Chapter 28 #2
“You’re welcome on your own, of course,” Madeline assured her, then her eyes twinkled. “Or how about bring—a date? A painting-worthy bearded man, perhaps?”
“Er, no. Definitely not.” Vic shook her head with a quick, decisive jerk.
Gwen, who’d stood, probably to take the dishes to the staffroom for washing up, plunked back into her chair. “Oooo, this sounds very intriguing. Fess up. Who is this bearded man you painted, but adamantly can’t, or won’t, bring to Madeline’s?”
Vic’s cheeks flamed.
Both Madeline and Vic laughed.
“His name’s Cal,” she said miserably.
“Cal Anderson?” Gwen asked.
Right. She’d forgotten Gwen and Cal knew each other. Of course, they did. They were both born-and-bred Greenridgers, who’d never left.
Vic nodded.
“Well, he’s lovely,” Gwen declared. “Why don’t you bring him? He’ll fit right in.”
It was kind of Gwen to imply with that comment that Vic also fit in, but Vic knew better.
She shook her head again and fiddled with the gold handle of her delicate pink teacup.
“He is great, yeah. He’s been helping me with some much-needed maintenance and repairs.”
Madeline looked confused. “You seem into him from the way you turn such a pretty pink whenever I bring him up, and there’s no way he isn’t into you.”
Vic’s head snapped up. “How do you figure that?”
“C’mon, Vic,” Gwen said. “Be serious. You’ve been able to get any guy you wanted since you were fourteen years old.”
Something sharp and bitter clogged the back of Vic’s throat.
“You’re beautiful, kind, funny, smart,” Gwen continued.
“Outrageously talented.”
Vic hated when they did this. Pretended she was something she wasn’t.
Acted like they’d become a trio because coincidence had brought them together and they were similar ages with similar interests.
Like they didn’t remember what she was really like, what had forced their acquaintance. Her sinuses filled and she sniffed.
“I’m sorry,” Madeline said. “I didn’t know it was a tender spot. Sincerely.”
She was so damn kind all the time. It was infuriating.
Rein yourself in, psycho. One gaffe, remember. This woman—your friend—has given you more chances than you deserve.
Madeline has been very patient with you, Vic.
Vic inhaled for a count of four, held for a count of four, then released the breath for a count of four.
Madeline smiled at her and winked. And Vic found herself smiling back, even as she shook her head at herself.
She felt much more level when she said, “No, no—it’s fine. In a different world, maybe I would bring him.”
“Why a different world?” Gwen sounded genuinely baffled.
“Gwen!” Vic exclaimed, but softly and without heat. “Come on, yourself. You literally just said Cal is lovely.”
Lines creased Gwen’s forehead. “So . . .?”
“So what would a lovely man want to do with me? As you so accurately pointed out, I’ve always had some man since I was fourteen or so. Have any of them ever been lovely?”
“I—uh—”
“Don’t worry. It was a rhetorical question—but the answer is no.
No, they have not. In fact, just ask my poor son.
They only got worse the older I got. And the last one?
Brent? Well, he was the cherry on top—” Vic broke off, swallowing hard.
“And don’t worry. I deserved every ounce of heartache he brought me.
I really did because I should’ve—no, I did know better—and I stayed with him anyway. ”
“Vic—”
But Vic was rolling now and didn’t let Gwen’s tentative attempt to interrupt her stop her.
“And you both remember why I’m here, right? You both act like we’re truly becoming friends, like I’m not some grubby, shoplifting loser—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Madeline said firmly, holding up her hand.
Vic shut up. Sheesh, it was terrible how effective that simple line and its accompanying gesture was. She was going to remember it.
“Yes,” Gwen said in a gently rebuking tone. “I really thought we were becoming friends—or, in your and my case, returning to being friends after being in different towns for a while.”
“A while? Thirty-plus years,” Vic said.
Gwen waggled her eyebrows comically. “I didn’t specify how long ‘a while’ was.”
Vic shook her head but had to grin back.
“Wow,” Madeline said. “This was a big can of worms from one little casual invite.”
Here it comes, Vic thought. Madeline will tactfully rescind her invitation because I’m crazy.
“I still hope you’ll come. By yourself—or with Cal. Or with anyone. Your choice.”
Vic stared at Madeline. “You are . . . unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Sorry, that wasn’t an insult, just an observation.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“She does.”
Come to think of it, Vic was pretty sure she’d already told Madeline that herself more than once.
Vic shook her head again—something she was doing so often during this conversation that she was starting to feel like a bobblehead.
She couldn’t believe what she was going to say next, but hey, she had a captive audience.
Besides, they were the ones who’d opened—as Madeline said—this whole can of worms.
“Okay, okay, as you guessed, I do like Cal,” she confessed, giving Madeline a pointed look, then swinging her gaze to Gwen. “He is lovely, and for all of one evening I thought about pursuing him.” She gave them a brief recap of her crazy-person night and the following equally weirdo texts.
“So even if he was still, um, romantically interested, and I’m sure after all that he’s not—my reasons for stopping it before it started haven’t changed.
If anything, well—” Vic motioned expansively with both hands as if to present their current conversation as evidence.
“You see how I am. How dysregulated. How nuts. How many times have I flown off the handle just with you personally, Madeline?”
Madeline shrugged. “I think you’re harder on yourself than you deserve—and you’re definitely starting to modulate yourself better.”
Vic sighed. Madeline was impossible! “Maybe, maybe not—but there’s also, though you both seem intent on ignoring it, my compulsive stealing.
My inability to have a decent relationship, like I’ve mentioned before—and not just with men.
With my mother. With my own kid . . . I’m not just a walking red flag. I’m a whole parade.”
Gwen giggled—then looked horrified and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not funny. How you’re feeling, I mean. Just I liked your red flag parade image.”
“Yeah,” Madeline said seriously. “If you wanted to do some little cartoons or paintings around that theme, I’m sure we could sell them.”
Vic snort-laughed despite herself. Then was shocked when, even though distraught, her brain flashed the cutest little image at her. “Okay, weird—I might come up with something there.”
“Goodie!” Madeline clapped her hands once. “But back to your dilemma.”
“My dilemma?”
“Yes, like you and I talked about before. You’re going through a lot. Growing a lot.”
“Mmhm?” Vic eyed Madeline slightly suspiciously.
“And clearly this Brent jerk hurt you deeply, so if you need time to heal and figure things out, that is, of course, fine and healthy.”
Gwen nodded. “And at the same time . . . if it’s just insecurity or worry that you’re not healed enough for a relationship, well . . . isn’t all of life one long journey of growth and healing? We never arrive—or not in my experience anyway.”
Madeline nodded in agreement. “We can’t put off living until some magic, perfectly healed time. It doesn’t exist. Some of us are always going to have scars. It’s just a matter of finding someone who will be tender with ours—and doing the harder job of being tender with ourselves.”
Vic looked at Madeline, then at Gwen. These two women with their gorgeous, bright eyes—eyes filled with excitement and kindness—and their lovely faces, touched by time, laughter, and wisdom won in hard times.
She sniffled again. “It’s still just hard for me to believe .
. . I look at you guys and spend time with you guys, and I do feel like we’re friends.
Actual friends. Even though I’m still 90% shitshow.
” She blinked, then said, feeling so shy it hurt to squeeze the words out. “Are we . . . friends, that is?”
You are such a child, Devil said, but the snide comment hardly registered because Madeline laughed. “Yes, we are—and phew! I’m so relieved you’re finally getting it through your thick head.”
But Gwen patted Vic’s hand softly and didn’t joke. “We definitely are. And you forget, I’ve known you since we were kids. We’re not just friends. We’re old friends.”
Madeline’s expression grew serious too. “And I sincerely hope you and I will one day be old friends as well. We’ll be quite the trio.” She got up and started gathering their plates.
“One last thing before we head out, Vic . . .”
“Yeah?
“90% is a definite improvement. Last time you bellyached about this, you claimed to be a solid 99%.”