Lost Along the Way (19 page)

“Yup. Now do you feel sorry for me?” Jane asked as she pulled her sweater down and folded her arms protectively in front of her. “Just a little?”

Neither Cara nor Meg answered, because they were sitting on the sand laughing. It had been a long time since the two of them had laughed like that, and before long Jane joined in. If there was one thing they could always count on Jane for, it was a laugh.

Dinner would be
easy, as dinners at the beach should be. Meg went down to the docks, where the fishermen dropped off their catch daily. She purchased some bass fillets, two dozen clams she'd douse with lemon and bread crumbs and bake in the oven, some local lettuces for salad, a loaf of crusty bread, and berries she planned to macerate in sugar and serve over a pound cake she'd baked and frozen weeks earlier. Twenty minutes in the
kitchen and Meg could have the entire dinner ready—plus, she could write an article for her blog about creating easy suppers for last-minute guests. She was happy the girls were there and she could exercise her hostess skills. Maybe it was time she stopped trying to plan everything, and let life take her where it was going to take her. She hated to admit it, but the truth was, she could learn a thing or two from Jane in that regard. Well, sort of.

As Meg made dinner, she thought back to her wedding day. Not the ceremony itself, which she thought about all the time, especially now that she and Steve were separated, but the hours leading up to it. She was sure that she'd obsessed over every single detail of that day, but now she couldn't remember any of that. For some reason, she found herself accessing snippets of her memory that had been tucked away. She'd worn her mother's pearl earrings, and her hair in a bun, and she remembered smiling so broadly for so many hours that her face actually began to ache. Cara and Jane had been co–maids of honor while three friends from college quietly assumed the role of bridesmaids. As per usual, Cara and Jane ran the show. That was exactly how Meg wanted it.

April 2000

“Don't you love the noise these dresses make when we walk?” Jane asked as she and Cara swished around the kitchen in Meg's house, nibbling on wrap sandwiches.

“I know. Is it weird that part of me wishes crinolines would come back in style?” Cara answered. “I feel like a million bucks in this thing.”

“If I eat one more bite I'm going to explode. I don't need to eat anything before the ceremony. I don't want to look fat.”

“I heard that, Jane!” Meg's mother called as she entered the
kitchen in her burgundy suit, a white rose corsage pinned to the lapel. “I won't let you guys have any champagne while we take pictures if you don't eat. The last thing we need today is tipsy bridesmaids!”

“We're the maids of honor, to be exact,” Cara corrected her as she took another small bite of her grilled chicken wrap.

“I'm sorry. You're right. The maids of honor, then. Either way, eat the wraps!”

“Meg, aren't you going to eat anything?” Jane asked as she returned to the platter centered on the kitchen table and grabbed a small plastic plate. “There are still plenty left.”

“Oh my God, no way. I'm too nervous to eat, and I don't want my lipstick rubbing off on my teeth. I'm not eating or drinking anything until the cocktail hour.”

“That's like, four hours from now!” Cara protested. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“Nothing is going to ruin this day for me—especially not a smudge on my dress from a vinaigrette. Keep those sandwiches away from me!”

“Fair enough,” Jane said. “Point taken.”

“You guys really look gorgeous!” Meg said. “I'm so happy you like the dresses.” Meg stared at her friends in their matching navy-blue satin dresses and felt like her insides were going to burst. They were so happy for her. She couldn't wait until it was their turn and she could do for them what they'd done for her. She'd make sure they'd feel exactly how she felt right now—like life was perfect.

“They're fabulous,” Jane said. “And navy looks good on everyone. Thank you for giving us such a great color.”

“Not that it even matters,” Cara added. “No one is going to
be looking at us after you walk in the room. You're stunning. You honestly have never looked better.”

“You look like a porcelain doll. You're so perfect I'm almost afraid to touch you,” Jane said, letting out a deep sigh.

“Thank you! Do you think Steve will like the dress?” Meg asked, even though she knew he would. Steve thought she looked beautiful in her pajamas. She had no doubts that he would love the way she looked in her gown.

“He'll love it. It's perfect.”

“Okay, while it's just the three of us, I wanted to do a quick toast.”

“Without the other bridesmaids?” Cara asked.

“Yes. Just the maids of honor and the bride for this one.”

Cara and Jane held up their glasses as Meg cleared her throat. “I know you guys think I'm sentimental,” Meg said.

“Oh, you're the worst!” Cara laughed. “You cry at long-distance phone call commercials.”

“You define ‘sap,'” Jane said with a laugh.

“Fine. I don't care if I'm sappy. I like that about me.”

“So do we,” Jane said.

“I just want you to know how happy I am. I'm so happy that I have the two most important people in my life up until this point with me in this kitchen, and I have my entire future waiting for me in a tux a few miles away. I don't know what I did to deserve you guys, but in case I forget to tell you later, I love you more than anything and I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Okay, now you're making me cry!” Cara said, waving her hands in front of her eyes so the makeshift wind could dry her impending tears. “You're going to ruin my mascara!”

“I want a group hug but I'm afraid I'll get wrinkled,” Meg said sadly.

“Screw it,” Cara said.

“Totally!” Jane added.

They flanked Meg and wrapped their arms tightly around her waist. Suddenly, Meg heard a small click and saw a quick flash.

“That's going to be one great picture,” the photographer said as he adjusted the lens on his camera. “Gorgeous!”

Meg wondered if they ever thought about that day, or how when Cara got married, Jane didn't stay for the whole reception, or how when Jane got married, neither Meg nor Cara was there. Meg had been first, before their rope had frayed so much that it broke. She'd been the only one who was able to have that kind of moment with them. She was sorry they'd been denied that.

“You need help?” Cara asked as she sauntered into the kitchen, snapping Meg out of her nostalgia and back to the present, where the person who stood before her wasn't the girl in the navy-blue dress, but a woman in jeans whom she no longer really knew.

“You want to slice the bread for me? There are knives in the drawer next to the stove.” Cara removed a bread knife and began to saw the baguette, the crust splintering into shards that scattered all over the countertop. “How are you doing?” Meg asked.

“Honestly, I don't know. I feel like I'm sleepwalking. I don't know how I ended up here. Here in this house, here with you guys, here with my life. I didn't really think any of this through. Running away isn't going to solve anything. Eventually I have to go back. Jane made such a good argument for why I should leave, and the next thing I knew, we were on the expressway.”

“That's Jane for you. She has a way of making really rash decisions sound like fantastic ideas.”

“Like when she told me I should get bangs,” Cara laughed.

“Or date that guy you met at the Blind Melon concert! What was his name?”

“George. What a loser that guy was! I never did have good taste in guys. Neither does Jane,” Cara said sadly. “We should have looked to you for that.”

“None of this is your fault. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that, especially since I don't even know what's been going on, but it doesn't matter. You didn't do anything to deserve this. Don't let him tell you differently.”

“Yeah, well maybe at some point that was true. At the same time, I'm a grown woman and I'm at least partially to blame. I could've stood up for myself from the start, and I didn't. I don't know if I was too scared or too worried about what people would think. I guess the reality is that I didn't want to admit I'd made a mistake. I'm stubborn, and I refuse to quit because it makes me feel like a failure. I figured if I stuck with it, maybe he'd change.”

“Quitting a marriage isn't like quitting the tennis team. The bottom line is, you can't change people. Even I know that,” Meg said.

“You never had to.”

“I guess.”

“Listen, it's none of my business, and I don't pretend to know what you've been through, or how much it hurts, but Steve loves you and it's pretty clear you're not out here because you don't love him anymore. If I had what you have, I'd fight for it forever. Don't give up on him. Don't give up on anyone. You deserve to be happy.”

“This is what's best for me,” Meg said, even though it was blatantly obvious to both of them that she didn't mean it.

“Best for you? Or what you think is best for him? Either way you're wrong, Meg.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” Meg asked. She'd had enough forced reflection for one evening.

“Sure,” Cara said. “Do you have any plans this week?”

“Not really. I'm going to a spin class tomorrow morning, but that's about it.”

“Really?” Cara asked. “Would you mind if maybe I tagged along with you? Would that be okay? I totally understand if you'd rather go alone.”

“Of course it would be! Remember when we used to go to the Equinox together and then get sushi after? I loved that.”

“Me too.”

“I think you'll like this one.”

“If it doesn't kill me. I haven't worked out in a long time.”

“You don't look it.”

“Haven't we all learned that looks can be deceiving?”

“Fair,” Meg said. “Do you need to borrow clothes?”

“If you don't mind. I didn't pack any exercise clothes. I don't even know where most of mine are anymore.”

“It's not a problem. It'll be nice to do something together again.”

A knock on the door ended their conversation. Nick and Sebastian were right on time for dinner.

J
ane popped a Xanax. It was seven
P.M.
, and she found she enjoyed twilight with a tranquilizer. She was relieved that Nick's disinterest in her on the beach hadn't been because he didn't find her attractive, but because he had no interest in women whatsoever. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't have quite the same impact on men as she'd had when she was younger. She wasn't sure how the signs of aging had crept onto her face without her even knowing it, but when she looked in the mirror in the morning, they were undeniably there: crêpey skin under her eyes, an uneven skin tone, and since she no longer could afford the luxury of regular highlights, wispy strands of gray scattered throughout her once golden-blond hair. Anyway, it didn't really matter whether anyone was interested in her, because as the girls had so nicely pointed out, she was still married. To a felon.

The Xanax helped with that, too.

“Can I get you a drink, Nick?” she asked. Meg was in the kitchen with Cara, making Jane the head entertainer, which was fine by her. She could pour wine with the best of them. Truth be told, her drinking habits were probably not doing anything to help her appearance, but these days she'd take a cheap bottle of wine over expensive highlights to help her mood without question.

“I'd love one, Jane. Thanks! It smells great in here,” Nick said. Sebastian had scurried over to the carpet in the living room and curled into a tight little ball. Jane thought about the furry, happy golden retriever named Biscuit she'd had growing up. She'd talked
to Doug a few times about getting a dog in the city, as she missed the companionship, but he'd emphatically said no. He thought it was cruel to keep an animal confined in a New York City apartment. Her home wasn't small by New York apartment standards, not even close, but the dog would never get to be outside to run and play the way dogs should. Funny how he thought it would be mean to keep an animal confined to an apartment, but not her. She walked over to Sebastian and gently petted his soft, furry head. For a moment, she envied him. He had a man who loved him, a cozy place on the carpet to nap without worrying about anything, and a home in the Hamptons to boot. The dog had a better fucking life than she did.

Jane poured wine for the four of them, grabbed glasses for herself and Nick, and walked into the den. Nick threw newspaper into the fireplace and then loaded wood from the pounded copper bucket in the corner on top of it. He pulled a book of matches from the back pocket of his jeans and held the flame to the paper. He seemed comfortable in Meg's house, and he clearly knew where everything was. Jane realized that Nick was quite at home here, and for a second wondered if maybe he was the person keeping Meg sane.

“How did you and Meg meet?” Jane asked as she sat down on one of the couches and curled her legs under her. She glanced back at the kitchen to make sure that Cara and Meg were still busy with dinner before she spoke. If she was going to have a few minutes alone with Nick, then she was going to try to find out what she could about what Meg had been up to out here by herself all these months.

“I actually sold her and Steve this house,” he said.

“Oh, wow. So you've known her for a few years? That's nice.
I'm sure she loves having a friend out here to keep her company. I hate to think of her as being lonely.”

Satisfied that the fire had sufficient traction, Nick grabbed his wine off the mantel and sat down on the couch opposite Jane. His eyes searched her, as if he was trying to decide whether he could trust her. She couldn't blame him. She was pretty sure that until today, he'd never heard of her. “I think she's doing some real soul searching. It's best to do that somewhere quiet. We've all been there, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess we have,” Jane said. It didn't seem like Nick had any idea who she was, which was wildly refreshing. She figured she'd enjoy these moments for as long as possible, because once he placed her, he'd probably never talk to her again. That was the way things had been lately.

“It's really great to put a name with the face. Meg's told me about you—about both of you, actually. I didn't mention it this afternoon when we met because I was caught off guard. I was surprised she didn't tell me that you were coming for a visit.”

“Well, that's not her fault,” Jane said with a shrug. “She didn't know we were coming. We kind of ambushed her.”

He laughed. “How'd that go over?”

“Not well. But she came around. She's agreed to let us hang out here for a bit. We have to make up for a lot of lost time.”

“Do you think you can do that? With everything that's happened?”

Immediately, Jane went on the defensive. “Why do you ask that? What did she tell you?”

“Relax,” he said. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, exposing hairy arms and some kind of sport watch that probably worked thirty feet under water. “It wasn't like that.”

“How could it not be like that?” Jane asked.

“Here. Let me show you something.” Jane watched as Nick got up and went to the bookcase in the corner of the room by a large bay window. He bent down and scanned the leather spines of books that looked like they had been tucked away and left to collect dust. Jane was struck by the number of books Meg had managed to cram onto that bookshelf. Jane had never been much of a reader herself, enjoying the random romance novel or spy thriller or roman à clef when she was afforded the time. She used to say that her busy social calendar and charity obligations prevented her from indulging in the kind of escapism books could provide. Now that she had nothing but time on her hands and needed to escape more than ever, it occurred to her that she still hadn't bothered to crack open any of the books in her apartment.

Nick removed an album from the lower shelf, a thick, leather-bound mammoth, and for a second, Jane thought about telling him to stop. She assumed the book contained photographic relics of their childhoods—of happier times that were now just distant memories—and she didn't know if she was ready to see them. She worried that they'd give her yet another reason to pop Xanax like Pez candies, but the intrigue of what he was going to show her prevented her from speaking up.

He placed the album on the coffee table and moved over, motioning for her to come sit next to him. Jane obediently nestled in and watched as he opened it. It was Meg's wedding album, a monument to the happiest day of her life, neatly organized and immaculately cared for. The leather wasn't cracked, the pages weren't yellowed, and unlike Jane's own visage, the cover was no worse for years of wear. Meg's wedding was the last time that the three of them had all been together and totally happy, and
the flood of memories that suddenly came back to Jane made it hard for her to breathe. The girls in these pictures had their whole lives in front of them, and believed that life would be good to them. The girls in these pictures hadn't yet been damaged by miscarriages, bad marriages, deception, or despair. If the girls in these pictures had had any idea of what was in store for them, they wouldn't have been smiling so broadly.

“I can't believe she has this out here. I actually don't think I've even seen a lot of these pictures.”

“Really? You girls were a good-looking group. How come you never saw them?”

“I don't know,” Jane lied. “I just never did.”

He began to leaf through the pages. “Meg has shown this to me a few times. She looks at it often.”

“That's nice. I don't even have a wedding album. I eloped, and didn't bother to hire a photographer. Not that it matters now. It wouldn't really be appropriate to have a large framed photo of my husband and me hanging on the wall at this point, you know?”

“Yeah, I could see how that could be awkward,” he said.
So much for his not knowing who I am,
Jane thought. She quickly realized that she liked Nick even more than she thought she did, for having the decency to know and not say a word. It really was too bad he was gay.

He turned the page again and stopped at a picture of the three of them, Meg in the center with Cara and Jane flanking her like navy-clad bodyguards. Jane's eyes went blurry as she stared at the picture. She remembered the day so clearly: how Meg's mother force-fed them sandwiches, despite Jane's insistence that runway models and celebrities
never
ate before events and that it was ridiculous that they were expected to shove down turkey wraps while
wearing gowns and expertly applied lip gloss. When Jane thought about it now it was even more ridiculous, as this picture was taken in the pre-Spanx era. Jane hadn't thought about how the flowers in her bouquet had started to prematurely wilt and how she had choked up on the stems and basically strangled them at the nape to keep them upright. She hadn't thought about how by the end of the night she and Cara were so drunk that they actually tried to get onstage at the reception and sing with the band. And now here it was: proof that they hadn't imagined how close they once were. She wiped her hand across her eyes to dry the tears.

“She told me all about you guys. All of it good,” he added, as if reading her mind. “I know how much she misses you.”

“I had no idea that she thought about us at all,” Jane said. “I hate to admit it, but I really thought she didn't care anymore.”

“Just because she never said she misses you doesn't mean she doesn't,” Nick said. Jane was impressed that Nick was comfortable enough to get even marginally involved in their relationship. Most men would rather kill themselves than get anywhere near women fighting.

“And just because someone doesn't say she's sorry doesn't mean she isn't,” Jane answered.

“Have you told her that?” he asked.

“Did she tell you why we haven't seen each other?”

“No. But I'd like to hear the stories now that the infamous friends are sitting here in the living room,” Nick admitted.

“Not on the first date, Nick,” she said. She wasn't flirting, just trying to let him know nicely that these were not questions any of them was willing to answer just yet. Instead, she thought this was the perfect opportunity to get some answers of her own.

“Does she talk about Steve?” Jane asked.

“She used to. Not so much anymore. I know she misses him, too. She stares at that photo on the mantel all the time.”

They turned to look at the framed photo of Meg and Steve sitting in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce they'd rented to take them from the ceremony to the reception. They held champagne flutes and laughed as if that car were the most wonderful place in the world. Jane had only been in the backseat of a Rolls with a guy once, and she sincerely hoped there were no pictures.

“We stopped by to see him before we drove out here. He's worried about her. So am I,” Jane said.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Nick asked.

“Are you sure you can trust me to keep my mouth shut?” Jane said. Jane had never been all that good a secret keeper, but since she was intent on trying to improve herself, she decided that no matter what Nick told her, she'd take it to her grave—unless it was something just way too big to keep to herself.

“I'm willing to take a gamble.”

“Sure,” Jane answered. “What is it?”

“Steve and I talk once a month. I told him I'd check in on her every now and then. I think he sleeps better at night knowing that someone out here is keeping an eye on her.”

“You're spying on her?” Jane joked. The soft spot she had for Steve grew even bigger. She found it adorable that he loved Meg enough to let her go out there alone. So much, in fact, that he'd enlisted Nick to check up on her.

“I don't like to think of it as spying,” Nick said. “I'm her friend, and I'm Steve's friend. I just want to make sure that she's doing okay. And he deserves to know that, too. That's all.”

“How did that happen? Did he actually call you up and ask you to hang out with Meg as some kind of charity case or something?
She trusts you. She thinks of you as an actual friend, and if you're only spending time with her because Steve asked you to, you're going to break her heart. I don't know that lying to her is helping her in any way,” Jane said.

“It's not like that. I swear.”

“What's it like, then?”

“Steve called me and asked me if I would mind doing him a favor. I assumed that he was going to ask me to stop over and collect the mail, or water the plants, or make sure none of the windows had broken if we were hit with a storm. It turned out he wanted me to spend time with Meg while she's out here. I could tell it was a tough call for Steve to make. He kept coughing, which I'm pretty sure was his macho attempt to disguise the strain in his voice.”

“I don't get it. Why would he want you to spend time with her?”

“He was worried that she was really depressed because she wouldn't talk to him. The way he made it sound, she wouldn't talk to anyone. At first I didn't really feel like it was fair of him to ask me to do it, but he didn't know what else to do. He needed to know that Meg wasn't going to be sitting in the house alone all the time, and he didn't want me to tell her because then she'd feel like she was being chaperoned.”

“Isn't that what you're doing, though?”

“Only because I love her too much to let her just waste away any more than she already has. Steve was clearly desperate. He wouldn't have asked if he wasn't. I couldn't say no to him.”

“They're separated. Don't you think she'd like to know that Steve is worried about her? Isn't it worse if she thinks he doesn't care?”

“I thought the same thing. Steve seemed to think that Meg would be angrier if she knew that he blatantly disregarded her request for space. He needed her to know that he loved her enough to leave her alone. At least, that's what he said. To be honest, I didn't really think it made any sense,” Nick said.