“Oh, honey, let me tell you something. That is definitely an oops baby!” Jules squeals.
“How do you know?” I ask, my mind flashing back to Callie’s hands wrapped around her slightly protruding belly, the sun setting behind her making her look almost angel-like, the caption “Heaven on Earth” seemingly fitting.
“I’m looking at her page now and I’m just telling you that there is no way she and her husband looked lovingly into each other’s eyes after eight years and said, You know what? Our life is just a little too easy right now. We are sleeping through the night, everyone’s potty trained and can basically fend for themselves, so, hey, let’s go through the newborn and toddler hell all over again! That would be like Ben and me getting pregnant right now. I love my two children. But three? No thank you. I can’t even fathom adding a pet to our household! I can’t be held responsible for one more living thing—not even a goddamn houseplant!”
“Aren’t you being a little harsh?” I ask with a laugh, caught off guard by Jules’ tone.
“I’m just saying that no matter what the real story is with that baby, Callie has the same bullshit in her life we all do. She’s just not posting about it. The same way I’m not and you’re not. I mean, look at your mom. We both know she’s bitter half the time about something that happened twenty years ago, but if you believe only what she writes on her Facebook feed, she’s the most secure woman in the world.” Jules giggles. “Like that one from today—”
I sigh, remembering my mom’s most recent post that laser hair removal was the best thing since sliced bread.
“So, Big Bear tomorrow! You excited?” Jules asks, and I’m thankful she’s changed the subject, although this one is no less painful.
“I’m nervous. I feel like this is it. That if I can’t get through to him this weekend, it’s over.”
“You will. You just need some time alone together,” she says, and pauses, and I can sense her unspoken words hanging in the air.
“What?” I ask. “I can feel you thinking over there. Just say whatever’s on your mind.”
Jules exhales before answering, as if trying to decide if I can handle her internal dialogue. Finally, she breaks the silence. “Marriage is hard, Kate. My marriage is hard. Even when you get off on the right foot, you have to always keep fighting for it. The minute you stop, it starts to slip away from you again. So if this is what you want—”
“It is,” I interrupt.
“Then fight like hell for it, and then whatever happens, you can walk away without any regrets.”
I pause, letting her words settle—knowing they aren’t just for me. Now that I had seen the cracks that existed in her marriage, I wondered how long they had been there. Maybe if I had looked just a little harder, paid a little more attention, if I hadn’t been so self-consumed, I would’ve seen her distress sooner.
“Jules, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“You’ve got your hands full with your own problems, girlfriend!” She laughs, but I hear her voice break slightly.
“True.” I echo her laugh. “But, seriously, Jules, I was so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t even notice my fiancé was falling for one of my closest friends. So I’m here to tell you that my head is officially out of my ass. And I don’t want to miss anything else important that could be going on with someone I love. So I’m here for you. Okay?” I pause, hoping she’ll quickly fill the silence with the story of whatever she’s been going through—that as her words spill out of her, she’ll feel an instant release and she won’t feel so alone. That just talking to me will help.
I hear her take a deep breath. “Don’t worry, my problems will still be here after we solve yours—we can deal with them then, okay? Oh shit!” she cries out.
“What is it?” I exclaim.
“I have to go—my cheese soufflé is about to collapse. And I’m late to pick Evan up from piano. Or is it soccer? Dammit! Good luck this weekend! Love you!”
“Love you too,” I say after she’s gone, and hope that the cheese soufflé is the only thing collapsing in her life.
? ? ?
“It’s exactly the same—they haven’t changed a thing,” I say, dropping my weekender bag on the auburn-colored chenille chair in the corner and pulling open the curtains to reveal the dark blue water of Big Bear Lake. The ride up the mountain had started off slow but then had gone quickly, me peppering Max with intelligent-sounding questions about the latest product his company was working on, thanks to the incessant Google searching I had done the night before.
I feel Max wrap his arms around my waist and rest his chin on my shoulder. “It is spectacular. Are you up for kayaking?” He holds out a pamphlet that he must have grabbed from the lobby.