“I had to hear it from Frank. You could have called me yourself. ”
Annie ran a trembling hand through her tangled hair. They had been friends forever, she and Terri. Practically sisters. But even with all they’d been through together, all the ups and downs they’d weathered, Annie didn’t know how to begin. She was used to taking care of Terri, with her wild, over-the-top actress lifestyle and her steady stream of divorces and marriages. Annie was used to taking care of everyone. Except Annie. “I meant to call, but it’s been . . . difficult. ”
Terri curled a plump arm around Annie’s shoulder and propelled her to the overstuffed sofa in the living room. Then she went from window to window, whipping open the white silk curtains. The twenty-foot-tall, wall-to-wall windows framed a sea and sky so blue it stung the eyes, and left Annie with nowhere to hide.
When Terri was through, she sat down beside Annie on the sofa. “Now,” she said softly. “What the fuck happened?”
Annie wished she could smile—it was what Terri wanted, why she’d used the vulgarity—but Annie couldn’t respond. Saying it out loud would make it too real. She sagged forward, burying her puffy face in her hands. “Oh, God . . . ”
Terri took Annie in her arms and held her tightly, rocking back and forth, smoothing the dirty hair from her sticky cheeks. It felt good to be held and comforted, to know that she wasn’t as alone as she felt.
“You’ll get through it,” Terri said at last. “Right now, you think you won’t, but you will. I promise. Blake’s an asshole, anyway. You’ll be better off without him. ”
Annie drew back and looked at her friend through a blur of stinging tears. “I don’t . . . want to be without him. ”
“Of course you don’t. I only meant . . . ”
“I know what you meant. You meant that it will get easier. Like I’d trust your opinion on this. You change husbands more often than I change underwear. ”
Terri’s th
ick black eyebrows winged upward. “Score one for the housewife. Look, Annie, I know I’m harsh and pessimistic, and that’s why my marriages fail, but remember what I used to be like? Remember in college?”
Annie remembered, even though she wished she didn’t. Terri used to be a sweet little Pollyanna; that’s why they’d become best friends. Terri had stayed innocent until the day her first husband, Rom, had come home and told her he was having an affair with their accountant’s daughter. Terri had had twenty-four hours’ notice, and then wham! the checking account was gone, the savings had been mysteriously “spent,” and the medical practice they’d built together had been sold to a buddy for one dollar.
Annie had been with Terri constantly back then, drinking wine in the middle of the day, even smoking pot on a few occasions. It had made Blake insane. What are you doing still hanging around that cheap wanna-be, anyway? he used to say. You have dozens of more acceptable friends. It had been one of the few times Annie had stood up to Blake.
“You stayed with me every day,” Terri said softly, slipping her hand into Annie’s and squeezing gently. “You got me through it, and I’m going to be here for you. Whenever you need me. Twenty-four hours a day. ”
“I didn’t know how much it hurt. . . . It feels like . . . ” The humiliating tears burned again. She wished she could stop them, but it was impossible.
“Like your insides are bleeding away . . . like nothing will ever make you happy again? I know. ”
Annie closed her eyes. Terri’s understanding was almost more than she could bear. She didn’t want her friend to know so much; not Terri, who’d never held a marriage together for more than a few years and couldn’t even commit to owning a pet. It was terrifying to think that this was . . . ordinary. As if the loss of twenty years was nothing at all, just another divorce in a country that saw a million breakups a year.
“Look, kiddo, I hate to bring this up, but I have to. Blake’s a hotshot attorney. You need to protect yourself. ”
It was bruising advice, the kind that made a woman want to curl up into a tiny, broken ball. Annie tried to smile. “Blake’s not like that. ”
“Oh, really. You need to ask yourself how well you know him. ”
Annie couldn’t deal with this now. It was enough to realize that the past year had been a lie; she couldn’t fathom the possibility that Blake had become a complete stranger. She stared at Terri, hoping her friend could understand. “You’re asking me to be someone I’m not, Terri. I mean, to walk into a bank and clean out the money, our money. It’s so . . . final. And it makes this about things . . . just things. I can’t do it to Blake. I can’t do it to me. I know it’s naive—stupid, even—to trust him, but he’s been my best friend for more than half my life. ”
“Some friend. ”
Annie touched her friend’s plump hand. “I love you for worrying about me, Terri. Really, I do, but I’m not ready for this advice. I hope . . . ” Her voice fell to a whisper. She felt hopelessly naive when she looked into Terri’s sad, knowing eyes. “I still hope I don’t need it, I guess. ”
Terri forced a bright smile. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s just a midlife crisis and he’ll get over it. ”
They spent the next few hours talking. Time and again, Annie pulled a memory or an anecdote out of the black hat of her marriage and tossed it out, as if talking about her life, remembering it, would bring him home.
Terri listened and smiled and held her, but she didn’t offer any more real-world advice—and Annie was thankful. Sometime around noon they ordered a large lamb sausage pizza from Granita’s, and they sat on the deck and ate the whole thing. As the sun finally set across the blue Pacific, Annie knew that Terri would have to go soon.
Annie turned to her best friend. Finally, she asked the question that had been hovering for the better part of the afternoon. “What if he doesn’t come back, Terri?” She said it so quietly that, for a moment, she thought the words were buried in the distant sound of the surf.
“What if he doesn’t?”
Annie looked away. “I can’t imagine my life without him. What will I do? Where will I go?”