Chapter 22
LUCY
“You pick.”
I look into the grocery bag Gilly’s holding open for me and find, as promised, three containers of Ben Jerry’s, along with plastic spoons, and one napkin.
Guess we have to share the napkin.
“Hmmm. I don’t know,” I say, trying to decide among Phish Food, New York Super Fudge Chunk, or Karamel Sutra Core.
I opt for the last. It’s the most gooey and decadent, and dammit, I deserve it.
“Here you go. Now Petal, you choose next.”
Petal goes for the Phish Food, and we all dive in. Our standard emergency meeting snack is far from healthy, especially because we usually manage to finish off an entire pint each, but sometimes ice cream therapy is the only thing that can help a girl.
“Oh my God, I haven’t had this in ages,” Petal says, moaning.
I balance the Karamel Sutra Core container between my legs to soften the creamy deliciousness. I don’t like my ice cream super hard. Meantime, Gilly is already halfway done with hers.
“Yeah, we haven’t had an emergency meeting like this since Petal had some issue with Rake. What was that about, again?” Gilly asks.
I lick my spoon clean before I answer. “She thought he was being traded to another team and was freaking because he hadn’t told her anything about it yet.”
Petal rolls her eyes. “Please don’t remind me of that. I know I overreacted, but at the time, it was hard.”
Gilly snorts. “Yeah, especially because you were already married to him.”
“Well, we’re here for Lucy today,” Petal says, side-eyeing Gilly. “What’s going on, Lu? Tell us everything. It’s not more bum-scraping thongs, is it? PMS? A bad horoscope reading? Or is your assne back?” She snickers.
“Ew. You’re so gross,” Gilly whines. “Is assne even a thing?”
Petal’s eyes widen and she nods hard. “Totally. Haven’t you ever had a zit on your butt?”
Grimacing, Gilly sets down her ice cream. “Please, can we not talk about butt zits?”
“Well, you asked, Gills,” Petal says, her mouth full of Phish Food.
I wave my hands around to get their attention. “Guys. We’re here for me. Let’s focus.”
They sit up straight and nod.
Oh, but where to start? They know I’m seeing Tyler. They do not know I am supposedly writing a book about his douchebag ways. I can’t share that, though. Petal will tell Rake, and he’ll tell Tyler, and there goes my book.
I’m going to rot in hell for this.
So I decide not to be entirely truthful. I’m not lying, per se, just not telling the whole story.
“Well, guys, there might be layoffs at work.”
“Oh. That. I thought this was about a real problem,” Gilly says with an eye roll.
I steal a bite of her ice cream and she flicks me on the arm with her spoon. “This is a real problem, Gills. Although I sorta kinda might have a solution.”
“There you go,” Petal says, clapping her hands. “And you know, Lu, if you ever fall on hard times, I’m here for you.”
Okay, now I have a lump in my throat. “Thank you, Petal. But you know I’d never take you up on that.”
Gilly slaps my thigh. “Why not? You know Petal’s family has more money than God. If she’s offering to help and you need it, don’t be proud. And look, I have a little money put away. I can give you some too.”
Shit. Here come the tears. “You guys. Thank you. I don’t think it will come to that but thank you.”
Petal squeezes my hand. “Of course, girl. We’ve been friends all our lives. We got you.”
I drop my face into my free hand, embarrassed that, one, my friends are so good to me, and two, that I am about to lie my ass off to them.
“But hey, it sounds like you might have a plan or something?” Petal says.
“Yes, right.” I need to be careful here. Give some information, but not all of it. “I… well, my boss is encouraging me to… write a book.”
Petal and Gilly squeal and clap their hands.
“A book about what?” Gilly asks.
I knew this one was coming. And I’m ready with a sort-of answer.
“I’m still playing around with ideas in my head.”
That’s true.
“But I think it will be about… relationships. Or something like that. You know, a self-help thing.”
Also true.
They look at each other and nod, wanting to be as supportive as they can, but also wondering when I cultivated an interest in the self-help genre.
“That’s interesting,” Gilly says. Then, her plastic spoon breaks. “Shit.”
Petal shakes her head. “I always tell you, Gills, you can’t eat hard ice cream with a plastic spoon. You should have brought some spoons from home.”
“I didn’t have time to stop there. I already told you that.”
Knowing I am about to be spewing bullshit, I already have a bit of an uncomfortable stomach. But now that I’ve consumed large quantities of caramel, chocolate, and dairy fat, I’m really feeling like shit.
I stifle a belch. “Here, take my spoon. I’m done anyway.”
“You’re not finishing yours?” Gilly asks.
I shake my head. “You want it?”
She ignores Petal’s scornful look and dives in.
“Never knew you were interested in writing a book, Lu, especially not one about relationships,” Petal says.
“Me too. It just… kind of crossed my mind one day. Writing a book is hard work. That much I know. Maybe I can start by interviewing you and Rake?”
Anything to throw them off the scent.
She shrugs. “Sure. Although we’re not exactly a normal couple. I mean, how many people get married on a dare in Vegas and then fall in love? We did everything ass-backwards.”
Gilly perks up. “What about me? I’m still in the dating scene. And you know I’ve gone out with a lot of men.”
She looks hopeful, and she has a point. She’s the exact kind of woman this book is for, not someone who should necessarily contribute to it. Gilly does not have a track record of dating what most of us would call ‘good guys.’
“Great idea, Gills,” I say, just to be nice.
“Now. What else?” Petal asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh my God, do not play coy with me. I heard Tyler took you out on a boat and that you puked your guts up.”
Oh. That. I share the whole sad story and by the time I’m done, they are laughing their asses off.
“I can laugh about it now, but at the time, it was pure misery.”
“Well, from what I hear about those whale-watching tours, at least half the boat usually gets sick,” Petal says.
I nod, although I can only remember my own wretched time.
“So what’s up with Ty-ler?” Gilly sing-songs.
“He got me ice skating the other day.”
“Oh, fun. But what’s up with Tyler?” Petal asks. “You’re really not telling us anything.”
Oh God. What can I say?
“He’s really nice and fun.”
Petal drops her head back and groans. “Okay. That is the most boring freaking answer I have ever heard. He’s nice. He’s fun,” she says in her best mocking voice.
“C’mon, Lu,” Gilly says. “Give us some real scoop.”
Should I tell them how he practically raised his little sister?
How I found him crying when he thought she was sick?
How he has a photo of his mother on his desk, which he wrote on the back of when she died?
How he volunteers with a kid’s hockey team?
How badly he felt when he fell asleep at the symphony?
Or how he hustled to get me an ice pack when I fell on my knee?
These are things I can share with the girls. But in order to, I have to say them out loud.
And if I say them out loud, I am acknowledging them, and will have to admit to myself that I don’t see how I can write my damn book.