Authors: Lisa de Jong
Bonnie clears her throat a little. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a bitch to you lately about having the perfect husband and relationship. I was just jealous of what you had and felt like you couldn’t relate to what I was going through. I should’ve known better. We all have our own hurt, our own pain even if it’s not obvious to the world. You’ll make the right decision, Farah. You’re intuitive and caring and loving. You’ll make the right choice for yourself and for your family.”
“Thank you, Bonnie. You’re forgiven. You weren’t too horrible and I knew you were hurting.” Farah slaps her thighs, jerking me out of my little stupor of watching my best friends make up. “So two problems discussed. Now what are we going to do about Celeste’s problem?”
“Oh no,” I protest. “We’re not discussing me. I’m great. I’m fine.”
Farah rolls her eyes at me. “You’re not great. You’re not fine.”
“She’s in love with Adrian,” Bonnie declares. “And she can’t get over it.”
“And he’s in love with her,” Farah adds. “And he can’t get over it either.”
My mouth falls open. Snapping it back shut, I glare at them both for a few seconds. After everything they’ve just confessed, I owe it to them to be honest. “Y’all are right. I am in love with Adrian. Bad. We’re talking all-consuming, all-encompassing love with him. But there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” Blowing out a deep breath, I continue, “But, Farah, you’re wrong. Adrian may want me and have some feelings for me, but he’s not in love with me.” At the shaking of her head, I reiterate, “No, he’s not. Lust is not love. Caring is not loving.”
Farah narrows her eyes at me and I visibly blanche. “Are you done? Because I happened to have had an extremely enlightening conversation with him. I know what I’m talking about, Celeste. Adrian loves you. Not familial, not obligatory love. I mean true blue love.”
“I heard what he said, Farah. I was eavesdropping in the hall. He said I was his cross to bear and that if he loved me he’d be dead because of my vicious nature. That’s not love, honey, that’s regret that borders on hatred because of feeling a little something like love.”
“Again, are you done?” she asks unperturbed. “Your eavesdropping skills need some work. You should have stuck around and heard our whole conversation. Because what he said after I called bullshit on those statements, would’ve changed your life.”
“What do you mean? Tell me then if it’s so life-changing.”
“I can’t. I swore to him that I wouldn’t. And I know you’re my best friend but his reasons for your not being privy to those thoughts were sound. I’m just hoping that you’ll both come to see reason before I have to intervene.”
“Intervene now, damn it!” I say half-jokingly.
“I can’t. I...I can’t say anymore right now. Only that, I think he’s struggling to figure some things out for himself and that I’m not giving up on the two of you just yet.”
Bonnie finally chimes in while I mull this over. “Ugh...that’s because you’re a hopeless romantic, Farah. They both have their reasons for not being able to overcome whatever they’re up against, and we should respect that.”
“You make us sound weak and our problems trivial.”
“If the shoe fits...” Bonnie chimes.
“Oh great! You two make up and then turn on me. I get it. I’ll be your punching bag for this bonding moment, but I promise I won’t do it for long.”
“Aww...honey, you’re not our punching bag. We just want what’s best for you. And we both think that Adrian’s what is best for you.”
“So you’ve been talking about me behind my back?” I cry disbelievingly.
Farah shakes her head no, but Bonnie pats me on the hand and says, “Of course, we have. But it was for your own good.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Look, even if Adrian feels a little something for me, the forces that we’d be up against,” I shake my head, “they’d ruin us. Both of us. I have my children to consider. If they bring me down, my boys go with me. Do you understand that?”
Bonnie nods her head yes. Farah shakes her head no. “No. No, I don’t understand how your family can be so cruel and manipulative.”
I throw up my hands. “You know, me either. I don’t understand it. I’ve just come to accept it.”
“OK. Our party just got really depressing, but I’m about to change this vibe,” Bonnie decrees, jumping up and swaying a little with the movement and the cosmos.
While she does whatever she needs to do, I run into the kitchen to pour up another round. I drain the contents of my glass quickly and refill us both. “Farah, you sure you don’t want one?” I call.
“No thanks,” she calls back. “I’m just not in the mood for alcohol tonight.”
I’m no lush, but how could you not be in the mood for a cosmo?
“Okey dokey,” I singsong.
Suddenly, our quiet music fades out and I hear the opening horn for one of my favorite songs blaring. I abandon our drinks and dart back into the living room in time to see Bonnie grab Farah and pull her up for a little dance. We twirl around for a minute, but as the chorus strikes up, we line up and belt it out in sync, “I love you baby, and if it’s quite all right...” We know every single word, every single intonation, and hit it all on cue. When it slows back down, we sway and serenade each other until it fades and then we collapse on the couch and dissolve in a fit of giggles and tears.
“Oh my gosh, Celeste, please tell me you brought
10 Things I Hate About You
.”
I laugh again. She knows me so well. “What do you think? May I interest you in a little Heath Ledger?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
“I knew I loved you. Go get the drinks and I’ll get it going.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Farah follows me into the kitchen and fixes herself a glass of tea while I finish up with our drinks. “This is fun. We need to do this more often. It’s like a slumber party. Do you remember those?”
“Yes, they were so much fun. Do you remember making the sign-in book where you listed all your favorite stuff and hopes and dreams and passed it on to the next person to do the same? It was like old school Facebook.”
“No, we had MySpace.”
I groan. “I keep forgetting you’re a dang baby!” I nudge her and we load up and make our way back out. When we hit the living room, we both come to a screeching halt. Bonnie’s face is bunched up like she’s in pain. My eyes follow hers to find Garner standing in the open doorway staring her down. I start to back out of the room but I’m not quick enough. And it’s like I’m invisible anyway because they are so intent upon one another.
“I’m here to tell you that you’re not my girlfriend.” Well, that doesn’t sound good. “I don’t give a shit if you ever meet any more of my friends, or my parents, or anyone else. I’ll never introduce you as my girlfriend, and I’ll never acknowledge you in public. I’ve been miserable all night, damn it. You’re the one I want, and if it has to be on your fucked up terms, then so be it. Thinking about carrying on without you was like wondering what it would be like to try to carry on without oxygen. My chest burned at the mere thought of it. I can’t do it. I
won’t
do it.” He pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing in the most serious tone I’ve ever heard him use. “Bonnie, queen of my soul and imprisoner of my heart, will you do me the honor of being the woman I bang on a regular basis, the woman I flaunt at my gigs as the hot piece of ass I get to go home with every night, and the woman I’m honored to hang out with if she’s got nothing or no one better to do?”
I blink rapidly at his unconventional “proposal” and look toward Bonnie. Her eyes have filled with tears, and she’s nodding her head up and down. Before she can say a word, Garner is across the room, hoisting her up in the air, and pulling her head in for a kiss while simultaneously whisking her up the stairs.
He pulls back only slightly to murmur against her lips, “Tell your friends good night.”
Not taking her eyes off his, I barely hear her mumble, “Good night.”
Turning toward each other with identical expressions of astonishment, Farah and I burst out laughing. We head back into the kitchen and straighten up quickly, all the while giggling and shaking our heads at our quirky lovebirds. Whatever works, I guess.
“Will you drop me at my house on your way home?”
“Yeah, sure,” she agrees.
Locking up behind ourselves, we head down to Farah’s car and start toward my house. When Farah starts the car, I reach over and turn the song up, “Oh, I love her.”
“Me too. ‘Breakaway’ is my favorite too.”
After listening to the lyrics for a minute, I feel a pull unlike any other, I put my hand over hers as it rests on the gearshift. “Will you do me a favor and not ask any questions?”
“Umm...yeah, of course.”
“Will you drive down Willow?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” She shakes her head at me.
“You said—”
“That wasn’t a question. It was an observation,” she says as she puts her signal on to turn.
“Thank you, Farah.”
As we near his apartment, I ask her to pull over and wait here for a minute. I don’t really know why I’m stalking him, but I’d always wondered what it would feel like to do this kind of thing. I’d heard it was a popular thing to do when you were young and crushing on somebody. I really don’t see what all the fuss is about. I’m staring at a lifeless building.
That thought dissipates rapidly as I see him move out onto his balcony. Holding his cell to his ear, I see him take a swig of the beer he’s holding and make that face like it’s his first sip. I swallow hard as I take him in.
Why am I doing this to myself?
Stupid, stupid idea!
I’m about to ask Farah to pull out when I see
her
come out to try to sidle up next to him. He shakes her off and motions for her to go back in. She does, albeit, in a pout.
“Let’s go, Farah. You were right. So not a good idea. Furthermore, it was stupid and immature. I’m regressing constantly these days, I swear.”
“Celeste,” Farah says as she pulls back onto the street, “I really think you need to decide what it is you want and go after it. If it’s Adrian, great. If not, move on. All this...indecision is not good for you.”
I laugh a little too loudly. “I’ve been cursing myself for that very thing. The kicker is I have decided to move on several times, yet I can’t seem to make my heart get on board with my head. And every time I think I’ve got a handle on it, I have a relapse.”
“I know, honey.” She pats my hand. “It’s easier said than done. I guess you just need some more time, or you need to make a different decision. Seems to me, if you’re having that hard of a time fighting it, maybe you shouldn’t be trying to resist at all.”
“I’m stuck with this decision. It’s just...it has to be this way.”
“I don’t get that either.”
“I know. It’s...complicated. My family is...” I take a deep breath. How do I explain them? “They’re evil, Farah. Can we leave it at that, please?”
“Of course. I don’t mean to push, but I hate seeing you this miserable. What you just said about your family I’ve suspected. There are rumors about all that. I can’t even imagine.”
“No, you sure can’t,” I whisper.
Twelve
Everything Changes
IT’S THAT MOMENT. That moment when we think everything is happening on course. No ripples, no waves. We’re just trying to get through another day, feeling like all the little things overwhelm us and they do because they end up making up our day. We get so focused on the little things that we forget the bigger picture. Sometimes we forget to appreciate the things that truly matter because our vision is so clouded by all of the mundane. The here and now become our obsession, and we forget the concept of our finite state because with all the little things vying for our attention it feels like we’ll go on forever.
Then tragedy strikes and shakes our very foundation. We wonder—how did we not see this coming? How did we not sense that something life-altering was closing in on us? How did we not know that our entire world was about to be rocked, rattling everything we know and changing everything about us?
That’s the way of it, though. If we did think like this, we’d need to be heavily medicated just to get out of bed. We wouldn’t be able to function if we considered all the what-ifs life can and does hurl at us. Our fears would completely incapacitate us. Thank God for tunnel vision because if I’d had time to consider how my life was about to change I wouldn’t have survived it.
After Sunday Mass, I run a couple of errands that I know I won’t have time to run once the boys come home this evening. While I am taking care of this, I ponder last night’s conversation with Farah and begin to wonder exactly what the mysterious Mr. OG has under wraps on our local criminals. I come to the conclusion that now is probably the time to find out what kind of insurance policy he possesses to help me out of my predicament. Maybe I could use that leverage to get Adrian out from under their thumbs as well. I don’t know what they have on him, but I do know that they will do anything to protect their own hides, and if I could get both myself and Adrian off of their tenterhooks with the same bit of information all the better.
Adrian out from under their control. Me out from under their control. A win win. If what Farah said last night holds any merit and Adrian’s feelings do run deeper than his libido, maybe we can explore that without fear of being destroyed by them. I’m running through my plan on how to do this as I’m putting away the groceries when that devastating call comes in. The one you hope you never receive, but chances are, you will receive one form of it at some point in your life and most likely when you are completely unprepared.
I hear the distant ringing of my cell phone coming from my purse, so I act quickly, not sure how long it has been ringing. When I look at the screen, I can see that I have several missed calls, voice mails, and texts. A sliver of dread runs down my spine. And I know—I just know.
“Hello?” I ask warily.
“Celeste. Are you at home?” my sister-in-law asks.
“Umm...yes, is everything—”
I hear her muffled comment to someone else. “Tell him she’s at home.”