almost smiled at the memory, her gaze still in the middle distance. “He loved baseball and we went all the time. He was so excited about the season. It just started.”
“You went to a baseball game?” Mary asked, incredulous. Judy always said she avoided anything with a sportsball and rules you couldn’t break.
“Yes, me.” Judy’s eyes flared happily. “I got the hat and everything. I even ate a hot dog. Me, a vegetarian.”
Mary smiled. “Did you like it?”
“Of course, I’m not crazy, and it was so fun to go, especially because John always buys the program and writes down the hits and runs, whatever, I don’t even know why, but he did it. He has a record of every baseball game he ever went to.”
“I’ve seen those guys at the game, writing stuff down. I can’t believe he was one of those guys.”
“He said it made it more fun but I used to tease him because he never really smiled when he did it, he just became absorbed, and anyway, this one time, I forget which game, one of the players hit a home run, and the cannon went off and the scoreboard went crazy, and he was so happy, he hugged me and he said, ‘God, I love you.’”
“That’s so cute.”
“He was cute, he really could be.” Judy gestured at the couch, and tears brimmed in her bloodshot blue eyes. “You see Anthony over there, with the dog?”
“Yes.” Mary didn’t know where she was going.
“It’s just so nice to be in this house, with your sweetheart of a husband and a great dog, in a really nice, quiet room. And now you’re going to have a baby, and I’ve been sitting here, and I have to tell you this is all I really wanted in my life.” Judy’s eyes filled, and she gestured around the room. “What you have here. What’s in your living room. And not that I’m jealous of you, I would never be, and you know that, but I want these things, this is all I really want, this happiness, this quiet, this peace. A family of my own. And I almost had it, this time.”
Mary’s heart went out to Judy all over again, understanding the depth of what her best friend had lost. Not only John, but the possibility of what could be, their future.
“I’ve had great boyfriends in the past, like Frank, he was great, but he wasn’t the right one. I didn’t have it with him, but I had it with John. I know I did, and I would’ve loved to have been married to him. I could see it happening. We would’ve been so happy together, we were really happy.” Judy sniffled. “We really were, and now he’s gone. Really gone, for good.”
“Oh boy.” Mary put her arm around Judy, and Judy rested her head on Mary’s shoulder, wiping her eyes with the soggy Kleenex.
“It just really sucks.”
“I know.” Mary hugged her closer, and Judy shifted in the seat, straightening up.
“Oops, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” Judy bent over on the far side of the chair, reached down for something on the floor, and straightened up with a gift in her hand, wrapped in wrapping paper covered with daisies. “Open your present.”
“My present?” Mary had almost forgotten. “From the baby shower?”
“Yes.” Judy rallied, with a crooked grin.
“You are so nice. You want to do this now?”
“Are you too tired?”
“No, but it’s a sad time.”
“All the more reason.” Judy smiled bravely. “That’s The Way of the Tao.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. The Tao is full of paradoxes. The Sage would tell you that there is no better time to open a gift than in a time of sadness.”
“In other words, cheer up?”
Judy smiled. “Exactly. Maybe it’s not so paradoxical?”
“Whatever, just don’t join the cult.”
“It’s not a cult, it’s a world religion.”
“I know, I’m just kidding. Meanwhile, were you really going to become a Buddhist nun?”
“I thought about it.”
“You never told me.”
“Because you think it’s a cult.” Judy smiled.
“And they have nuns?”
“Yes, and priests too. But no guilt.”
“Too bad.” Mary smiled back, unwrapping her gift, quietly, so as not to wake Anthony. Ordinarily, she would’ve shared it with him, but no matter how good the marriage, a girl still needed alone time with her best friend, especially on a night as sad as this one.
“I hope you like it. I’m having present anxiety.”
“Don’t be silly.” Mary took the wrapping off and set it aside, revealing a flat rectangular white box. She shook it, prolonging the moment. “What’s in here?”
“Edible undies.”
“Don’t be disgusting.”
“Why stop now?” Judy grinned, with a final sniffle, and Mary took the lid off the box, then moved aside some hot pink tissue paper to find one of the most beautiful baby blankets she had ever seen. The design of the fabric was absolutely miraculous, a weave of fuzzy threads in a warm pink alternating with cornflower-blue threads, which together formed a sweetly fluffy cloud of babyness.
“Oh my God, did you make this, on your loom?” Mary took the blanket out of the box, marveling at how soft and light it felt in her fingers.
“Yes, it’s my first big project. I mixed the two colors since we don’t know whether you’re having a boy or girl.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it! Thank you so much. How long did it take to make?”
“Forever. Do you feel guilty yet?”
“Yes.” Mary felt a wave of happiness wash over her, followed by a wave of sadness, as if she were in an emotional wave pool at a nightmare amusement park. “This is really lovely of you to do, and I really appreciate it. I’m so sorry about John.”
“I know honey. I’m sorry too.” Judy sighed heavily, and Mary felt a final wave, this time of exhaustion. Maybe it was the release, nestled into the safety and security of her home, her best friend, her husband, and a golden retriever with worse gas than her own.
“Boy, am I tired.” Mary pulled up the blanket to her chin. “I could fall asleep right here.”
“Why don’t you, honey?”
“I can’t, I shouldn’t.” Mary closed her eyes, and weariness numbed her to the bone. She had never known exhaustion like the kind that came with pregnancy, which could make her almost crazy with tiredness at times, but she had so much to do before bed. She had to empty the dishwasher, make sure Judy had fresh sheets, and put towels in the guest bathroom and find a tube of toothpaste that wasn’t folded in an accordion …
But in the next minute, she had fallen asleep.