Page 4

Part 2

“Sail On”

April

“Why are you so out of breath?” Abby asks as I close the door to her red Mini Cooper. “I mean, I get that you ran out from the shop, but it’s like three feet away.”

I take a moment to collect myself, which isn’t that easy considering I just made a complete fool out of myself, sprinted back to the coffee shop, grabbed my things and my cat, and practically threw them into her waiting car. My heart is still racing, but I breathe deeply and by the time we make it to the second stoplight, I’m feeling better. “I ran a little farther than that,” I say, but Abby continues as if I haven’t answered her.

“And whose phone was that you called me from? Did you lose your phone or something? Drop it in a puddle? Did Suz keep it as collateral so she could get half her money back?” Abby is nothing if not inquisitive.

“If you’d let me answer just one of your questions…” I sigh, then proceed to explain to her how I ended up calling her. Her eyebrows go up when I mention asking a random guy on the street to borrow his phone, but I plow through. That’s a story to tell over a pint of ice cream. Come to think of it, I have many such stories for tonight.

Abby turns into the parking garage of her apartment building and parks in her assigned space. “Alright, let’s get you gals inside and dried off!”

We get my stuff out of the backseat, and I grab Shelley, who was fine, but is now starting to freak out again. She’s the only cat I’ve ever known to be calmed by riding in the car. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re almost to Aunt Abby’s,” I say as we get on the elevator. Shelley ignores me and continues having her hissy fit.

When we reach the third floor, I follow Abby down the hall to her apartment. I’ve been here so many times before, but never thought I’d be living here. Of course, I never thought I’d kiss some random man on the street in the rain either, so I guess it’s a day for firsts.

“Here we are, ladies. Home, sweet home,” Abby sing-songs. “I’ve got the litter box all set up in the bathroom.”

“Thanks, Abby,” I say, putting down the carrier. I open the door, and Shelley flies out like she’s been holed up in there for days. “Yeah, we won’t see her for a while.”

I put the tiny ice packs the radiologist gave me in the freezer for later, and we take the rest of my things to my new room, Abby’s guestroom. It’s a lovely room with a queen-sized bed and a small walk-in closet. The attached bath is small, especially with the litter box in the corner, but it’s more high-end than my old place. I feel a pang of loneliness when I think of not being with Suz anymore. I turn around and walk back into the bedroom. I look up over the bed and see a framed poster of Monet’s The Walk, Woman with a Parasol. It is one of my favorite paintings and I can’t believe Abby remembered. Her idea of art is more along the lines of cells from animated films. “Abby,” I call.

“Yeah?” she says, coming back to my room holding a dish towel. “What’s up?”

I point to the poster. “Did you get that for me?”

“I thought you needed a little something of you in this room, so you’d feel at home,” she shrugs. “Hooray for same-day delivery! Is that the right one? I remembered there was a woman in it, but…”

“Yes,” I squeak, fighting back tears, “it’s the right one.” I pull her into a hug, trying desperately not to cry all over her.

“Aww, Clare. Today’s been a rough one, hasn’t it?” Abby asks, gently rubbing my back. “Just cry it out.”

I sob into her shoulder, relishing the warmth of a good friend’s embrace. Eventually, I pull back, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I think I needed that.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“It’s so hard, you know? One day, you’re minding your own business, getting your annual mammogram like you’re supposed to, then blam ! Cancer.” I shake my head. “I haven’t had any symptoms. I couldn’t even feel this ‘chunky’ lymph node the radiologist found on the ultrasound, but what do you know, it’s malignant.”

Abby pats me on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

I shrug. “I don’t really know what to think right now because they still have more tests to run to figure out where it’s coming from, but it’s scary as hell.” Tears well up again and my next words come out choked. “I could die.”

“You’re not going to die,” Abby says immediately, shaking her head emphatically with tears running down her own cheeks. “Nope. It’s not going to happen.”

“But I really could.”

My words hang heavy in the air for what feels like hours but is probably only a few seconds. I hope in my heart this is not the most likely scenario, but when anyone hears the word cancer, the word death is not too far behind. I also cannot spend this evening dwelling on that, or we’ll be crying all night long. Plus, my heart is beginning to pound in my ears.

“Okay, I think I need to not talk about this any more today. There’s nothing I can do about it until I see my doctor tomorrow and get more tests done, so let’s try to do something else to take my mind off of it. I really don’t want to work myself up into another panic attack like I had yesterday when I got the call.” I’ve had panic attacks ever since my parents passed away, and it took my coworker Nate quite a while to calm me down yesterday. I’d rather not go through that again tonight.

“Good idea, because we should celebrate!” she announces.

“Celebrate what?” I ask. You really never know with Abby. One night it could be the celebration of her boss giving her a raise and the next a celebration of her favorite show being renewed for a fifth season. To her, almost anything is a celebration. Maybe she wants to celebrate that we’re roommates again after all these years.

She looks at me as if I’m totally dense. “Celebrate you finally getting out of that relationship with Suz that was going absolutely nowhere. You’re finally free!”

So, not exactly what I thought she was going to say. “Um…I don’t actually feel like celebrating tonight,” I mutter.

She nods. “I get that with the news you got you probably don’t feel like celebrating much, but you finally got up the courage to get out of that dead-end relationship and we should celebrate it. Wanna go out somewhere and pick up some cute guys…or girls?”

I shake my head, thinking briefly of the guy I did almost “pick up” tonight. Just wait till Abby hears about that one. Then I’ll have two celebrations to deal with.

“C’mon. We have to do something. I can’t let you just sit in here all night organizing all your clothes in the closet or wallowing about the biopsy,” she whines, then puts a hand up. “Not that you don’t deserve all the wallowing in the world about your test results, but I still think we should do something fun tonight. What do you want to do?”

I think for a moment. The only thing I really want to do right now is lay on my bed and cry, but I won’t let myself do that. Not to mention the fact that Abby’s not going to take no for an answer. So, I come up with the only solution I think we can both agree to.

* * *

After a quick trip to the store for emotional support ice cream, we’re sitting in our pajamas on the sofa eating pints of Ben & Jerry’s with giant spoons. Abby got her usual Coffee Caramel Buzz, and I got Chocolate Therapy, which seems very appropriate for the occasion. Each spoonful is filled with all the chocolaty goodness one person can possibly stand, and it’s working miracles on my mood.

“Alright, Clare. Out with it,” Abby says over a mouthful of coffee ice cream. She’s wearing her favorite Winnie the Pooh pajamas and has her long brown hair pulled up into a loose ponytail. She’s one of those classically beautiful women, whereas I’m more grow-on-you beautiful with my short coppery hair and freckles. I’m just your typical Irish-American stereotype.

I swallow. “Out with what?”

“Out with whatever it is you’re feeling that required this ice cream social.” She knows me too well. Yes, it’s a cliché that girls eat ice cream when they’re upset about something, but Abby knows I only go for the hard stuff—and by that, I mean the chocolate, chocolate, chocolate stuff—when something really big is bothering me. If it’s just a little mild sadness over a bad week at work or a spat with Suz, I’d get something a little more normal like Peanut Butter Cup. But, if it’s full-on depression or biting-my-nails kind of worry, it’s chocolate overload all the way. “Is it just the biopsy results or is there something else?” she asks.

Biding my time, I take another big spoonful and let the flavor melt away my anxiety over telling her. “Mostly, but there’s…something else.”

She tucks her legs underneath her and faces me, her eyes asking all the questions I know are swirling around in that head of hers. When I don’t continue immediately, she starts peppering me with “whats.”

I take a deep breath and begin to recount for her the entire evening. The mad rush to pack and leave Suz’s, her lack of concern over me leaving, her abundance of concern over the rent, the pouring rain and the coffee shop.

“What a jerk,” she says. “She didn’t know what she had when she had you. I’ll bet she comes crawling back once she realizes she’s not just missing your rent check.”

“Thanks,” I reply. I seriously doubt that will happen, but it certainly would make me feel better if it did. Not that it will make me change my mind. Well, not really.

“So, then you called me from that guy’s phone, and I picked you up. What else is there to be upset about?” she asks, then quickly adds, “Not that that isn’t plenty to be upset about. But you said it was more than just Suz and the biopsy, right?”

“Yeah. Something happened after I called you.” My pause is evidently a little too long here and Abby tries to get another question in, but I raise my hand to stop her. “Please, just let me get this out without interruption. Okay?” She nods.

“After I called you, the guy offered to walk me to the coffee place so I wouldn’t get more wet. He had one of those big golf umbrellas. Did I mention that already?” I’m stalling, I know I am. I’m just not sure how to tell my best friend that I did something so impulsive and crazy as to kiss some random guy on the street. I am so not that girl. Abby is that girl, but I am as far from that as Earth is from the Sun.

Okay, Clare. Just rip off the Band-Aid. “You remember those dreams I have sometimes?” I ask, then gesture that it’s okay for her to reply.

“The ones where a faceless person does all sorts of romantic things for you?”

“Yeah. Well, when I got into the coffee house, I had this extreme sense of déjà vu. You know, like I’d seen that guy before. But it didn’t seem like I’d seen him just anywhere—”

“You mean, like you’d seen him in your dreams?” As soon as the question was out, Abby clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Something like that. I…I’m not sure if I even fully registered what I was feeling at the time. I just felt this overwhelming sense of someone or something pushing me toward him.” I trail off and take another bite of my ice cream. Abby looks at me expectantly, hands still over her mouth. A gentle shake of my head tells her I’m not done. Her eyes get even wider.

“Without much thought, I left all my stuff in the coffee house and ran after him. And, when I caught up to him, I…” Her eyes impel me to continue. “I kissed him.” The words are barely audible, even to my own ears.

“YOU WHAT?!” Abby shouts.

“I kissed him,” I repeat, louder.

“You…you…kissed him? You kissed him? You, Clare O’Donnell, kissed a guy you’ve never met before, on the street, in the rain? On the day you broke up with your long-time, live-in girlfriend?”

“Yes.” It’s all I can think to say.

Abby lies back on the sofa, draping her arm across her face. I’m barely able to rescue her spoon, full of ice cream, from falling to the floor. After a moment, she peeks at me from under her arm. “You really kissed him?”

“Yep.”

“On the lips?”

“On the lips.”

Her breath gushes out of her as if she’d been holding it this whole time. “Wow.”

“I know.”

“I just can’t believe it. You are like the least impulsive person I know. I mean, it took you how many years to break up with Suz?”

I cringe at the sound of her name. “I know. I can’t believe I did it either.”

“So, how was it?” she asks, sitting up again, eager for the juicy details.

“I…uh…well,” I stammer, but something on my face must tell her exactly what she wants to know.

“That good, huh?”

I know I’m blushing fifteen shades of red, and I look down at the couch as if the sage green fabric just caught my attention.

“Did he kiss you back?” she probes.

“I think so?” It comes out as a question, but really, I know the answer. Yes. He most definitely kissed me back. It was, in fact, the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life. The best kiss I’ve ever dreamed of having in my life. I felt that kiss down to my toes. But I can’t tell Abby this detail because she’ll blow this even more out of proportion than she’s already doing.

“So, what happened next?”

“I ran.”

“You ran?”

“All the way back to the coffee house, where you were just pulling up. That’s why I was out of breath when I got in the car.”

Recognition dawns on her face. “But you left without getting his name? Without seeing if he liked the kiss too?”

“Abby, I was just so embarrassed. Once the kiss was over, I could not get away from there fast enough. I’ve never done anything like that in my life.” And it’s true. I never do anything without looking at every single scenario at least ten times. I’ve made mistakes, mind you, but at least I know I’ve thought about them a lot before I decide to commit them. “I’m sure he thinks I’m some love-starved fool who was just really happy he let her use his phone.”

Abby looks over at the coffee table, contemplating, then looks back at me with mischief in her eyes. “You know, I have his number in my phone.”

“Um…no,” I reply, matter-of-factly.

“But you have to. You can’t just leave it like this.”

I get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen to wash my spoon and put the rest of my ice cream in the freezer. “I most certainly can and will leave it like this. Do you have any idea how mortifying that was? And, by extension, how mortifying it would be to see him again?”

“I can only imagine,” she says, then holds up her hand to keep me from interrupting her. “But what if he is literally the man of your dreams? Can you really let this chance go by? After all you’ve been through with your parents and Suz and…”—she gestures widely—“…everything. You so deserve to be happy.”

At the mention of my parents, I feel the burn of tears in my eyes, but I will them not to fall. “I just…can’t,” I whisper.

Without another word, Abby comes to the kitchen and embraces me, rubbing my back. When she releases me, she puts her hands up in surrender. “Okay. I won’t push. I just think you might be missing the opportunity of a—” Her phone starts vibrating across the coffee table. “Probably another telemarketer. I’ll be right back.”

She grabs her phone and glances down at the number. “Um…Clare?” She looks up at me. “Remember that missed opportunity? It’s calling.”

I immediately run toward her in a vain attempt to dismiss the call before she can answer it. But I’m too late.

“Hello?” she says, grinning at me like the Cheshire Cat. “Yep. Uh huh. I’m Abby and her name is Clare.”

“Say I’m not here,” I mouth, waving my hands like I’m landing a plane.

But, of course, Abby says, “Yeah, she’s right here. Hang on.” So much for not pushing me.

She thrusts the phone at me, still grinning like a fool, and I take it with my hand that has suddenly gotten very sweaty. “Hello?” I croak. My knees buckle and I’m grateful to have been standing right in front of a chair.

“So, what was all that about back there?” he asks with no introduction.

“I…uh…well…I…” I stammer.

“Well, that’s just not going to cut it now, is it?” he says, not unkindly. In fact, I can almost hear him smiling on the other end of the line. “You see, I can’t just ignore that I was kissed in the middle of the street by a complete stranger.”

His voice reminds me so much of the one I heard in the dream the other night that I try to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. Abby whispers for me to put him on speakerphone, but I shake my head. Slightly annoyed, she sits down on the arm of the chair and puts her ear next to the phone. As if I wasn’t overheated enough.

“Clare? Are you still there?” he asks.

“Yeah. Still here,” I manage.

“Why don’t we meet at the coffee shop tomorrow around four?” Sensing my hesitation, he adds, “It’ll give you a chance to explain yourself.”

I nod my head, then when Abby pokes me, I realize he can’t see that through the phone. “Okay,” I answer.

“Ask his name,” Abby stage whispers in my ear.

Before I get the chance to ask, he says, “Tell your friend my name’s Roddy Vaughn.”

* * *

Before I’ve even thought about where I’m going to put all my stuff in Abby’s guestroom, she starts riffling through my clothes trying to pick out the perfect outfit for my meeting with Roddy. I flatly refuse to call it a date since I don’t even know the guy and he’s probably just meeting up with me to find out just how crazy I am so he can share a good laugh with his friends later. Abby, on the other hand, is in full-on Date Preparation Mode. You’d think I was going out on a date with Chris Evans or Scarlett Johansson the way she’s going on about it.

“Clare?” she calls from the bedroom. “Would you like to explain to me why I just found this in your suitcase?”

I come out from the bathroom, where I was trying to unpack my toiletries, to see Abby holding up a Star Trek t-shirt. More specifically, a purple shirt with the words “Make Trek Not Wars” emblazoned across the chest in both Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Wars lettering. The fact that I know this shames me to my core. “Um…I don’t know how that got in there. I must have grabbed one of Suz’s shirts by mistake.”

Abby gives me a knowing look, and I think she’s going to let me off the hook. Then she holds the shirt up against herself and says, “Suz hates purple, if I remember correctly. Want to try again?”

“Alright,” I sigh heavily before continuing. “Suz gave it to me for my birthday last year. I’ve only worn it once and it must have still been in the drawer with my other shirts. Happy?”

“I’m happy that you admitted it, and I’m happy that you didn’t buy it for yourself, but I’m not happy that it’s in my apartment. You need to purge all the Suz-ness out of your life for good,” she says, balling up the t-shirt and throwing it into the trash can. “I have no problem with people being nerdy. But you don’t even like Star Trek … Wars …whatever, so you shouldn’t pretend to just to make Suz happy. Especially now that you’re not together anymore.”

She’s right. Throughout the entirety of my relationship with Suz, I pretended to like the things that she liked in order for us to get closer to one another. I watched her shows, I read her books, I tried playing her video games. I even went to an Anime convention with her—just one, mind you. Not only did it not work to bring us closer together, it backfired in that she thought I really liked all those things. I pray Abby doesn’t find the Doctor Who socks in the bottom of that suitcase. They’re actually my favorite socks, and I couldn’t bear it if she threw them out. And, I genuinely like Doctor Who …the new ones, at least.

“I know. But seeing as I just broke up with her today and you’re so proud of me for doing that, could you just let me throw them out when I’m ready to?” I plead. It’s been a hard enough day without having to go through all my stuff and rid it of anything that reminds me of her.

“Sure,” she says, coming to give me a hug. “I’m sorry I threw out your Trek shirt. Shall I fish it out of the trash?”

I laugh a little. “Well, we could at least donate it somewhere. It’s a nice shirt.”

“Goodwill for Nerds?” she asks.

“Something like that,” I say. I pull the shirt out of the trash can and start a pile of items to donate, knowing full well that the pile will be huge by the time I’m done going through my things.

Abby walks back over to the suitcase and starts sorting through my clothes. “Now, let’s find something for you to wear on your date.”

I roll my eyes and just go with it.

* * *

An hour later, the doorbell rings and Abby goes to answer it. I hear a flurry of male voices, coupled with Abby’s, and though I can’t hear them clearly through my closed door, I suspect it’s our friends Isaac and Nate. I’ve known Isaac since high school when we were in sophomore English class together. We worked on a group project where we had to do a modern retelling of a legend or fairy tale, and I decided we should do a puppet show about Robin Hood. Isaac loved the idea and the two of us carried the group to an A, even though our group mates were completely useless.

I met Nate when I was working at a boring office job about ten years ago. We talked a little over the years, but really hit it off about six years ago when he came back from vacation to Salzburg—somewhere I’d always wanted to go because of my love for The Sound of Music —and we got to talking about all the places we’d love to visit. We started having lunch together, talking about anything and everything. Then, we would hang out on the weekends to go to the movies. He came out to me one such weekend, and I was so proud of him and happy that he felt he could be his authentic self around me.

Eventually, Nate decided to leave the office job to start his own travel agency. Once it got going, he asked if I wanted to join his company. I didn’t think twice. I turned in my two weeks’ notice and started working with him thereafter. I’ve never looked back because being a travel agent is the most rewarding and wonderful job I could have ever imagined. Plus, I get to work with one of my best friends every single day and dream about travel, even if I never actually go anywhere myself.

Now, I walk to the doorway of my bedroom and hear a bit of their conversation.

“…wanted to check to see how she was doing,” Nate says.

“She’s doing okay,” Abby replies, sotto voce. “She didn’t really want to talk much about the results.”

“We won’t even bring it up,” Isaac says, putting his finger to his lips. “Is she here, though? We have some exciting news to share that might cheer her up.”

“Clare? Nate and Isaac are here,” Abby calls. “They have exciting news!”

I head to the living room and see my friends standing next to Abby. Nate’s very tall and lanky—though not quite as tall as Roddy—with a full head of dark blond wavy hair. With golden skin, rugged features and one of those close-cropped beards that are all the rage, he’s very handsome. Isaac is a little shorter, but very muscular. He is bald by choice and his rich tawny complexion sets off his deep brown eyes. Abby has always said if she wasn’t a lesbian and they weren’t gay, she’d be all over them both. I have to admit, if they weren’t gay, I would be too.

“Hi, guys,” I say with a weird wave I couldn’t seem to hold back.

“Oh, Clare,” Isaac says, and runs toward me with his arms flung wide, tears in his eyes. He embraces me and I wrap my arms around him. The tears come even though I will them to stop. I feel Nate hug me from behind as well.

“Make room for me in there,” I hear Abby say as she comes over to join the hugging. Nate shifts to the left so she can come in from the right side to make a circle around me. I am completely enveloped by my friends’ warm arms, safe and secure.

“We are all here for you,” Nate encourages.

Isaac kisses my cheek and adds, “Yes. Anything you need, you just call. We love you, Clare.”

“I love you all too,” I say through my tears.

Isaac is the first to step back, then Abby, then Nate, and I see that we’ve all been crying.

“I’m going to see my doctor tomorrow morning, and we’ll see what happens from there. I know there are going to be more tests, so I know there will be a lot of opportunities for everyone to help me out.” Desperately wanting to change the subject, I wipe my eyes and ask, “So, what’s this news? I’d love to hear something happy.”

Nate gives Isaac a knowing glance, and Isaac shrugs. Abby sees this exchange as well and, never one to mince words, says, “Well, c’mon. One of you tell us.”

Isaac holds his hand out for Nate to spill the beans. Nate takes Isaac’s hand in his before he speaks. “We were going to wait until a slightly better time, when you aren’t dealing with quite so much, what with the biopsy and the—”

“Oh, we know, just get on with it,” Abby interrupts. “She wants happy news, not a rehashing of all the bad stuff.”

“I’m getting there,” Nate replies, abashed. Abby and Nate are good friends, really, but she gets really annoyed with his tendency to ramble and restate the obvious. Apparently, today, she’s had enough.

“Nate, I’m sorry. Please, continue,” Abby says.

“It’s okay. I’ll get to the good stuff.” Nate smiles. “Tonight—just an hour or so ago, in fact—I proposed to Isaac and he said, ‘yes’!”

“Oh my God! I’m so happy for you!” I squeal. Now that I think about it, Nate isn’t merely smiling, he’s positively glowing. How did I not notice this before? And Isaac is beaming back at Nate as well. The two of them are so cute together and absolutely made for each other.

“Congratulations!” Abby adds. “I knew you two would tie the knot eventually.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Nate replies. “We’re both really excited.”

“And, Clare, I wanted to ask you something,” Isaac starts, “would you be my Best Woman?”

Tears spring to my eyes again, but happy ones this time. “Absolutely!”

Nate turns to Abby. “And, Abby, would you be my Best Woman?”

“Really?” Abby asks, shocked. “You want me?”

“Of course I do,” Nate replies. “You two are our best friends in the world and we want both of you up there with us.”

Nate nudges Isaac, and they both look back at me again. “Clare, we had another favor to ask,” Isaac says, eyes gleaming. “Would you be willing to sing for the wedding?”

Nate jumps in before I can respond, “Your voice is so heavenly, and it would make our day truly special if you would grace us with a song.”

I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “I would be honored. Just please don’t make me sing ‘I Will Always Love You’ by Dolly or Whitney.” We all laugh.

“You got it,” Isaac replies. “You’ll have full artistic approval.”

“I think we need to do that group hug again,” I say. Everyone obliges and soon we’re hugging and laughing. In the back of my mind, however, is a fleeting thought that I hope I am around to sing at their wedding.