Chapter 23 Little Things Like Friends
LITTLE THINGS LIKE FRIENDS
Saturday morning was one of my favorite days.
It meant brunch with the girls. We’d spend the morning and into the afternoon complaining about jobs, men, parents, and the newest fad to be thrust upon women our age.
And there were mimosas and these cream cheese and strawberry pastries.
It was part of a life the younger me didn’t realize existed.
Tristan and I had spent most of the night talking about where he’d been these past twelve years.
He had been in and out of rehab back and forth between Parkfield and Craig’s.
I’m not sure I felt better about any of it.
Not about his actions but my own. For so long I had held on to the narrative that he had walked out on me.
That I had been the victim in all of this.
But now I wondered.
And that was causing the therapist in me and the girl who still loved him so much to be at odds. Tristan was not only dealing with a shitty childhood but also addiction. And addicts have triggers. What if I was a trigger?
What if I was part of the problem?
“Ev?” Zoey waved her hand in front of my face.
I shook away my fears. Tristan and I would be okay. We had to be. “Sorry, what?”
“Tell her she’s too old for green hair.” Zoey nodded over to Callie who was looking at her hair.
“Why green?” I tried to play off that I had no idea what Zoey was talking about.
“Why not green?” Callie took a sip of her mimosa.
“Because you’re thirty, and you shouldn’t have green hair.” Zoey looked at her.
“Are you saying I’m old?” Callie put her hand on her chest.
“For green hair, yeah.” Zoey shook her head. “Ev, how did your date with Tristan go? I didn’t hear any ‘reconnecting’ last night.”
“Good.” I played with the stem of my glass. I was just overthinking everything. “We talked. And that’s it.” I forced a smile.
“No sex? Did you at least cop a feel to make sure everything is still there?” Callie frowned. “I mean aren’t you a little bit curious if his cock is the same?”
“I don’t think those things change.” Zoey shook her head. “I thought you were supposed to be some sexpert.”
“I know the size doesn’t change.” Callie rolled her eyes. “But the last time they had sex, they were teenagers. I’ve had sex with teenage boys. It’s not that good.”
I cocked my head. “Please tell me you were also a teenager.”
Callie narrowed her gaze at me. “Really? Are you going to tell me that sex with Tristan was great and life-altering when he was eighteen?”
“He was better than most of the guys in college. So yes, sex with eighteen-year-old Tristan was pretty good.”
“Well, lucky you.” Callie pouted.
“Wow, you’re a ball of sunshine this morning.” Zoey looked Callie up and down. “Who pissed in your granola?”
Callie flopped back in the booth and crossed her arms over her chest. “I broke up with August last night.”
“Things didn’t speed up, huh?” I said, pouring more champagne into her glass.
“They did, just the wrong way. Last night he dropped the I-want-kids bomb. Like soon. He just bought a house and… He said I was entering middle age. I’m only thirty. Middle age? And can you imagine me with a baby? Ugh.”
“Well, he had a point. Your clock is ticking.” Zoey tapped her wrist. “If you don’t start a family now, your eggs will dry up and you will die alone.”
“Spending time with your mom again?” I asked.
“Yes,” Zoey groaned. “I’m not sure I’m going to survive these next five days stuck in an RV with my father, brother, and mother.”
“An RV? That sounds fun. Who’s driving it?” I took another sip, thankful to pull my focus elsewhere than my life.
“Thomas. Dad gets agitated with every new place, so hotels are out of the question. I said we should drug him and toss him on the plane, but Saint Thomas thinks that’s a bad idea.”
“Ah, Saint Thomas, the patron saint of not wanting to drug people?” I elbowed Zoey. “Has Saint Thomas finally made it here?”
Zoey had been fielding all the calls from their mother. I overheard Zoey and Thomas fighting about how they were his responsibility. If their parents wanted to play the culture card, she would too.
“Yeah, he got in late last night. He picks the RV up on Tuesday. He thinks Mom and I should pack it. He’s not getting the whole it’s-the-son’s-duty-to-take-care-of-the-parents thing. Anyway, I’m helping Mom pack the RV on Tuesday.” Zoey took a deep breath.
Zoey was the only one of us dealing with this.
My mother was fine health-wise. It was probably all that tea.
She was messed up in the head, but she had been that way since I was born.
Callie’s mom had enough money to hire someone to take care of her.
And her father married a younger woman and lived in Texas somewhere.
“Do you want help? I can move a couple clients around, take Tuesday off.”
“No. And I don’t want to talk about this. It stresses me out. Have you seen the size of the bathrooms in an RV? So Ian? What are you going to do with him?”
I groaned. “Can we talk about Callie having sex with teenage boys?”
“Shut up.” Callie tossed a grape at me.
“We could but I think that makes us accessory to a crime?” Zoey teased.
“Go to hell, both of you.” Callie tried to hide her smile. “I was fourteen.”
“If you say so.” Zoey shrugged and looked at me. “Just call Ian.”
“I’ve tried.” I thought I could break it off over breakfast. But Ian was having breakfast with his mother and sister.
Then he had plans with Andrew. All of this was normal for us.
I never realized how little we saw each other.
I flipped over my phone, frustrated that Ian hadn’t even answered my last text or offered to cancel his plans with Andrew even after I said, we need to talk.
“I didn’t realize how little time we actually spend together. ”
“Really? You don’t have a toothbrush at his house,” Callie pointed out. “Do you even know what the man looks like naked with all the lights on?”
Zoey looked at her. “And you wonder why we question your sanity. What does that prove?”
“It’s a big step in a relationship. So, have you?” Callie turned to me.
“No.” I realized I hadn’t. Ian could have a huge tattoo on his back, and I wouldn’t know. Not only had we not really comingled friends, but we hadn’t comingled things. “I’ll do it after the dinner tonight.”
“Why after?” Callie said over the rim of her glass.
“Well, first off, he won’t talk to me.” I looked at my phone, willing Ian to call me. “And second, I don’t want to ruin his big night.” That was partly true. Ian had worked hard on this account. And was really proud of what he did. But mostly it was because he was too busy to give me a moment.
“His big night? Is he getting a medal of honor?” Zoey popped a grape in her mouth. “Text him.”
“No, you can’t break up with someone over a text. We are adults, remember?” Callie scolded. “But I do agree that you should break it off before the dinner.”
“It’s tonight.” I threw up my hands. “It’ll be fine.
We’ll have dinner, and then I’ll tell him on the way home.
” Last night while lying next to Tristan, I realized I didn’t do these kinds of things with Ian.
We didn’t lie on the floor and watch the light dance across the ceiling.
Ian and I had Saturday night dinner dates with his sister and conversations about MPR or whatever the Star Trib ran as its headline.
We didn’t spend the night at each other’s apartments.
When the night was over, one of us got dressed and went home.
I had no idea if Ian snored or was a morning person.
I knew those things about Tristan. The way his heartbeat sounded.
How his hand seemed to fit perfectly on my ribs. How his voice sounded heavy with sleep.
“I say just rip that Band-Aid off. A little heartbreak might give Ian a little character.” Zoey shrugged.
I shook my head as I took a drink. “Ian doesn’t need any character building. He’s perfect for someone else.”
“Well, when you do have sex with Tristan, let me know.” Callie said it like it was normal to want to know these things.
“I’m thinking about doing a case study. ‘Broken Hearts: Can They Be Healed Through Sex?’” Callie mocked the headline in the air.
“‘By sex therapist Callie Mariano.’ I could win an award of some sort.”
“Yeah, like a golden penis.” Zoey shook her head. “Can you two ever not use your friends as case study subjects?”
“No,” Callie and I said at the same time.
“Well, leave me out of it.” Zoey drained her drink. “So, what’s next with you and Tristan, Ev?”
“I guess comingling my friends. I met his so I guess it’s only fair that you guys meet him. Sober.” I looked at Zoey.
“I agree. Which is why we should throw Zoey a going-away party,” Callie said.
“A what?” Zoey frowned.
“A going-away party. This way I can meet Tristan and you can invite Tyler, and we can comingle all at once.”
Zoey narrowed her gaze at Callie. “We’re still talking about dinner, right? I never know with you.”
“Yes.” Callie waved off her comment. “So, Ev, what do you think?”
Callie and I had discussed this earlier.
Zoey’s family had a way of making her feel less than important.
The daughter that didn’t do anything with her life.
They didn’t see all that she had done. The awards and write-ups in magazines.
But we did and we celebrated them to remind her she was important.
“I think it’s a great idea. Less pressure on me and Tristan.” I shrugged, biting into a strawberry.
“I know what you two are doing.” Zoey twisted the stem of her glass between her fingers. “And fine. I’ll do it for Evan. But just you guys and Tyler, okay?”
“Absolutely.” Callie clapped her hands. “Now I need a date.”
“I could ask Craig. I don’t think he’s seeing anyone. He’s tall. Over six foot. Dark hair. His eyes are an odd shade of blue. Sometimes they almost look green. Strong jaw, nice mouth, great smile.”
“Is he a horse?” Zoey teased.
“No.” I laughed. “He seems to have his shit together. He owns a pretty nice restaurant. He does have this weird fascination with knives though.”
“Like, a kink or, like, serial killer?” Callie asked.
“I don’t know, but if I had to guess, not serial killer,” I said.
Callie tapped a nail to her chin. “Can’t say I’ve done knives before. Invite him. I could use a little excitement.”
“God, you two are weird.” Zoey hung her head.
“That’s why you love us.” Callie held up her glass. “Cheers to a breakup dinner, to the dump the dad, and knives.”
Cheers to that.