#TripleX (29 page)

“Damn it. The sun’s coming up,” I whispered into the phone, sitting on the small balcony of our motel room. “We’ve been on the phone all night. She hasn’t come back yet. God,” I said, voice cracking. “This is all my fault. I should have never pushed her to come on this trip with me. Jake, I feel like I’m breaking up her marriage.”

“Chris, that’s not fair. She’s a grown woman making her own decisions. And I gotta tell you, I’ve witnessed their relationship go through the good and bad,” Jake said, his voice raspy from talking all night. “They will work through this.”

“Even if they do, I still feel guilty as Hell about taking part in the rift between them.”

“Stop. Their marriage is what they make of it. If they choose to leave each other, then you need to let it happen. But, knowing Matt the way I do, he won’t let her slip away so easily.” Jake argued. “So anyway… next stop is Vegas?”

End of their marriage?

Leave each other?

Oh God—this was all my fault.

“Yep, we’re almost to the end of our adventure,” I sighed, hating the idea of going back to my life and to the fighting and anguish that awaited me. The idea of seeing Scott and facing him made my stomach roll. I missed the girls, but that was all I missed about New York. And God, I didn’t want to even think about what was going to happen between Ang and Matt when this was all over. I would hate myself if they broke up for good because of my stupidity. I was a home wrecker.

“Well wait, aren’t you driving back this way?”

“Ummm, I’m not sure the car’s going to make it that far,” I admitted, anticipating his tirade.

“Wait… what? That’s a brand new Jag—of course it can make it back.”

“Ummm, it
was
a brand new Jag. Angelisa kind of hit an elk… a yak… some giant furry thing in Colorado,” I confessed, feeling much better. Six hours on the phone with someone and holding back that secret was tough. “Don’t worry, the animal was unharmed—the car—not so much.”

“You guys are unbelievable!” Jake groaned. After quite a few seconds of silence, he finally chuckled and added, “That car’s had more fun in three months than I’ve had in four years.”

“I used to be in the same boat—until I took this trip,” I admitted. “You should try it sometime—just pack up and—”

“Christine, are you up there?” Ang’s voice cut in, calling from the bottom of the stairs.

Whispering, “Yeah, listen, I gotta go, Ang just came home.”

“Is she okay?” he asked.

I peeked my head over the balcony. “She looks fine—a little too fine if you ask me,” I growled into the phone.

“Go easy on her, killer,” Jake joked, “Actually, she stole and wrecked my car. Let her have it.”

“Bye, Jake,” I whispered, disconnecting the call.

Staring at Angelisa, every drop of my blood boiled. I thought I knew her. I thought we were one in the same—with the same moral compass and values. Jesus, I couldn’t have been more wrong. She ripped my heart out, doing what she did last night.

“Well, look who decided to come home at the ass-crack of dawn!” I said, meeting her at the top of the steps.

Smiling and downright giddy, she sang, “Oh Christine, I’ve got to tell you so much. I had the most incredible night… and Greg, oh my God, there’s never been a—”

“Are you kidding me right now? Do you think I want to hear any of this?” I yelled. “You do remember why I’m on this fucking trip in the first place, don’t you?” I couldn’t believe she was expecting to tell me all the dirty details of her night with some guy. Not only did I
not
want to hear them, I wanted to knock every memory of
Greg
right out of her head—and her teeth too.

“Of course I know why we’re here, which is why I have to tell you what happened.”

“Oh I know what happened, you—
you
are what happened. You started to feel undesirable, unworthy, un-fucking-whatever, so you got your kicks from some guy in a bar… and did that work for you, Ang? Do you now feel desirable and worthy… while your husband takes care of your kids in Michigan and sends you nightly pictures of Goddamn water glasses?” I bellowed.

Silence.

Then, a soul-piercing, heart-ripping glare met mine.

“How dare you—”

“No! You are nothing better than that skank who fucked my husband. You’re a cheating, lying whore, and I can’t believe I was ever friends with you,” I screamed, walking away.

Angelisa grabbed my arm, turned me around, and pulled me close to her, “Don’t you ever—ever—talk to me like that again. You don’t know me. You don’t know what kind of person I am, and you certainly can never call me ‘your friend’ again,” she spat. “And, maybe your husband would’ve stuck around if you stopped feeling sorry for yourself for one Goddamn second and worried more about some of the good shit in your life.”

“Is that a joke? That is exactly what you do! You search for the bad, expect the worst, and whine every single second about it,” I countered. “It’s no wonder Matt high-tailed it to Michigan. If I were him I’d keep going and never look back.”

“You bitch! You sorry excuse for a human being,” she said, shaking her head at me. “I hope your girls like their new, hot, young Mommy, because anything’s gotta be better than you.”

Oh hell no
.

Hell no.

I sprang over the pile of luggage we left in the middle of the room and clenched my fists in mid-air. It took Angelisa a split second to realize she was about to get her ass handed to her. She screeched out a hoarse yelp just as my knuckles slammed against the side of her face. She flew back from the hit and stumbled over the bed, gasping for breath. “What the hell?” she coughed out, doubling over and collapsing to the floor.

“Get up!” I screamed as I arched my arm for another strike.

Angelisa blocked the punch and launched up, shoving both her hands into my chest. Heat spread out across my ribs, and I staggered back thumping hard against the wall.

With a loud roar, I pounced on her, clawing and yanking handfuls of hair out of her scalp. She grabbed something to the left of my head. Pain sliced through my jaw, vibrating my teeth as the metal of the bedside lamp smashed into my eye socket.

I ripped at her shirt, grasping for skin, raking my nails into flesh. A stabbing explosion tore through my gut as we struggled and fell through the balcony doors and hurtled over the railing. Both of us flailing in horror. Trying to desperately take hold of things that we just couldn’t reach.

I blinked back the violent images, shaking my head, slightly.

“Oh my God,” Angelisa screamed at me and pointed at my face. “You are completely zoning out and imaging that you’re killing me right now!”

“I hate you,” I whispered, turning my back on her and walking toward the door. “I hate this trip. And I hate this friendship. And I hate the fact that you’re no better than Scott.”

Angelisa was right.

I was right.

We were both right.

Ang and I have spent this whole time pretending to be people we weren’t—ignoring what was really going on in our lives. I was supposed to find myself on this trip, and the only thing I discovered was that I am a cranky, old, middle-aged woman, who blamed everyone else for her problems.

Scott cheated and that made him an asshole, but if I had to be honest, I really wasn’t giving him reason to stick around anyway. Truthfully, I fell out of love with him a long time ago—and I never tried to get it back. Falling in love is so easy; it’s the staying in love that’s hard. I never really felt like he and I were worth the fight. We weren’t. The only things that kept us together were our vows and our kids.

Our girls are strong, resilient, and independent; they’re going to be fine with the divorce. I’m going to be fine with the divorce, because one thing I’ve learned on this trip is that I can be alone. I can survive without him. I don’t need a man to make me happy and keep me going. If I want to live my life and have some fun, then I can do it any time I want. I just need the courage to take life by the balls and go after it. If I’ve proven anything to myself this summer, it’s that I have some pretty damn big balls.

As for Angelisa, I had no right.

Angelisa’s marriage wasn’t my marriage. Nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors—or doesn’t go on. Who was I to judge her for her actions? Isn’t a friend supposed to stick by you no matter what—even if you were screwing up your life? I felt awful for the things I spewed at her. And knowing her, she was probably mortified about the things she said to me. I needed to find her and make amends, apologize, and make her realize that she really is the best friend I’d ever had.

I walked along the streets in New Mexico, hoping that I’d see the Jag somewhere. It really was a hard car to miss—now that the front end was dented in. Seeing a second-hand bookstore, I knew she’d be inside, sniffing the books. The girl could smell books for hours.

I saw her immediately. When she looked up, her whole face tightened, and she shook her head. I approached her slowly. Angelisa looked pure evil. “Ang, we need to talk—”

“$1.50—these assholes are selling my book for $1.50,” she growled. “Is this a joke? Dre Donley is worth way more than a buck-fucking-fifty.” She slammed the book down, and walked to another aisle. “Look, Shane and Grace, $1.25! This is pure bullshit!”

Watching her grab all of our books and put them in her basket, I lost it. I’m not sure what was coming out of me, but it was a therapeutic cross between tears, laughter, joy, and total desolation. This was friendship. Friendship at its finest. Two women could lose their shit with each other, lay it all on the line, and then make up and forget it—all over a pile of second-hand, way underpriced books.

“Ya know, I’m sorry about everything I said,” I called after her.

“I know you are. I am too,” she said, smiling. “Let’s just chalk it up to PMS.”

“That’s all you, babe. I had a hysterectomy!” I bragged.

“Lucky bitch,” she grumbled, shaking her head, as I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You always get to one-up me.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that they’re selling your book for a quarter more than mine,” I teased. “You won that one.”

“You caught that?” she asked. I nodded. Laughing, she showed me the book. “They’re not. Yours is $3.00—a lot more than mine. I lied.”

I shook my head as we walked out the door into the dry summer heat. Inhaling a deep breath, I let go of everything I couldn’t control in my life. I had no idea what happened on her night in New Mexico, but for her, I hoped it was worth it.

Twitter: When you get a free room, take it and run—steal all you can. #SwipeStockPhotos #PigsOnTheRun #MissingMoustache

Trust her? I do not—not yet, anyway.

Forgive her? Nope. Not yet anyway.

Love her and thank God she’s my best friend? Yep, definitely.

But truthfully, Christine had no right—not even in the slightest—to go off on me like that. The way she judged me was 100% unacceptable. Friends do not do that to each other. Friends are there through thick and thin, the good, the bad, the horrifying, and especially the bliss. A best friend is basically a spouse you don’t have sex with. A spouse who doesn’t complain about how much money you spend or how much weight you’ve gained. A friend is someone who gorges herself on con queso with you, meeting you chip for chip, and then laments with you over just how stuffed you both are after the six pounds of cheese and five baskets of chips have been consumed.

Or… counts calories with you and exercises with you until you are both panting for forgiveness in case you might really be knocking on Heaven’s door as you chew on the pieces of your heart that are quite possibly coming up through your esophagus.

That’s friendship.

Somewhere along the line, she lost sight of that—probably somewhere in Colorado when she absurdly missed the fact she was driving to New
fucking
Mexico instead of Nevada. Dumbass. And I’m the bad driver?

Anyway, we got lost and ended up in New Mexico. And in that dingy hot, dry state, Christine and I lost something—a piece of our friendship that hopefully can be restored, I prayed. However, we may have gotten lost, and lost some trust in each other, but one thing is very damn certain. I found something in New Mexico, the most wonderful state in the country. New Mexico, the state of new beginnings and beauty, the state of renewal and—