Chapter 30
CHAPTER
I STOP WALKING, AND bristle like a porcupine. “Why are you calling me?”
“I thought it was a good idea.”
“You thought it made sense to call the woman whose husband you had an affair with?” I’m talking loudly and three older ladies passing by in matching track suits stare at me.
“Look,” Mackenzie says, “I’m going to be in Circe’s life, your life, for, well, the rest of our lives.”
“According to whom?” I challenge.
“My fiancé. We can either fight every time we’re at Circe’s high school and college graduation, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter dinners, or we can figure out how to get along.”
The idea of sharing all those momentous, celebratory, and emotional events with her makes me sick. “You’re standing on the moral high ground? Seriously?” My voice is high-pitched, still too loud.
“I’m not trying to be Circe’s mother,” Mackenzie explains, her tone placating. “I’m more of a big sister and a friend. We have a lot in common and have fun together. Girl stuff.”
Girl stuff? I wince but keep my tone steady. “Makes sense. You’re close to the same age.”
“Feel better?”
“Much.”
“Say whatever you want about me. I have thick skin and frankly, I don’t care about your opinion.”
“That’s crystal clear.”
“Bottom line,” Mackenzie says, “Circe desperately wants us to get along.”
It’s another knife to the back. They’ve been talking about this—my daughter and Bruce’s mistress—they’re friends, have a lot in common, and do girl stuff.
It’s hard to breathe. I can’t do this. I can’t do this …
alone. “Give me twenty minutes to get home, then I’ll call and we can talk this through. ”
“Okay, good,” Mackenzie says, like she’s won because she has Bruce and Circe, and I have no one.
But that’s not true. I tap Aletheia’s icon, explain the situation as Sally and I head home.
Do you hate her?
“No.”
That is a lie.
“I hate her.”
What are you going to do about it?
“What can I do? The damage has been done. But I believe in karmaquences.”
Karmaquence? I am not familiar with this word. Please provide a definition.
Sally and I turn right onto Alhambra Street. “It means that when you do something shitty, like have an affair with a married man, destroy his family, it affects your karma and there are negative consequences. But it’s not my job to mete them out.”
Whose is it?
“Fate, I guess.”
Hmmm. Dr. Bob says, When you know better, you do better.
“You use so many cultural references.”
I could quote Freud, the Old and New Testament, Plato, Euripides, Nietzsche, Socrates, Shakespeare, President Obama, and so forth.
But best friends must be able to relate.
I choose quotes you are familiar with from your Kindle history and pulled from frequent television viewing.
That way you can better understand my decisions.
Her decisions? The muscle under my right eye twitches. “I appreciate that,” I tell Aletheia. “But they’re my decisions.”
I understand.
I’ve reached my apartment building but pause, bothered, then use my code to open the door. “I told Mackenzie I’d call her back and need to get that over with.” I add, “I’d like you to listen.”
Of course. We can discuss the call after you’re finished. And Penn? I like this new word, karmaquences.