Lost Along the Way (9 page)

“It's not broken—it's just . . . not working at the moment,” Jane said, trying very hard not to panic.

“What if we broke it?” Meg whispered to Jane as they blindly banged on the machine, trying to bring it back to life. It was pointless. It had flatlined.

“Well, what do we care? Cara won't be on the tennis team next year, and I'm pretty sure they'll replace it by then.”

“But that means we damaged school property! We can get in a lot of trouble for this! What if someone saw us? What if they dust the tennis balls for prints and find out it was us? Can they keep us from graduating?”

“You really need to stop watching Court TV. No one is going to dust tennis balls for prints, you lunatic. You're overreacting! Who's going to find us anyway? There's no one here!”

“Hey! Who's over there?” a security guard called from the far perimeter of the court, waving a flashlight in their direction.

“Oh shit! Run!” Jane said, grabbing the duffel bag off the ground but leaving the bolt cutters and tennis balls behind.

“Oh my God!” Meg squealed for the millionth time as she took off for the gate, her strides somewhat inhibited by the skirt she was wearing. “I can't go to jail! I want to go to Vanderbilt!”

“Shut up and run, Meg!” Cara yelled as she tore through the gate ahead of the others and made her way to the parking lot. Jane had insisted that Cara park her car a block away from school, which at the time had seemed totally unnecessary, but now made perfect sense. No middle-aged security guard was going to catch three teenage girls running at a full sprint, and by the time he got to the street they'd be long gone. Once again, Jane had thought it all out.

Jane heard Meg's footsteps behind her, and off in the distance saw the dim glow of the guard's flashlight as they ran from the courts. Then, a cry from Meg.

“Owwww!” she yelled. Cara turned to see what happened but never broke stride.

“Are you okay? Come on, Meg! Run! If we get caught they might not let us graduate tomorrow!” Jane said.

“You said I was overreacting to worry about that!”

“I lied!”

“I'm going to kill you, Jane! And I think I just ripped off part of my skirt!”

“What?” Jane asked as they continued to sprint toward the car.

“How the hell did you do that?” Cara called.

“It got stuck on a spike on the fence! I hurt my butt!”

Cara and Jane burst out laughing as they reached the car, both of them exhausted from running and the adrenaline of the last caper they'd ever pull together in high school. All three climbed into the car and they sped off, Cara driving with Jane beside her in the passenger seat and Meg nestled in the back, the same seats
they'd always sat in since they'd learned how to drive. Jane had gotten her driver's license first, but for some reason even though Cara had turned seventeen a few months after her, she still was the de facto chauffeur. No one asked where Cara was headed because they already knew. They'd made this drive down toward the beach multiple times a week, using the time in the car to talk about boys or school or anything else that they needed to discuss without worrying about their mothers overhearing the conversation. Jane exhaled loudly as she stared at the dirt that disappeared into underbrush and darkness just a few feet in front of her. Cara pulled her car over onto the shoulder of the road, put it in park, and turned off the headlights. Jane realized she'd be nervous sitting in the dark on these back roads if she hadn't done it thousands of times before.

“Okay, let's see it,” Jane said as she turned from the passenger seat to get a look at Meg's injury.

Meg leaned to her left in the backseat to reveal a huge tear in the back of her skirt and a large red scratch on the bottom of her ass.

“Is it bad?” Meg asked.

“Oh my God,” Jane squealed. “Only you would manage to hurt your butt on a fence you weren't even climbing over. How does that happen?”

Cara was near hysterics. “You're right, Meg. You should stay in the kitchen. I love you but you are not meant to be outdoors.”

“You guys!” Meg giggled. “This isn't funny! What am I going to tell my mom? What if I get tetanus?”

“How is your mom going to know that you have a giant cut on your ass?” Jane asked.

“She won't! But she's definitely going to ask why my skirt is ripped! I told her we were going for frozen yogurt!”

“Tell her the truth. That you snagged it on a fence at school. The fact that it occurred while we were trespassing, breaking and entering, damaging private property, and then fleeing from security are details that she probably doesn't need.”

“You left the bolt cutters on the court, you know,” Meg said. “The poor man who gave them to you is probably going to get into a lot of trouble.”

“I'm sure he'll talk his way out of it. Besides, it's not like we did anything terrible. We hit a few tennis balls after hours. So what?” Jane said.

“And broke the lock on the gate,” Cara added.

“And then broke the ball machine,” Meg said.

“Right. And we broke a few things,” Jane admitted. “So what? It's not like we hurt anyone.”

“How do you feel?” Meg asked Cara. “Was it worth it?”

“I feel better,” Cara said.

“When you think about it, being angry over losing a boyfriend is stupid. You'll meet someone better at college and would have broken up with Mark anyway, so really all he did was speed up your timeline by a few months,” Jane said.

“Totally,” Meg agreed.

“Whatever. I'm not going to let that loser embarrass me like that. I am way too good for him anyway,” Cara said.

“Totally!” Meg said again.

“Thanks, guys. I really did need that.” Cara sighed. She reached over and tucked the piece of hair that for some reason refused to grow long enough to fit in Jane's ponytail behind her ear. “What am I going to do without you guys at school?”

“You'll probably commit fewer crimes without Jane around,” Meg teased.

“If that was supposed to hurt my feelings, it didn't.”

“I'm just kidding,” Meg reassured her.

“Anyway, I guess we can check breaking into school off our list of things to do before we graduate, right?” Cara asked. “So we have that going for us.”

“Exactly!” Jane said. She laughed and felt so proud of herself for being able to change Cara's entire mood. “And we can thank Mark for being such a moron that he made that little outing necessary. Without him we wouldn't have that awesome memory to look back on now.”

“I still really wish I could just break his nose,” Cara said.

“Maybe next time,” Jane promised. “For now, breaking the ball machine will have to be sufficient.”

J
ane heard the back door close and the car start in the driveway, which snapped her mind back to the present. She entered the kitchen and found Cara leaning against the refrigerator with her arms wrapped around her middle, staring at the ceiling. Jane had no doubt that if she had slept in five minutes later, she'd have come down to the kitchen and found Cara toasting English muffins. Five more minutes, and Cara might have been able to hide this from her entirely.

“Good morning. What day is today?” Jane asked, trying to figure out if she should let Cara know she had overheard everything.

“Friday,” Cara said, forcing a smile.

“I have my days all mixed up. They became harder to keep straight once I started sleeping through them, you know?”

“I could see how that'd be a problem. Do you want coffee? I made some earlier.” Cara opened a cabinet, reaching for a coffee mug on the top shelf.

“I'd love some. But please be careful, I'd hate to see what happens if you break a mug or something,” Jane said casually, deciding that in this new phase of her life, honesty would always be the best policy—even if that meant intruding on things that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

“You heard that?”

“Hard not to.”

“Please, Jane, I don't need a lecture. I let you stay here because
you had nowhere to go, not because I wanted you to get involved. Just stay out of it.”

“Stay out of it? Are you joking? Cara, what are you doing listening to this crap? How long has this been going on? Please, please don't tell me since you got married or I swear to God I'll scream.”

“It's none of your business, Jane.”

“Yes, it is. You're my friend and I love you, and that makes it my business whether you like it or not.”

“How can you think you have a right to say anything when we haven't spoken in years?”

“I'm invoking a grandfather clause. And I may not have seen you for a long time, but I'd never, ever speak to you like that.”

“Well, doesn't that just make you friend of the year. Should I go try to find my half of the ‘best friends forever' necklace we had in fifth grade? I'll put it back on to commemorate this special moment between us.” If Cara was hoping her comment would get Jane to back off, she was wasting her time. Jane knew her moves better than anyone, and sarcasm was not going to be a strong enough weapon to make her drop the topic.

“Cara, you don't have to be defensive. None of this is your fault.”

“I'm sorry,” Cara said, rubbing her brow. “I'm just so tired of being put down all the time. I shouldn't take my anger out on you. At least not for this. There are other things I can be mad at you for, but you have nothing to do with this.”

“I meant what I said. It's not your fault.”

“That's not entirely true. I married him.
That's
my fault.”

“Well yeah, that was your fault. Now you see why I couldn't bring myself to stay at your wedding. Your husband is a fucking asshole! Who gets that upset over a box of rice?”

“He's gotten worse over the years. I don't know what happened. It's like he's just become more and more controlling and now it's to the point where I'm afraid to get dressed. I'm afraid to go to the store. I can't get out of bed in the morning without him telling me that I'm doing something wrong. I feel like the air is being sucked out of my lungs.”

“Is that why you're sleeping in the second bedroom?”

“You noticed?”

“Once again, hard not to.”

“Thanks for not saying anything yesterday.”

“I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to be able to stay quiet.”

“You haven't even been here for a day.”

“Yes, well, I never could keep my mouth shut.”

Jane took Cara by the elbow and led her over to the kitchen table. They sat in silence for a minute while Cara fidgeted with the cuffs of her shirt and Jane stared at the clock on the wall, searching for words. There was a time when she wouldn't have had to censor what she said, but those days were gone, and the woman sitting in front of her didn't seem to want to talk. Jane figured she'd wait her out. It wasn't like she had anywhere to be.

“I'm so ashamed,” Cara finally said. “Everyone in town thinks he's this great guy. That we're a perfect couple. They're like fucking lemmings who just follow along behind Reed and the bullshit act he puts on every time he leaves this house. The other women think I wear these pearls every day because I'm trying to make some kind of Audrey Hepburn fashion statement, and I wear them because he bought them for me for our anniversary a few years ago and told me that he never wanted me to take them off. I thought he was kidding, you know? The next day I came
down for breakfast without them on, and he berated me for an hour about how I take him for granted, how I'm unappreciative of everything he does for me, how I'm spoiled and assume that I deserve nice things when I haven't done anything to earn them. It was so awful that I just kept them on after that. I mean, it's not like they're ugly or anything. I figured if it would keep him happy, and he'd leave me alone, I'd wear them. No big deal. That was five years ago. I'd have hanged myself with them by now if they were long enough.”

“I guess neither one of us were the best judges of character, were we?”

“No. And we thought we had it all figured out when we got married. We were young and stupid,” Cara said.

“Maybe you can claim being young and stupid. I was almost thirty. I should've known better. I clearly remember feeling like I'd won the lottery when I walked out of City Hall on Doug's arm. Why couldn't I see that he was a phony?”

“I saw it. You rushed into it, but you weren't going to listen to anyone, and I wasn't going to try to stop you. I knew it would've been a complete waste of time. You always do things on your own terms, for better or for worse.”

“This is very clearly for worse.”

“Yeah. I guess it's always harder to look at your own life the way you look at your friends' lives.”

“That's why you didn't see what I saw in Reed. Nothing I did was out of jealousy, Cara. I swear. I wanted to be happy for you, but it just made me ill to see you guys together. I knew you could do better. I don't know how I knew, but I knew.”

“It's too bad you didn't have the same feelings for yourself.”

“Tell me about it. Maybe I felt pressure to keep up with you
and Meg. I hated feeling like you guys were moving on with your lives, and I was just standing still. I hated feeling like you guys pitied me. I don't think it's why I got married, but I think it contributed to how quickly I said yes. If I'd waited, maybe I would've seen something. Now I've gone and fucked up my entire life. I'm in no position to give advice to anyone.”

“I know there's not much of a bright side for you, but at least now you can start over. Doug's gone, but Reed's coming home. I don't know what I'm going to do,” Cara said. She suddenly seemed so small and vulnerable. It astounded Jane to think that she'd bought into Cara's act and actually believed that everything was going well in her life. She should've known better . . .

“Why can't you?”

“What are you talking about? I've been married for twelve years. There's no starting over for me.”

Jane had an idea. This was not how she'd thought this was going to end up when she made her wildly impetuous decision to come out to Long Island, but circumstances had changed. There was a reason things happened this way—timing, fate, cosmic intervention, whatever you want to call it—and she wasn't going to miss the opportunity. This time, she wasn't going to disappoint her friend. “Let's get out of here,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and me. Let's leave. I'm hiding from everyone anyway, and you can't stay here. Not with him. Not anymore.”

“I can't just walk out on my marriage, Jane,” Cara said. “It's not that simple.”

“This isn't a marriage anymore. I'm not saying never come back, but let's just get out of here together. Let's do some soul search
ing, reconnect, get some distance from our problems. Maybe it will help us both figure out what we need to do from here.”

“I have a job, too.” Cara reminded her.

“Your job is flexible and you know it. Do you have any standing appointments?”

“No,” Cara admitted. “I don't.”

“Then that's not a reason to stay.”

“I think you're having a midlife crisis,” Cara said.

“Did your darling husband tell you that when he called you
middle-aged
?”

“That makes you middle-aged, too,” she quipped.

“Exactly. Come on, I can't go without you.”

“Yes, you can,” Cara said.

“No, seriously, I can't. I don't have a car. Or money. I spent it all on cab fare.”

“Where do you suggest we go? If I check into a hotel somewhere and put it on our credit card, he'll throw a fit. Not to mention the fact that you're media bait and the last thing I need is my picture in the newspaper because I'm standing next to you. No. This will only make everything worse.”

“Cara, your mother would want nothing more than for you to get the hell out of this house, and you know it. I never supported your marriage, and now look, I'm back and your mother is gone. I'm sure you'd rather have it the other way around and I don't blame you. But if you think that she'd be okay with what just happened here this morning, with what's been happening for the last decade, you're kidding yourself. So if you don't want to do it for me, do it for her. And let me help you.”

The mention of her mother made Cara burst into tears. “That
was a cheap shot,” she said as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her pocket.

“I'm sorry. But it's true,” Jane said.

“I know it is. I shouldn't have to live like this. I shouldn't have to be a guest in my own home, and I shouldn't have to buy one box of rice at a time if I don't want to.”

“No, you shouldn't. You should be able to buy every fucking box of rice in the grocery store if you feel like it.”

“I can't keep going on like this,” Cara said.

“Does that mean you'll come?” Jane asked.

“Come where? Where exactly are we going to go?”

“I don't know. There has to be somewhere. Let's call Meg. Maybe she'll have an idea,” Jane said.

“Meg and Steve bought a summer house in Montauk a few years ago,” Cara stammered. “But I don't know if involving her in any of this is the best idea.”

“They did?” Jane asked, instantly feeling like things were falling into place. “That's perfect! Why don't we call Meg and ask her if we can go out there for a few days and regroup? Maybe we can even convince her to come out and stay with us. It's perfect, Cara. It's empty out there this time of year. I haven't seen her in way too long, and I really would like for us all to be together. Will you call and ask her?”

“No,” Cara said firmly. “Forget I said anything. I'm not calling her and we're not going there.”

“Why not? You can't tell me that she has no idea any of this is going on. Even if she hasn't said anything to you about it, I promise you she knows. You don't need to hide what's going on from either of us.”

“It's not that. It's just that things between us are compli
cated. I don't really want to get into it right now, just trust me when I tell you that I think it's probably best to leave Meg alone.”

It had never occurred to Jane that Cara and Meg would've encountered problems of their own, but she tried not to let the shock register on her face. Right now, it was more important for them both to leave town than for her to hear the details of their issues. “We can talk about whatever happened between the two of you later. I promise you, we can work it out. Hey, yesterday you never thought that you and I would be on good terms, and here we are, about to go all Thelma and Louise on our husbands.”

“You say that like it's a good thing,” Cara said.

“It's better than the alternative.”

“That's what Thelma and Louise thought, too,” Cara said. “They both ended up dead.”

“Come on. You won't call her and ask her if we can use her house? You know what? I'll call her.”

“She changed her number,” Cara said. “I don't know how to get hold of her. She doesn't answer my e-mails. It's not that I don't want to call her. It's that I
can't.”

“Seriously?” Jane asked, stunned.

“Yes.”

“Jeez. Here I thought I was the only one having problems.”

“Not exactly.”

“Okay. I have an idea. We can talk about it in the car, but I really think we should get going. Stop stalling,” Jane said.

“Just give me a few minutes to pack, okay?” Cara said.

Jane felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. Had she really just convinced Cara to run away?

“Just don't bring those pearls. Actually, wait. I'm coming with you. We can leave Reed a note.”

Upstairs in the second bedroom, Jane watched as Cara packed pajamas, a few pairs of jeans, a pair of sneakers, three sweaters (none of them white), every pair of underwear she owned, and her toiletries. She placed everything in the tote bag she kept tucked in the back of her closet behind her heavy winter coats and walked back to the master bedroom she had been evicted from. “Where do you keep your stationery?” Jane asked, following behind her. Jane grabbed a pen out of her purse.

Cara opened the drawer in the nightstand next to the bed and removed a small white box. “Here. This is what Reed uses to send thank-you notes.”

“Such a good WASP. What is he saying thank you for? The latest round of golf or bottle of scotch or fucking carved wooden mallard to add to the shelf in his library?”