Friendship Makes the Heart Grow Fonder (24 page)

Judy made a noise, a hitching, wheezed breath. “That’s the worst. That wave.”

“If Kiera cries when I send her off to Los Angeles,” Monique said darkly, “I will lose it. I’ll drag her right off the plane.”

“No, you won’t,” Judy said. “You’ll let her go, because that’s what we do. We birth them and feed them and raise them and
give them hell, and when it’s time we just let them go.”

Becky watched as the train whistled and lurched forward, moving with increasing speed into the tunnel while the family waved
until the back lights of their daughter’s car disappeared into the darkness. The weight in her chest swelled and rose up and
threatened to block her throat.

That’s what we do. We just let them go.

Becky sank her elbows onto her thighs. So much of life had already gone. Not just her own eyesight, dimming every moment,
no way to grasp it and stop it from fading, no way to hold it tight. Not just her marriage, cracked and withering, bits of
it falling apart. Her friends had lost so much too. Judy struggled to say good-bye to her active motherhood. Monique, to her
much-loved husband.

She heard her own tense voice. “We’re always losing something, aren’t we? We’re always saying good-bye.”

Monique made an odd, strangled sound. Judy mumbled
no, no, no
but Becky hardly heard the words. The rattling of the train faded down the tunnel. The busker playing the accordion paused
in his singing as a hush fell over the platform, bereft now but for a small cluster of commuters, quiet and still and sad
in the way of absence.

In that silence Becky sat wedged between her two friends as her mind turned, inevitably, to the troubles at home—to all those
things she had not yet lost. Once again fear threatened to smother the flicker of joy she’d nurtured since Munich. She wanted
to hold that joy inside her and carry it back home. She knew the only way to do that was to find a way to renew her relationship
with Gina and take the first halting steps to repair what was left of her marriage. Such an impossible quest.

Maybe she wasn’t meant to do it alone.

Becky reached over and took Judy’s hand. “I’m sorry for being such a pain during this trip.”

Judy raised her brows. “What’s brought this on?”

“A stumble in the tunnels maybe. And a glimpse into the future.”

“Well, honey, don’t worry about it. I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse.”

“I’ve been as self-absorbed and moody as any teenager.”

Monique snorted. “Welcome to the club. At least you’ve got a damn good reason.”

“Right.” Becky reached over and took Monique’s hand too. “Like I’m the first person in the world to get bad news from a doctor.”

Monique looked down at their joined hands, her lips curving in a small smile. “It’s the first time for you, Becky. And for
what it’s worth Lenny was pretty self-absorbed and moody when he got the news too. Because of this bucket list you might all
think that Lenny was nothing but wisdom and soft laughter, but that really wasn’t the case. That man could be one stubborn
goat, especially when it was time to take his medicine. That was his way of trying to keep control, I think.” Monique gave
her a look. “You know, acting fierce and independent, like he didn’t need anyone.”

Becky shrugged. “He should have just realized he’d never make it through the dark times without a little help from the people
he loves.”

Becky squeezed those hands tight. Tonight, at dinner, she would tell her friends the ugly truth about Marco and herself. She’d
confess to the cracks in the mortar of what she’d always hoped to be the most perfect of castles. She’d clung to pride and
her own farm-bred Midwestern independence, when she should have been sharing that all was not sunshine in the house of Lorenzini;
when she should have been probing the wisdom of her friends for advice on how to keep this prince close.

They pressed against her so tight that she felt like a tottering column now buttressed on two sides. They nudged her, knocking
her gently back and forth, sputtering teasing words. She basked in the singular brightness of the moment, like she’d done
while laughing in Munich, abseiling in Switzerland, and listening to Judy in the Porsche, loudly butchering German pop songs.

Monique was the first to lean away. She grew terribly quiet and still. Becky hesitated, wondering if she should say anything,
but Judy gave her a quick shake of the head. Maybe words weren’t always necessary. Maybe what was important was presence—to
hover always like a ghost in the room, summoned when most needed.

When Monique finally exhaled it was as if the widow were trying to expel every last bit of air out of her lungs. “Oh, lord,”
she said. “Now I think I’m going to have to do this.”

Monique looked uneasily at the two of them. The sound of another train began to rumble down the tunnel.

“I have a confession to make,” Monique said. “There is one more item on Lenny’s list.”

F
ifty miles outside of Milan the Ponte Colossus bridge traversed a steep gorge, its slender, arrow-straight supports shooting
five hundred feet up from the crook between the wooded hills. Monique stood by the guardrail in the center of the bridge as
the wind howled up from the chasm. An Italian hottie in a blazing orange T-shirt stood in front of her, strapping her into
the second harness she’d worn on this European trip.

Abseiling had clearly been a dry run. Monique wondered at what point Lenny’s playful list-making changed from being a simple
distraction from their troubles into a map of deep purpose. Was it midway through when he’d nudged her into choosing abseiling
to prepare her for what he ultimately had in mind? Or had he known from the very beginning the lengths he would have to push
her in order to convince her to let him go?

A speeding car zipped by, rattling the portable metal fences that separated the staging area from the active road. Judy stood
by the bridge rail, peering into the gulf. The breeze blasted her hair into a fluttering halo as she cast a crazed gaze Monique’s
way. “Sure you wouldn’t rather be shopping at the Via Monte Napoleone?”

Monique shrugged. The harness strap dug into her shoulder. “You’ve seen one Gucci handbag, you’ve seen them all.”

“Shoes? Ferragamo, Tanino?”

“I’ve got feet like flippers. They won’t carry my wide size.”

“They’ve got great prices on Valentino ready-to-wear—”

“Did you forget that I change diapers for a living?”

Judy sighed and carefully stepped back from the railing. She minced her way across cables and gear to stand by Monique’s side.
“You know that Lenny was tripping on morphine, right?”

“I used to think that.” Monique lifted her arms as her instructor checked the buckles and bolts for tightness. “Now I’ve changed
my mind.”

“I know he didn’t consult you about this one.”

“God, no. I’d have nixed the idea in a heartbeat.”

“For the record, I’d totally support you if you decided to shuck that harness and call it a day. Thirteen is a terribly unlucky
number.”

“You’re true-blue, Judy.”

“I mean, you’re standing here with a cherry-red cable attached to your ankles. You’ve made your point.”

“This from the woman who backpacked across Europe?”

“Young Judy had better knees. And different dreams.”

“Middle-aged Judy did shots with a bunch of Austrian bikers.”

“A task that didn’t require a harness.”

“Join me anyway.” With her arms still stretched out, Monique glanced toward an awning where Becky was receiving instructions
from another coach. “Come and join
us
. We’ll be the three crazy Americans, leaping off a bridge.”

 “Have I mentioned how wonderfully liberating it is to say a firm and unmovable ‘no’?”

“You’ll never be the same after something like this.”

“Dislocated joints and broken vertebrae do tend to change lives.”

“Judy—”

“It’s not all that safe. You shouldn’t listen too closely to the words of adrenaline junkies, even if they have meltingly
gorgeous accents and visible six-packs.”

“Stop.” Monique glanced down at the straps and buckles of her harness. “I’m committed. I’m going to trust Lenny on this.”

“Maybe that’s the difference between you and me, then. I’ve already made my leap of faith.” Judy’s face was ashen and twitchy.
She looked like she wanted to ask one of the Italian instructors if she could bum a cigarette. “I made my leap twenty-seven
years ago when I gave up my wandering ways, married the stud-muffin that is Bob, and gave birth to the better half of a baseball
team. So I’ll leave the bungee jumping to you.”

The word sent a shiver down Monique's spine that had nothing to do with the nippy breeze. She remembered the description in
the Milan guidebook. The Ponte Colossus was a favorite place for adventure travelers. It offered four and a half seconds of
free fall into one hundred and fifty-two meters of gorge.

That gorge, zigzagging toward the horizon, was a steep V that ended in a sliver of a rocky stream, the roar of the water audible
even over the zip of the cars speeding on the road behind her. The instructor finished his tugging and stepped away, then
started explaining in his fluent English about how she should approach the leap. He told her to set her palms together, above
her head, in a posture of prayer. He told her to leap out, as if diving into the sky.

Despite her determination, her bladder clenched.

Judy pulled the camera out of her belly pack and checked the settings as the instructor turned to take one more look at the
main cable. “At least I can take video. I’ve always been good at that.” She glanced up as Becky skipped their way. “I’ll video
you too, you loon.”

“Awesome.” Becky stepped into a harness splayed on the ground and grinned maniacally as the instructor slipped it up her legs.
“None of the soccer moms will believe me otherwise.”

 “Certifiably wacko.” Judy clicked the camera on. “And not even liquored up to justify it.”

“Are you kidding?” Becky shimmied to better settle the straps over her backside. “This is going to be awesome. For once I’ll
jump over something knowing I can’t stumble into a wall or get hit by anything. Unless there’s a sudden flock of birds.”

“Great. Death by starlings.”

“Judy, you know there will come a time when every step I take could be an ass-over-tit tumble onto concrete, right?”

“That’s preventable with a seeing-eye dog,” Judy said. “Or a cane. Those beeping things at crosswalks.”

“Or your arm.” Becky’s smile grew slow and warm. “But in the meantime while I still can…let me fly.”

Monique felt that rush of electricity again, that shimmer of visceral realization she’d experienced yesterday in the train
station. Somehow, over these past four years, she’d fallen into the trap of viewing life as a series of achingly painful farewells.
Since Lenny’s death grieving had become an old habit, like a favorite tattered robe, eagerly sought-out and comfortable and
the perfect fit. Rather than accept a life without him, she’d wallowed in memories of breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning amid
the smell of hazelnut coffee and banana bread and reminiscences of Lenny’s quiet laughter as Kiera beat him in yet another
game of checkers.

But there could still be joy without Lenny. This trip had taught her that. She’d discovered it while thrilling to the rush
of air over the hood of a Porsche, white-noise background to the hysterical laughter of her friends. She felt it even now,
amid the fear gripping her because of what she was about to do.

The instructor stood before her, inviting her toward the three metal steps that led up to the top of the bridge railing. She
felt a rush of adrenaline, a hundred thousand pinpricks all at once. She breathed in deep puffs, as she’d been taught in Lamaze.

Lenny had gone to Lamaze with her. He’d sat behind her to support her sore back as they’d all sprawled on mats, bellies forward.
The instructor had told all the women in the room to practice Kegel exercises, counting repetitions as the men gazed at the
ceiling sheepishly, and no one moved in any visible way.

Promise me,
he’d laughed in her ear,
that you’ll practice those again tonight.

A bubble of delight stuttered her breathing. She took the instructor’s hand and managed the three stairs. The wind slapped
her face. It lifted her unraveling braids and suspended them around her head. Four and a half seconds of free fall, the instructor
had told her. Expect a pull on the ankles, and then a yank up, and then a fall again, but much easier, followed by random
swinging until she became still enough for the team to inch her down to the folks waiting at the bottom of the gorge.

She seized the top of the padded blue pole that served as a brace, burrowing her fingernails into the plastic. With gentle
tugs the instructor adjusted the trailing cord behind her. She dared to look down into the yawning chasm but then she jerked
her gaze up before she succumbed to vertigo. She focused instead on the blue sky ahead of her, scudded with puffy clouds.

Becky’s voice, above Judy’s breathy gasp, “You’re all right, Monique. You’re where you’re supposed to be.”

There came a hush around her, like the sound of the ocean heard in a shell pressed against her ear. A great calm settled over
her. She didn’t feel him really. There was no wisp of his presence on the breeze, no faded echo of his laugh coming from far
away, no scent of autumn leaves clinging to the warmth of his fleece.

But there was something here. Something warm and embracing and undefinable and so much bigger than the world itself, something
whispering the truth she already knew.

Stop being afraid
.

Stop being afraid of risk. Stop being afraid of returning to the things she once loved. Don’t be afraid of loving something
new. For the world is big and sweeping and wonderful, and it lay sprawled at her feet. She deserved to be happy.

She supposed this is what Lenny had really tried to tell her, those precious last weeks of his life.

“Pronta, Signora?”

Her heart started that strange pitter-patter again, the swift, trembling skitter in her chest. She loosened her grip on the
padding.

Then she lifted her arms like wings.