10:57 P.M.
“ I HAVE TROUBLE WITH PEOPLE LEAVING,” I say. I feel more vulnerable than I did an hour ago—I think, as I look around at us all pulling at our desserts, that we all feel a little bit softer. Time is closing in on us, and I need to be honest about the things in myself that need to be brought to the surface. “You and then Tobias.” I nod at Robert.
“And me,” Jessica says.
I look at her.
“What?” she says. “I left, too. You think it’s my fault. That I should give you more or I abandoned you or you need too much from me, but that’s not how I see it,” Jessica says.
“How do you see it?” Audrey asks. Her tone is soft, motherly.
“We grew up,” she said. “We weren’t living together anymore. I got married.”
I thought we were done with this when she asked why I’d in cluded her, why she was here, but the pain between Jessica and me runs deep. Probably because the history does, too.
“I know all of that,” I say. “But you act like you don’t care, like our friendship is a nuisance to you. We only see each other when I suggest it. Sometimes I’m afraid that if I stopped calling you, we would never speak again.”
“That’s crazy,” Jessica says, but she doesn’t seem convinced by her own words.
“Is it?”
“I have a baby, okay? My life is different. You never understand that.”
“It was that way before the baby. You’re supposed to be my best friend, but Kendra knows more about what’s going on in my life than you do.”
Jessica blows some air out of her lips, like a low whistle. “You’re incredible,” she says. “You’re never responsible, right? It’s never your fault. People are human, Sabrina! They screw up and they’re not perfect and they’re selfish and sometimes they’re doing the best they can.”
Next to me, Tobias pinches the space between his eyes, at the top ridge of his nose.
“Jess,” I say.
“Fine,” she says. “We’ll just sit here and listen as you trash us and nod and apologize. It’s your dinner, right?”
Her words hit me like a sucker punch. “I’m sorry if I need too much from you,” I say slowly. “But I don’t have a family. My mom is three thousand miles away; I live by myself…” My voice catches and I hate it, hate that I’m so vulnerable here, hate that I can’t seem to just stand up on and move on. Hate that she’s right—that it’s not her responsibility, of course it’s not. She can’t fix it, even if I still keep wanting her here. “And I need you sometimes. And I don’t always want to have to ask. I don’t want to feel like hanging out with me is some kind of chore for you.”
“It’s not,” Jessica says.
“Isn’t it? Did you really want to be here tonight? Did you even want to keep up this birthday tradition?”
Jessica looks at me. For the first time I see how tired she looks. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in days.
“I wanted you to have a good birthday,” she says, which of course is not an answer.
I don’t have the answer either, though.
“There are things I have to do now or my life stops working,” she says. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, it’s just true.”
“I miss you,” I say.
Jessica runs a hand through her hair. “I miss you, too,” she says. “I just don’t always have the energy to do something about it.”
A waiter appears to my side. “Are you finished?” he asks me. He points to the soup of ice cream in front of me.
“Yes,” I say.
“You’re so hard on me,” Jessica says.
“That’s exactly how I feel about you,” I tell her. “You never agree with anything I do.”
“That’s not true,” Jessica says. “I think you’re amazing. Your career, I envy it. I miss having a life like that.”
“But you’re so happy in Connecticut,” I say.
“Am I?” she asks. “You’ve been to visit me three times in as many years. How would you know?”
It’s true, I never make it out there. She never invites me, either, but what came first? My unwillingness to go, or her unwillingness to extend herself?
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I really am. I didn’t…”
“I told you, I don’t blame you. This is just what is right now. I don’t think there is a ton for us to do about it.”
“But what if we just keep drifting apart and never find our way back?”
Jessica sighs. She looks at me, unblinking. “Or what if we do? Can’t we believe in that for a change?”
TWENTY-TWO
“ WHY DON’T YOU BORROW OUR CABIN?” Kendra said to me at work. I was complaining that the city was feeling claustrophobic lately, but in truth it was our apartment. When Tobias wasn’t out taking photos he was in the chair editing them. Lately I felt disappointed when I’d come home and find him there—which gave me a sinking feeling every time. “My parents never use it. You could just go up there this weekend and clear your head.”
I thought about drinking wine by a fire, locking my phone away, and listening to the wind or trees or whatever nature sounded like—it had been far too long. It was November and the beach was the last time I’d left the city. “That sounds amazing,” I said.
“Great, I’ll bring the keys tomorrow.”
I came home intent on telling Tobias my plan. I thought he’d be happy to have the weekend to himself—and that it would be good for us to spend some time apart.
I walked in the door and the Mambo Kings were playing—salsa music I loved. I could smell the garlic and oil and a mix of spices only Tobias could wield.
I dropped my bag down and tossed my shoes off. His back was to me over the stove, and he immediately turned around, a wide grin on his face.
“My queen,” he said. “Welcome to paradise.” He put his hands on my waist and guided me to the counter, where a blender full of margaritas sat with two waiting salt-rimmed glasses. “We couldn’t get to Mexico, so I brought Mexico to us.” He held out a glass to me.
“Yes, please.”
He filled mine up and then his and then held his glass out to me. “Viva margaritas,” he said.
“To us,” I said.
Instead of taking a sip I hooked a hand into the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.
He set his drink down and lifted me off the counter stool, winding his hands down my back and tugging me in closer.
“I’m cooking,” he said against my mouth.
“Not anymore.”
It had been almost three weeks since we’d had sex—a record number for us, and one I knew was indicative of something wrong in our relationship. We put a lot of emphasis on sex—or I did. It was good, really good, and when we were in that space together I felt as sure as I ever did about our rightness. When we were out of it I felt fractured, disconnected.
Tobias moved his lips to my cheek. “There are three different kinds of fajitas on that stove,” he told me. “Not a chance.” He grabbed my butt and then gently nudged me away from him as he went back to the food. I didn’t feel rejected, more amused. We were back in the love bubble. I slurped my drink and watched him work.
After we ate, when we were full of fajitas and tequila, I told him the Berkshires plan. Except I didn’t tell him I wanted to go alone. I said I wanted us to go together.
“That sounds perfect,” he told me.