When Girlfriends Break Hearts (24 page)

I nodded in agreement, swallowing another bite of pancake. “That’s right.” I looked over at Jackie, who had her short, dainty legs pulled up into her chest as she pushed her pancake pieces around her plate. “It’s just what we do.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

When it rains, it pours.

That Sunday afternoon, after Claire and I helped Jackie clean up the apartment, I received a phone call from one of the ladies from
Studio Tulaa
. It was regarding Pamela. God had taken her earlier than any of us had anticipated.
 

I wasn’t sure how to react to the news. I didn’t know if I could actually believe it. Pamela? Gone? Funeral details already underway? I just sat on the edge of my desk chair, staring blankly at my business paperwork.
 

Should I cry? Get angry and throw something? Deny the truth? What was I supposed to do? What was anyone supposed to do in this situation? How could it be? She’d been told just a few weeks ago; she was meant to have weeks left. And now she was gone? How could Pamela not be here?

It was when I delivered the news to Claire a few minutes later that I finally cried the tears that had been building and building. Pamela was gone. I moaned into Claire’s shoulder as she gently rocked me. I told her that it wasn’t fair. That bad things shouldn’t happen to good people. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready to move on.

“No one’s ever ready, Sophie, honey,” Claire said. “There’s never any preparing for this, no matter how much warning we may get.”

Claire offered to go with me to the funeral, if it would help. For now I couldn’t even think of it. Pamela was supposed to have a garden party. Not a funeral. There was never a funeral to plan. It was always about a garden party.

“Maybe the garden party plans can be the funeral,” Claire suggested. “Maybe that’s what Pamela would want. Do you think?”

I didn’t know what I thought. Pamela wanted to celebrate life and maybe she had wanted to be at her own celebration of life…her own wake. She would expect that we would be in tears, but she would
want
us to celebrate her life, and celebrate our own. Because, as she had said to me that last afternoon I had seen her, “Life is so very precious, Sophie. Do not take it for granted.”

“Perhaps the garden party can be the wake.”

Claire’s idea was a good one. And probably one that had already run through the minds of Pamela’s family, if they could even think that far at the moment.

“That’s true,” I whimpered, wiping away my tears, but to no avail. “Pamela would want that. The funeral’s probably going to be on Sunday…in a week…. The garden party’s not scheduled for another two weeks or so, but we can change it all probably. We can give Pamela the garden party she dreamed of and honor her that way.” I nodded my head, assuring myself that these ideas were not bad at all.

“You knew this day would come sooner or later,” Claire said softly. “Not that that makes it any easier, but you knew this day would come.”

I wailed, knowing full well the truth in her statement. Pamela’s life, like everyone’s, was just a lease, and her time had come. Learning to accept her death and continue my life was going to be difficult, but it wouldn’t prove to be impossible. In forgiveness, and acceptance, I knew that I could find contentment and eventually peace.
 

I would help Pamela’s family in any way I could to plan the most spectacular garden party, funeral, and wake. It would be just what Pamela wanted. It would be the perfect way to honor her memory.

***

I’ll admit that trying to wrap my head around Monday morning work, and the catering plans for Pamela’s garden party that coming Sunday, and facing the fact that I was meeting Lara later tonight, was a bit too much to handle. For anyone, I’m sure. And on a Monday. But I guess when life doles out lemons, what can you expect?

As painfully difficult as it was to talk funeral arrangements with Pamela’s daughters, it had to be done. The garden party was bumped up to the twentieth to follow the funeral at the local church. The reality was almost too much to handle, but with everything careening together and with less than a week’s time on hand, there wasn’t much room to deny the difficult truth.
 

Actually, a very small, and I mean
very
small, part of me was looking forward to the garden party. It was going to be a true celebration of life. We would talk about the memory of Pamela and the beauty that she brought into the world. We were going to unveil the English garden she had dreamed of having. We would honor her memory. We would say, “We miss you, Pamela. You will always be with us.” And, “Here’s to you and your beautiful garden.”

With the funeral arrangements in order and the garden party plans underway, all I had to do for the remainder of the day was to…well…get through the day. Get through work one croissant at a time. One batch of white chocolate lollipops at a time. And then eventually it’d be time to pack up a small batch of some cherry chocolate cupcakes after a dinner out with Claire and head on over to Lara’s. As much as I was looking forward to talking things out, I was scared the day had finally come.

Where would we begin? Who would say something first? What would that something be? Would there be instant crying? Hugging? A feeling of distance? The best remedy to an approaching anxiety for these sorts of things is to push the questions out of the mind entirely and meet up with your best friend for an early dinner after work. So that’s precisely what I did. Once I got off of work, with a freshly baked batch of some leftover cupcakes that Oliver and I had made in tow, I met Claire for Italian.
 

We chatted, perhaps lingered a bit over dinner. Evidently Jackie had given Claire a call letting her know how much she appreciated our help out with her breakup.
 

“She told me to tell you she’s sorry she acted like a big baby,” Claire said.
 

Seeing how the craziness between myself and Lara and Robin had unfolded, there was little Jackie could do that could really ruffle my feathers. Besides, she was always doing something outlandish and immature. A few curse words, far too many drinks, and childish tantrums weren’t going to get my dander up in the least. I guess Jackie sort of got an easy street pass with me. With most all of us, actually. Even with Claire—unless she had a drink in her.
 

Jackie was…well…Jackie. We loved her just the same, but hated to see her path down destruction. Holding a pathetic grudge against her for acting childishly would have been just as bad as scorning her and leaving her to her own ruinous path. We had to be there, as her friends, to help her up when she fell, to hold her hand when she couldn’t see the disaster dead ahead, and to hug her when she hurt.
 

Claire said that Jackie’s attitude toward the breakup was “
très normal.
” She’d probably be on the market again for yet another “winner” in a matter of a week or two. All’s fair in love and war, apparently.

I shared with Claire the latest in regards to the upcoming garden party arrangements. Planning such a thing wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as difficult as I had anticipated. Knowing beforehand that Pamela’s lease on life was short didn’t ease the pain of loss, but I had taken the news much better than I thought. Was I prepared? No. There’s really never any amount or form of preparation one can take for these things. You’re never prepared for death. But maybe I was handling the news better than I had imagined because there were so many things on my plate as it were. Or maybe because planning the wake…the party…was one step nearer to closure. It was one step closer to being able to wish Pamela my love and say goodbye.
 

Claire had offered again to join me at the funeral if it would help, but I knew that this was something I needed to do on my own. I needed to go without that friendly hand to hold. I needed to pick up the pieces and try this one on my own. Though “on my own” was really a loose term as I knew Claire’s hand would always be there—even if I found that I needed it midway through the day of the funeral or, as I expected, immediately afterward. The reassurance that I had Claire there for me—a true and kind friend—was going to be reassurance enough for me to brave the funeral and attend Pamela’s wake on my own. Just like I was going to kiss Claire goodbye and thank her for the treat of dinner, and head off to Lara’s…on my own.

Chapter Twenty-Three

There was some kind of a mid-term study break get-together going on in the commons area of the all-female dorm I lived in my first year in college. As enticing as free cookies and milk were, and as much of a mid-term study break as I could have used at the time, I wasn’t the least bit interested in doing anything other than rushing over to Lara’s apartment across campus. Lara was the best and most personable camp counselor I could have asked for during freshman orientation earlier that school year, and she was just the right person—the right friend—I wanted to see regarding getting over a horrible breakup.

My long-term high school boyfriend had just called me up to tell me that he had met someone else back at home in Santa Barbara, and that it was time we finally called it quits. I was appalled. As much as I knew in the back of my mind that a long-distance relationship initiated in high school was not realistic to maintain, the breakup still hurt and enraged me. No girl ever fancies being dumped.
 

I probably would have first dished the dirty news to Claire, then my roommate, but she was still in her
Intro. to Psychology
class and I couldn’t wait. And Lara, who’d had her fair share of life experiences, being older, was just the person to turn to.

I raced across campus without skipping a beat. Lara’s door was always open and for nearly two hours she let me ramble on and on about how hurt I was and how unfair my just-then-ex had treated me. She rationalized with me, comforted me, and reassured me that I was already treading in cleaner waters. “College boys here can be a lot of fun,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
 

Talking with Lara made me feel so at ease, like moving on would be easy.
 

Setting that relationship aside was one of the best things I could have done, or could have had happen to me, just like Lara said. I was ready for a new start and sophomore year was going to be a no-strings-attached kind of start. I’d have the summer to heal and get over any leftover feelings or resentment or fondness that always linger with any relationship, and I’d come back for the next school term with a fresh face, ready for whatever. Thank God I had Lara to help me get there.

***

I wished I felt that same way as I approached Lara’s front door now. I actually wished for that same situation, running to Lara for consolation over a broken heart, rather than the one I was currently faced with. Hell, I’d take a repeat of the breakup with Brandon over what I was about to do. Running to Lara for consolation would definitely be easier than running to her for forgiveness, for making up, for setting right the wrong.

When I finally knocked on her door a tiny portion of my fear and pent up anxiety started to dissolve. Maybe the hardest part was already behind me. Actually, there was probably something in that idea. Initially contacting Lara had to be the hardest move, by far. Everything else here on out would be a cake walk, right?
 

Seeing Lara made even more fear dissolve and as the seconds…the minutes…passed as we talked and started to set out saucers and cups for our coffee and cupcakes, I started to feel yet more anxiety trickle away. She was warm and receptive. Her face didn’t scream dread; nor was she ready to pull the big emotional stopper and let the tears come running. Lara looked just as she did when things were perfectly normal and right between us. God, that seemed like ages ago. But there she was—as if there wasn’t any bad blood between us. Almost, just
almost
, as if nothing had ever happened.

I stress
almost
because naturally the elephant in the room finally appeared. I peeled away the paper from my cupcake and licked the gooey chocolate residue from my fingers, and after I made a random comment about how amazing chocolate tastes, Lara said, “I’m really glad you wanted to talk.” She took a sip of her black coffee. “I’m really,
really
glad you wanted to see me. I’ve missed you a lot. And it’s been really horrible having this big wedge between us.”

“I know, right?” I said lightly. “I’ve been kind of a bitch about it.” A little self-reproach.

“Yeah,” she said. “I haven’t exactly been the best friend you could ask for. Let’s face it, this whole thing’s really turned into a big bitch fest.”

She chuckled and I reciprocated, adding, “Yeah, a
big
misunderstanding.”

“I’m sorry, Sophie. I’m really sorry for keeping it from you. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better friend.”

“Your hands were kind of tied. I can understand where you were coming from. I’ve run through the scenario a million times in my head and I’m pretty sure that if she came to me with something like that I would respect her wishes, too. I can’t imagine how awful a situation that must have been—”

“Horrible,” she said quickly. “
Ab-so-lute-ly
horrible.”
 

She looked down at her plate. “It ate me up night after night. I thought the truth would never come out and there were a few times I came pretty close to coming clean. I told Robin to tell you over and over again.”
 

She glanced up as if gauging my reaction to Robin’s name. I don’t think my facial expression changed. My feelings had shifted. I no longer cringed when I heard her name, nor was I trying to deny the fact that anything had ever happened. I was nearly ready to talk with Robin about everything. There was no need for anyone to walk on egg shells around me anymore.

“Well, it all came out eventually,” I said.
 

“I wish none of it had ever happened.”