Twenty-Three. Breaking the Ice
Twenty-Three
brEAKING THE ICE
Much to my mother’s delight, Allie and I have a coffee date the morning after I go to Grant’s dad’s house. We meet at the Brew Ha-Ha, a coffee shop where the clientele and the baristas are absurdly cheerful even early on a Friday.
“Is this place okay?” Allie says as we sit down with our drinks.
“Of course,” I say. “Why would you ask?”
Allie kicks up the side of her mouth, surveying me. “You seem a little preoccupied.”
I shake my head vigorously. “No, no,” I say.
“I’m really happy to be here.” I am happy to see Allie.
That I don’t know what we’re going to spend an hour talking about is another thing.
I apologized at Brian’s house, but I can’t break the ice today by saying, So, how do you like being a single mom?
can I? And we can’t just rehash our old memories if we want any hope of being real friends. Or real Sweetville friends.
“Jill, I can see on your face that you’re trying to think of something to discuss that’s not what we were like as kids.”
I almost spit my coffee across the table, she’s so dead-on. “Well, no,” I lie. “But we haven’t been in touch in a while. I guess I’m curious what’s going on with you.”
Allie shrugs, her pretty face crossed by a faint storm cloud. “Divorce. Single parenting half the time, missing my kids the other half. Working. But what about you? Anybody special in your life?”
I’m as unprepared for this question as if Allie had announced she wanted to green-light one of my screenplays.
“I mean, yes and no,” I say. Because while Sweetville me has two special someones, the real-world me is utterly bereft of even the forecast of a partner.
In the real world, I might be reticent to reunite with Allie and spill my very messy guts, but this Allie and I have borderline reconnected.
She has all the kind inquisitiveness of the woman I knew, but I don’t have as much fear of judgment as I would if this conversation were happening in Powell Park.
So I tell her everything. From the moment I crossed paths with Corey and thought maybe something could happen between us to the confusion Grant’s left me with, when he told me he joined the baking competition out of jealousy.
When I’m done spilling my tea, Allie stirs hers for a long time. “You know that no matter what you do, you leave something else on the table, right?”
“What are you saying, exactly?”
Allie does this thing when she’s gathering her thoughts where she stares at her fingertips and appears to count each one before saying whatever she wants to say.
In other words, the things she says are usually thoughtful and gracious, instead of tumbling out of her like avalanching rocks, potentially inflicting damage.
“In high school, when I was dating Will, remember how we’d set you up with some of his friends?”
“I’d like to forget. Getting rejected by members of the stage crew—yes, members, multiple. Not exactly highlight-reel moments,” I say.
Allie laughs. “Yeah, there were some bad matches. But a few of those guys were cute, and they liked you, and you even seemed to like them,” she says.
“But you always wiggled out of stuff before anything went beyond a few dates. Remember how you were having a great time with Owen Daniels at the Sweetheart Dance, but as soon as the slow song started, you suddenly said you didn’t feel well? ”
How does she remember all of this? “In my defense, ‘Enchanted’ has never been my favorite Taylor Swift song.”
“I don’t know; it seemed like something was going well and you thought bolting instead of seeing what could happen was the best idea,” she points out.
I call up my memory of Owen Daniels, and I remember that slow dance.
He’d dated a gorgeous cheerleader the year before, and I was sure he had asked me to the dance only so he had an excuse to see her with her new boyfriend.
“I was a dumb sixteen-year-old,” I say. “I dated people in college. It’s not like I shunned everyone.”
“Yeah, I know. But you always would update me and say you ended something because you needed to focus on finals, or summer was coming and long distance seemed like a bad idea,” she says.
“Long distance is always a bad idea,” I say.
“But you never gave it a chance, either, just to see. It was like you were afraid to risk it going wrong, so you cut it off before it had a chance to.”
“We could seriously talk about what the kids want for Christmas instead of all my bad relationships,” I say brightly. “What does Dylan want? Legos? Kids love Legos, right?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Allie scolds me but with her familiar half-cocked smile that means she loves me.
“That’s what I mean, though. They weren’t all bad, were they?
I wanted so much for you to find someone you were happy to stay with, and when you found Grant, I thought, Bingo! She’s got it .”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out.”
Allie shrugs. “But it was great while it lasted, right? I don’t know, because you really didn’t talk to me much when it ended. I remember you came to Gia’s baby sprinkle, and I barely got to talk to you. You said, ‘Way to go, baby maker,’ like that was all I was to you.”
“That was rude. I was in a bad place.”
“And you could have told me. Instead, I get an email that you’re moving to LA, and suddenly the only contact I have with you is hearting my Instagram posts.” Allie grimaces. “It all felt like you were judging me and saying I was beneath you somehow.”
“Maybe I was a little,” I say. “I think telling myself that you were doing things by the domestic book while I was seizing my dreams or whatever was a way I could feel better about blowing up my life. I suck, don’t I?”
“No. But we both had problems then. Gia was totally a ‘save the marriage’ baby, and I’d been hesitant to tell you because I think I was so hopeful you and Grant were doing well that I thought if I admitted Will and I were having problems, you’d use them as evidence things didn’t work and back out of your own relationship. ”
“Grant and I were a mess, too.”
“Are you sure you were all in with Grant, though?”
“I was practically living with him,” I say.
“But did you find a reason to escape as soon as the slow song started to play? is what I’m asking. As soon as you really had to look into his eyes and let him hold you and connect with you over some Taylor Swift lyrics?” She’s sparkly and sly at the same time.
I forgot how smart and insightful Allie could be. Or maybe I chose to stop seeing her that way.
That last fight Grant and I had plays in my mind again. Did I bolt before we had a chance to really talk about him moving to New York? No, I tell myself now. If he had wanted me, he would have found me.
“I loved him. I think he knew that.”
This lasted while it was fun. I said that to him. Like it wasn’t love. But he knew I loved him, right?
“Well, this isn’t me saying to go back to Grant. But I wonder if you being home and being presented a choice is a chance.”
“A chance at what?
“As trite as it might sound, a chance to see where your heart takes you. Like, stop getting in your own way, and see what speaks to you. Don’t look for the escape routes.”
I hear the sleigh bells, the sigh, and “Open your heart,” but Allie doesn’t seem to register any such sounds.
My heart is wide open right now, as I fall in love with my best friend for the millionth time.
I flush with happiness and maybe a little embarrassment that I really did behave like an asshole with Allie.
Here I’ve been, acting like I’m so much smarter than Allie, when she’s the one serving up cold, hard truths in her warm-and-fuzzy way. How did I treat her so badly?
“I’m so sorry. Lately, I’m worried I’ve done nothing but make the wrong choices. And then I second-guess the ones I do make. Even when we got here, and you ordered tea, I wondered if I should have gotten that instead of my coffee.”
Allie points to the counter. “You can still get tea. Or even better, just enjoy your coffee.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m really sorry I let our friendship sputter out,” I say.
“Also, are you sure you want to be a produce wholesaler? Because you just gave me better life advice than I’ve gotten in years, and I didn’t have to listen to an insufferable optimization bro’s podcast for six hours to get it. ”
“I’m really happy to help. Maybe I’ll start a podcast, too.”
“Oh, no—don’t do that. You’re too good for that world.” I reach across the table and squeeze Allie’s delicate hand. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Allie grins. “I’ve missed you, too.” She stands up. “And I’m getting us both cookies. So, do you want that tea?”