Circle in the Sand (7 page)

By the time we get to the Anderson’s house, it’s already seven o’clock and the sun
has gone down, swallowed up by the ocean. I’m not worried about the time. We still
have tomorrow, and I’m already sensing that this weekend is going to be special—something
each of us desperately needs.

The house is tidy even though they left last minute, but more importantly, the refrigerator
is full. There are three bedrooms, two baths, and a small patio that faces Mission
Bay and the marina. A walking path and a large grassy area separate these homes from
the water. To the right, you can see Sea World in the distance. In the summer, this
makes for a great viewing spot to watch the fireworks at the park.

“So how do you know these people?” Sage asks, sitting at the counter on a bar stool.

I take a glass of water and pour some into each of the four plants that sit in the
window sill. “I met Jung and Margaret ten years ago when I worked in their t-shirt
shop on the boardwalk.” I see a weary potato bug in the dirt of one plant and scoop
him up in my fingernail. I carry him to the patio door, where I step out and deposit
him in a bush.

“His name is Jung?” Sage says.

“Yeah, it’s Korean. It means righteous. As in, it’s pretty
righteous
of them to let us use this place,” I say.

“Cute and very true.”

“They’re two of the most generous people I know. We’ve stayed close over the years,
and I even babysat their boys way back when.”

Sage stands up and goes to the fridge. “So they don’t care if we help ourselves?”

“She practically begged me to make sure we did. Her father had a heart attack, so
they rushed out of here and flew to Oregon. They don’t want to come back to a bunch
of rotten food.”

“Great, then I think I’ll start with a glass of this Chardonnay.”

After opening and closing five cupboards, Sage locates two wine glasses and fills
them up. “I hope Emily gets here soon.”

“Me too,” I say and grab the glass from the counter. I see her lift up her glass to
me, so I blurt out, “No toasts!”

“Crap, girl.” She looks startled.

“Sorry. Not yet. We have to wait for Emily.”

She shrugs. “Sorry, I forgot. Do you think Ned will stay?”

I’m not sure of the answer, but I say, “Why, do you want him to?” Our faithful sidekick
Ned sure did take a beating over the years. To an outsider, we probably came off as
three little bitches the way we treated him sometimes. But I honestly believe he loved
it…part of the time. If I’m being honest, maybe I was the worst of us all. He was
always too nice and an easy target. But he did somehow manage to give back almost
as much as I gave.

Sage doesn’t answer right away, only peers out the back patio and takes another sip
of her wine. Then she says, “I might need a favor from him.”

That’s not unusual. There was a time when Sage and Emily were in college that I wondered
if she’d hooked up with Ned. An awkward aura stood in the room whenever we were all
together. I never asked. It was none of my business and looking back, I probably didn’t
want to know.

●●●

Emily arrives a little after seven-thirty, timid and frazzled. I’ve seen that version
of her before, the glazed-over eyes longing for little arms to wrap around your neck.
And I’m sure she’d just spent the last hour running over a list, or should I say lists,
for Eric and kissing and re-kissing each of her darlings. I don’t blame her at all.
I assume when you almost lose a child, you never want to let go of them again.

Ned stands behind her in the doorway. As far as twins go, the resemblance is not striking.
They both have the same dusty-blue eyes and light brown hair that never cooperates,
but that’s where the similarities end. Ned is much taller at about five-ten. His looks
are not rugged or model-like, but pleasant—the type of guy who appears more attractive
when you get to know him. There is something about his smile, though. He seems to
get that when he’s completely annoyed me, he can smile in that certain way that makes
me a little less annoyed.

Sage hugs Emily and then Ned.

I hug Emily, pat her back, and then when my eyes lock on Ned’s I say, “Hey, Nerdy.”

“Hey, Wonder Woman,” he answers right back.

First Sage today at lunch and now Ned? They must be comparing notes, but it doesn’t
matter since Wonder Woman is ancient history.

Sage laughs. “I tried one at lunch, but I guess she’s all grown up now. Wonder Woman
has hung up her cape.”

“Hey,” I say in my defense. “My fascination with wonderment was never about maturity.”

I can tell Emily is not listening to a word we are saying. I take her hand, squeeze
it, and give her a smile.

“Yeah,” Sage says, “that was real mature what you did to Alison Kingsly.”

It was our sophomore year of high school and we’d arrived back from lunch. Emily,
Sage, and I stood in the hall at Sage’s locker. Her mortal enemy, Alison Kingsly,
and her sidekick Luann leaned against a wall a few feet away from us. Alison had stolen
Sage’s boyfriend earlier that year by batting a set of overly exposed melons at him.
She seemed to have it in for Sage merely because she was popular and beautiful.

Alison had her eye on a new boy named Trey. She put the word out that he was going
to be hers. Trey happened to walk by that day, stopping to stuff a baseball glove
in his locker. Alison said to Luann loud enough for the three of us to hear, “I can’t
wait to taste those beautiful lips.” We all shook our heads with disgusted expressions
on our faces. We started to walk away when Alison said, “I
wonder
if he’s a good kisser?”

The three of us stopped as if a brick wall slid down from the sky in front of us.
We all knew what that word “wonder” did to me. Sage and Emily busted into a fit of
giggles, aware of what was about to happen. I turned and walked right up to Trey,
hooked my hand behind his neck, and pulled him in for a long kiss. He caught on perfectly
fine and willingly participated. After, I marched by Alison and Luann, their mouths
agape and said, “Now you don’t have to wonder. The answer is yes.”

But I wasn’t doing my Wonder Woman routine any longer. It lost its luster after a
while, and I came to the understanding that there are way too many things in this
universe to wonder about. And sometimes the mysteries in life were better left to
the cosmos, to unfold how they were meant to and when destiny set them. But that doesn’t
mean I didn’t watch for signs. There are always signs.

Now I am more worried about Emily and getting her off to a good start for this weekend.
I have to get her mind off missing her kids. We say our goodbyes to Ned, and I invite
him to a barbeque tomorrow after we do some shopping. When he hesitates, Sage jumps
in to insist. This seems to make Emily happy, but not happy enough. This is serious
and we need a serious remedy. Sage and I race Emily to the kitchen, ready to hook
her up to a wine IV if necessary. When each of us has a glass in hand, we begin with
our toast. Sage says a few simple words, but no one brings up our pledge. I guess
it’s silly now, but I actually had the urge to grab their hands and say it. I wonder
if I’m the only one experiencing this nostalgia.

Within minutes, we are lounging in the living room, acting like giddy teenagers again.
I watch Emily’s expressions, trying to see if she’s faking it or actually having a
good time. She’s become expert at the facial facade, fooling almost everyone but me.
But I never try to push her into talking; I only try to be there. Maybe that’s not
enough anymore.

At first, we all steer clear of the past. We also don’t talk about our current lives.
Instead we talk about books, movies, reality television—safe topics that will keep
this conversation light. None of us wants to bring up anything that will take our
mood down, which makes me consider we all might be holding on to something that could.
It also shows me how hesitant we’ve become to share our feelings.

Later, we discover two treasures: The Anderson’s extensive CD collection with tons
of great albums from the eighties to now, and frozen cookie dough in the freezer.
I take charge as DJ while Emily gets the cookies going. Sage slips away to get on
her laptop. I switch from song to song, continuing until the boos being shouted from
the other room subside. Finally, I put on Madonna’s Greatest Hits, the perfect party-girl
dance mix. Moments later, I come up behind a rapidly typing Sage.

“Really?” I say over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry. This is important.”

“It’s the weekend. Your boss can’t give you a break?”

“I’m under a lot of pressure,” Sage says never stopping her fingers. “You wouldn’t
understand.”

Of course I wouldn’t understand the pressure since I never had a
real
job. “Nice,” I say and walk away.

“Wait!” Sage turns in her chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.”

“So how did you mean it then?”

Emily comes up behind me. “What’s going on, ladies?”

“Sage was just about to explain to me what it means to hold down a real job.”

Sage gets up from her chair, walks over to us, and leans against the counter. “Actually,
I wasn’t.”

Emily and I exchange confused glances and then turn our attention back to Sage. I
can see now there is something more. No matter how far apart we may have grown, I
can never miss the concern in my friend’s eyes. I decide it’s time to lose the attitude.
“What’s going on, hon?”

Sage folds her arms, stares down at her feet. Madonna is ironically singing about
celebration, something we had for a while there. “It’s not only about the work,” she
says. “I don’t really want to talk about it. We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?”

The three of us stand in silence for a moment. We’ve never had this awkward space
between us before. It feels off and frustrates the hell out of me. I hope I’m not
the only one who cares. The only one who wants things to be the way they used to be.
I also don’t enjoy being a hypocrite, knowing I’m keeping my own secret from them.
“God, this sucks. Why can’t we talk to each other the way we used to?” My tone comes
out overly exaggerated. I wonder if they can tell I’m not only talking about Sage.

More silence. Then, finally, Sage says, “It’s about my boss, Christine.”

Emily and I cross over to her, each standing on one side. “What do you mean?” I say.

“At the Christmas party, Christine’s husband hit on me.”

Emily snorts a laugh like old times but quickly stifles it. “Sorry. It’s just so typical
Sage.”

“No it’s not,” Sage says sounding offended. “And what’s that supposed to mean anyway?”

Emily puts an arm around Sage, gives her a squeeze. “It’s just that men have always
fallen at your feet. That’s all I meant.”

“I didn’t do anything to encourage him. Honestly. He was drunk, and he followed me
to a back room when I went to take a call. That asshole came up right behind and put
his arm around my waist, and I could feel…”

“Gross!” I shriek.

“Yeah,” Sage says. “And I was talking to my dad on the phone.”

“Ew, even grosser,” Emily says.

We all giggle hesitantly, being careful not to make light of this situation. “So what
did you do?” I ask, trying to keep things mature.

“I elbowed him in the gut, not even knowing who was behind me. It was instinct.” Sage
smiles for an instant, but it fades. “When I turned around and saw who it was, I couldn’t
believe it. I sort of froze. Then I ran out of there. I seriously think Christine
found out.”

“But it’s not your fault,” Emily says.

“And why hasn’t she said anything?” I add.

“I don’t know,” Sage says. “She’s always expected a lot from me, but lately she’s
been really…I don’t know, maybe kind of snide about things.”

“I’m sorry, Sage,” Emily says.

“What a dick!” I say, and we all fall out laughing. “So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing, I guess, except keep working my ass off and hope I’ll still get my promotion.
Or at least not get fired. What else can I do?” Emily and I rub our support into Sage’s
back as we head to the kitchen for additional support from empty calories.

Later, we’re sitting around the coffee table in the living room, stuffing our faces
with cookies and still drinking. I figure the wine has relaxed them enough to get
them to do our pledge. I don’t care how lame it is. It’s a tradition. I set my glass
down on the table and reach for Sage’s hand.

“No way.” She pulls away, an embarrassed grin appearing on her face. She shakes her
head similar to a child refusing broccoli.

“Come fucking on,” I say with pleading eyes and a slight slur in my voice. “
Please
.” I sigh, and just then, I feel Emily’s hand clasp into mine.
Yes
. My grin takes over, and now we are both looking at Sage, waiting.

“Whatever,” she says and grabs my hand and one of Emily’s.