Bent not Broken (308 page)

I put my arm around Finn’s shoulder and give him a squeeze. “No occasion. I just felt like making them.”

“You usually make us beg cause they’re bad for us. And they make Finn act like he’s on crack,” Archer jokes.

“You boys are full of jokes this morning.” I squeeze Finn a little more. “Hey you, you’re quiet. What’s up?”

“Nothin’”

I give him a final squeeze. “Go put a shirt on for breakfast, sweetheart. It’s almost ready.”

“I don’t wanna.” He hesitates and then mutters, “I’m too sexy for my shirt.”

“Huh?”

He lifts his head and I see mischief dancing in there. “I’m too sexy for my shirt,” he starts singing and moving around the bar, “So sexy it hurts.”

“Oh, yes,” I say with a laugh, “there’s my Finn. I knew the quiet was too good to be true.”

“You’d be bored if I was quiet,” he says as he runs out of the room to get his shirt, singing Right Said Fred at the top of his lungs.

“Wow!” I clap my hands and roll my eyes. “OK, boys, eat up. Louis will be here to get you soon. We’ve gotta get you packed for the weekend.”

“Are you coming up?”

“Umm...I may. I’m not sure yet. If I do, it’ll be Sunday afternoon.” I’m not jumping to spend time at the compound. And I didn’t know if Adrian would be there. “Who wants to do the powdered sugar first?”

“Meeeee!!!!” I hear Finn all the way from the back of the house. I drop my voice to a whisper. “Geez...that boy has excellent hearing.”

“I heard that,” he shouts again.

****

AFTER I GET the boys packed and off with Louis, who barely gave me an acknowledging nod, I get cleaned up and spend the day taking care of various errands. Tonight is girls’ night and I’m thrilled. While I’m out, I pick up everything to make cosmos. I’m in dire need of a little distraction. Getting home late, I run around the house throwing all my distractions in a tote—Scrabble, chick flicks, my recent photo shoot proofs. Running into my bedroom, I change into my comfy yoga pants and favorite threadbare Saints t-shirt. I’m planning to have a nice buzz, so I trade my contacts for glasses, throw my hair in a high ponytail, and slip on my flip-flops.

Dashing out the door, I decide to walk the four blocks to Bonnie’s. If I’m too inebriated to walk home, I’ll just call a cab. As I pass the block that Adrian’s apartment is on, my steps falter and I slow, glancing down his street to see if I can catch a glimpse of him. Willing myself to keep walking, I imagine what he’s been up to these last three weeks. It’s pure torture because, while I’ve been distracting myself with cooking and the kids and work, I can picture the black-headed, brown eyed distraction he’s had wrapped around him.

I promised myself I would stop these musings, but it’s so difficult. Feeling like a lovesick teenager, I chastise myself for the millionth time. Steeling myself, I straighten and walk with purpose. As soon as I focus my gaze ahead instead of behind, I see him exiting a corner store with the little lookalike tucked into his side, and I feel myself fold in like a falling house of cards.

His arm is thrown around her casually, and she is looking up at him like he is the greatest thing since stilettos. He’s looking down at her and laughing a little at what she’s saying. They are picture perfect, and it’s just too easy to imagine myself there in the curve of his arm. I freeze and do just that for a moment. Snapping out of it after a few seconds, I panic. Frantically, I glance around, looking for a place to hide, and figure I probably have ten seconds before I’m spotted.

Just as I move to hide behind a rack of tie-dyed t-shirts, Adrian’s eyes fly up and zero in on me. I see him stiffen and watch his arm drop. I move to stand behind the rack and drop my head, pretending like these are the most interesting t-shirts I’ve ever seen. I pray that he just keeps moving along. I don’t want the awkward conversation, nor do I need any more fuel for my already flaming desires.

As he passes me, I can’t help but look over. His gaze looks like it’s never left mine and it’s full of hurt and questions. He looks...wounded. I send him an apology with my eyes, and we maintain eye contact until he rounds the building and starts down his street.

Releasing a shaky breath, I collapse against the wall and try to calm my erratic heart. He looked so good. He had a little growth of facial hair and his hair was a little longer than usual, but he looked so good. I close my eyes tight for a moment. My appreciation of his aesthetically pleasing nature doesn’t last long before my brain switches to jealous mode.

Is he serious about her? I mean, honestly, I thought he was using her as some sort of replacement for what he couldn’t have and that he’d be over her by now. And shouldn’t I be happy for him? It’s good that he has someone. Someone who obviously makes him happy. This should make me happy for him, not stung because it’s not me. It can never be me, the rational part of my brain insists. Logically, I know this. Breaking this to my emotions is another issue, though. They do protest.

Finally, I pull myself from the wall and start to head toward Bonnie’s again. The shopkeeper gives me a dirty look for spending so much time and not buying anything. I just shrug and hurry my steps along.

Raising my hand to let myself into Bonnie’s, I’m surprised when the door is wrenched open from the other side and a furious Garner almost barrels over me. “Whoa, Garner, are you OK?”

He runs his hand over the top of his mohawk and pins me with his bright green eyes. He puts his hands on his hips for a moment before beginning to gesticulate wildly. “Your friend is a lunatic. I can’t talk to her. She’s just...just crazy. What is wrong with her? I’m dying to know. I didn’t break her, yet I’m paying for whoever did. Is that fair? Is that right? Damn, I’ve been patient but this is ridiculous. It’s been months, Celeste, months. I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.”

I blink rapidly, trying to process all he’s just said. I’ve never heard him speak so much before and certainly nothing more than a few pleasantries and a few inappropriate comments about what he wanted to do to my best friend. Before I can formulate a response, he’s folding himself into his bright red Camaro and taking off.

Wondering what mess I’m about to walk in to, I gingerly enter the kitchen to find Bonnie calmly preparing snacks for tonight. “Hey, Bon. What’s up?”

“Just dumping all this store bought crap into serving dishes so that you’d think I made all this. I guess I wasn’t quick enough,” she says with a shrug. To anyone else, this would all seem and sound perfectly normal. Me, I can see the tightness around her eyes and hear the hurt in her tone.

“Bonnie, what happened with you and Garner?”

“Oh, the usual.” She waves an impatient hand through the air.

“And that would be?”

“You know...wants to introduce me as his ‘girlfriend,’ let everyone know I’m his, introduce me to his parents.” She sneers the word “parents” like it’s the most offensive word in the English language.

“What a jerk!” I exclaim sarcastically.

“I know, right? I keep reminding him we’re having fun, and he keeps trying to spoil it.”

About that time, I hear a timid knock and Farah calling out to us.

“We’re in here, Farah. Come on in!”

Farah rounds the corner taking in our expressions. “What’s wrong?”

“Men suck,” Bonnie explains.

“Ah...” is all Farah says because she is married to a gem of a man.

“Don’t start with me Farah. You married perfection,” Bonnie snaps, pointing a chicken salad-covered spoon at Farah.

“Hey, just because I married perfection, doesn’t mean I don’t know heartache. I know heartache,” Farah snaps back.

“OK! Whoa! Bonnie don’t snap at Farah because you don’t want to admit you have feelings for Garner. And Farah cut Bonnie a little slack. She’s in love with Garner and wants to have his little rocker mini-me and can’t admit it.”

I hear Bonnie gasp when I call her out on her true feelings for Garner, but when I say she wants to have his baby, I hear her slap her hand over her mouth. When I turn back to Bonnie, her eyes are wide and she is shaking her head.

“Yes, you do, sweetie. Nothing has ever been clearer to me than that. And I’ve known you forever.”

Farah backs me up. “I haven’t known you forever, but I see it too, Bon.”

Tears quickly fill Bonnie’s eyes and she dashes them away. “I...I know,” she says as her voice breaks.

Farah and I both round the bar and surround her in a group hug. I feel Bonnie’s shoulders shaking. “It’s going to be all right, Bon. We’ll get through this.”

After we have our little moment, Bonnie piles up all the snacks that are still in their original containers on a tray; and I make my famous cosmos. Farah turns on some music and spreads a bunch of square pillows around the coffee table for us to pile around. We laugh and chat and ignore all the heartache in the room while we eat our fill of take-out and, Bonnie and I drink our way through two pitchers of tart deliciousness.

Farah finally braves the topic of Bonnie’s relationship hang-ups. I’m incredibly proud of her because Bonnie can be a little scary when cornered. “Bonnie, I don’t understand why you’re holding back with Garner. He’s crazy about you, and he’s a good guy. A little rough around the edges but, ultimately, a good guy. Don’t you care about him enough to admit this to him?”

Tilting her head back a little and losing her balance a little in the process, Bonnie says, “Of course, I care about him. I don’t want to hurt him, but I honestly only want to have some fun. I can say with absolute certainty that I have no desire to get involved in a serious relationship. And not just now but ever.” Her gaze shoots forward to pin both of us. “I know what y’all are thinking, but I’m serious. I’d rather end things with Garner now than end up like that.”

“But why?” Farah asks with pure wonder.

“Farah, I was married to a man who didn’t love me.”

“Bonnie—” I start.

“No, Celeste. He didn’t. He didn’t love me, he didn’t respect me, and he didn’t care if I knew or didn’t know that. He had affairs right under my nose. Never caring how that made me feel or how that hurt me.”

“God, Bonnie. I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

“You tell me everything, Celeste. But I never told you the half of it,” she admits with a sigh.

“Why, Bonnie? You know you can talk to me.” It hurt that she hadn’t told me.

“I know that. But the worst of it went down when Tripp was dying, and I couldn’t burden you with that.” Taking a deep breath, she confesses, “I walked in on him once screwing his secretary. She was riding him in our bed, and he glanced over at me like he was annoyed with me. He just grasped her hips harder and continued all the while keeping his eyes on me. What did I ever do but love him and try to make him happy? Nothing and everything and all that lies between, that’s what.” She downs the rest of her drink with one gulp. Farah and I sit in stunned silence for a moment. I knew that they weren’t happy, but I’d had no idea it was that bad.

I pray that God gives me the words to help her because I have no idea what to say. “You do realize that that is a reflection on him and not you, Bonnie. Someone who would treat another person like that...it’s clear that he is an awful human being who was undeserving of your love and that you’re one of the most generous and deserving people I’ve ever known. And just because he was a selfish fool doesn’t mean that all men are.”

Farah chimes in with her two cents. “Yeah, and just because Matthew is a wonderful husband doesn’t mean we don’t have our share of problems. All I’ve ever wanted to be is a mother. I know that may not seem like a lofty aspiration these days. I know you two have careers. But I never wanted that. I always saw myself as a wife and a mother. And...” she pauses to take a steadying breath. “Matthew doesn’t want to have children. And it’s killing me, y’all. I love him so much and he’s so fantastic. But how do I move on from that? It’s huge. It’s everything.”

“Geez, Farah. Why doesn’t he want kids? I mean, does he never want children or does he just not want them right now? I don’t understand. Isn’t that something you would’ve talked about?” I ask her.

“Yes, we did. Of course, we did. He told me that he wanted them down the road. That he wanted me and his career to take priority early on our marriage. That he wanted me to be able to travel with him and support him without being divided by the responsibility of having children. I always thought this made sense and was the responsible thing to do. So I was fine with that. Well, last year, I started talking to him about the fact that I was getting older and that his career was stable and we should start trying.”

“And?” Bonnie prompts her.

Farah closes her eyes, blows out a deep breath, and reopens her eyes. “And he told me that he really liked the way our life is now. And that he was thinking of making a bid for senator. That was a year ago. He was hesitant, but not decided, so I waited him out a little. When I broached the conversation again, he was no longer hesitant but definite.” She looks down for a moment before sighing deeply and bringing her tear-filled eyes back to ours. “He told me that, under no circumstances, does he want children now. That he was a different person than when we first married.”

Bonnie and I exchange a troubled glance. If that had been her dream all of her life, to have children, how is she supposed to move past that? Can she move past that? “I don’t even know what to say, Farah. That’s a huge…point of contention. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that as much as I adore my husband I can’t imagine going through this life without having what you have. I know you lost your husband and haven’t had it easy, and you’ve been a rock. But those children...they’re so precious and loving, and I can’t imagine not having that. I often ask myself why Matthew can’t be enough for me. Why can’t I just be with him since I love him so much and he’s so good to me? I don’t really have an answer for that other than I just can’t. I want to be a mother. I think it’s the greatest thing I’ll ever do as a human being. If I put all that aside and accept our relationship on his new terms, I’m afraid that down the road I’ll end up resenting him, and we’ll be over anyway.”