When Girlfriends Break Hearts (18 page)

“Well there go those cupcakes,” I said gruffly, pulling a small batch of meteorites from the oven, waving the billowing smoke away. Claire started opening every window and door in the vicinity, trying to shoo clouds of black out with a dish towel.

I tossed the baking pan of unrecognizable cupcakes into the sink and took a defeated seat on the laminate kitchen floor. Shaking my head, I looked over at Claire. She was still darting about the room trying to eschew as much smoke as possible while guiding it rather unsuccessfully out the patio door. It didn’t work; like the awkwardness, it hung in the air.

 
I uncomfortably picked at a piece of the laminate tile that was coming up near the floorboards. Claire took a seat by me and tossed the dishtowel at her feet.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Sophie.”

“Oh, Claire,” I cried, leaning in to hug her. “I don’t either.”

We sat there on the kitchen floor, the smoke slowly dissipating, hugging one another and begging apologies and offering forgiveness. I told Claire that she was absolutely right. Everything she had said needed to be said. Because it was everything that I was thinking. It was everything that was real and true. I had been wandering down a dangerous path that would eventually leave me with no lasting friendships, no real relationships, no exchanged love or kindness. If I met every challenge or problem with anger and denial, if I tried to take hold and force control over situations that needed to simply progress and “let happen,” then I would be left with absolutely nothing. And I would lead a miserable life.

Claire said something that really resonated at that moment we were apologizing on the kitchen floor. She said that if I continued to hide from the facts and never learned to accept and learn to let go, live, and love, then everything that was, or had once been, great would inevitably turn sour. And everything that had already turned sour would never have the chance to spring into something beautiful and new. It was sound with her logic of “with the bad comes the good.” She said that there was plenty of room in the world for both the bad and the good, but so often we would get caught up in how terrible something was. We’d often forget to recognize that there’s always something good to see among the chaos. Always something good to enjoy and be grateful for.
 

“When life deals you lemons,” Claire told me, “You make lemon chiffon cupcakes.”

She told me that I couldn’t try to piece back what had once been and was now lost. That moment in time, in life, had passed. It was time to take the pieces and create something new now.
 

Finally, though slowly, the light at the tunnel was actually starting to shine. It was small, but I felt confident that that small light would soon grow and grow. An “end” to the madness was not far off. And it was all up to me. I guess I sort of
did
have control, although from a different perspective.

Claire was right and she had made me see it, even if against my will. I had been grabbing at what I wanted, neglecting the reality and hiding from the pain. I had been cutting away the friendships that meant the most to me. I was trying to gain control of my life, but in doing so I was driving everyone away, and ironically I was actually losing more control.

“It’s not going to be easy to pick up the pieces,” I cried through Claire’s soft curls.
 

“I know,” Claire said. “Step by step. We’re going to fix all of this. Somehow, Sophie.
Some
how…”

I didn’t know what step I would take next. Would I call Lara? Try to make amends with Robin? I wasn’t so sure about the latter. That option seemed positively horrendous. But where would I go from here?
 

Yet it was just like Claire said: I couldn’t know all the answers; not yet. I only had to be willing to learn them.
 

“It won’t be easy,” she said. “But it’s all very possible. Things aren’t exactly easy for me right now, either. If that makes you feel any better.”

“Yeah,” I said, realizing that there must have been some excuse for Claire’s reticence before our cupcakes went all black on us. “What’s going on with you, Claire? You’re avoiding telling me what’s wrong and I
know
something is bugging you.”

Claire nodded her head and said, “I have been trying to avoid it. Funny. I should take my own advice. Here I’m telling you to face the facts and deal, and I can’t even do that myself.”

I gave her a look of, “Tell me. What is going on?”

“It’s Conner,” she said. “I mentioned marriage and now he’s all weirded out. He says he doesn’t want to talk about it and that we should enjoy the way things are now. He says, ‘Because nothing is wrong with the way things are now, so why make trouble?’ Isn’t that lame? Like, get a backbone and talk to your girlfriend—your girlfriend of seven
freaking
years—about some serious stuff. We’ve talked about it a couple of times before, too. Before today in the park.”

“And that’s what you were talking about when I came home the other day?” I asked.
 

She nodded and continued. “Yeah. The same thing. I ask him to think about it. Just
thinking
about getting married, and he gets all angry and it’s the same stupid thing over and over. I want to talk about it and he doesn’t. And then—” Claire rubbed at her eyes. “And then he’s been talking about this ridiculous idea—and I mean
totally
ridiculous—this ridiculously stupid idea of moving to Los Angeles.”
 

My eyes widened. Claire couldn’t move away. “What?” I gasped.

“Don’t worry. We’re not moving. Well, I’m not at least. He’s been talking about it for months now and I never thought it was that serious. When he first brought it up I told him it was something we could think about—maybe—in the future.”

“Like when you got married?”

“Exactly! But then…” She glanced away and sighed heavily. “He keeps throwing L.A. in my face every time I mention marriage. It’s like…he has to have something to bitch about because I apparently am—what does he say?—am ‘unhappy with the status quo.’” She made quote marks with her fingers.
 

“I mean,” she said. “He’s being so stupid about it all. I told him that I’m not against the idea of moving in the future. If he finds a good job there, alright. I know my job can travel well. But it’s just…it’s just so irresponsible of him. It’s immature. That’s all it is.

“I’m here talking about a serious commitment to what I
assume
is a serious relationship, and he’s rambling on about making a big move from our home. And out of the blue! For no reason. He feels like we should give his home a try.”

I listened intently, trying to offer the best comfort I could with the holding of a hand or the rub of her back. I had heard once, perhaps when he first had the idea, that Conner wanted to consider making the move back to his home in California. I knew that Claire wasn’t against the possibility, but she had made Seattle her home since going to school at U Dub. Her friends, her career, her life were here.

“I’m just not ready to move,” Claire said firmly. “And I’m certainly not going to consider moving without a ring on this finger. I even told him that, Sophie. I told him I would be much more serious about moving to L.A.—actually give his idea a chance—if he were serious about getting married. But he’s just so damn evasive about it all.”
 

She pulled her knees in tightly to her chest. “It’s like, why would I bother uprooting my entire life for, what? Chance? I know marriage isn’t necessarily forever, but I’m not running that risk. I’m not going to chase him around. If he wants L.A.—if he wants
me
—he’ll have to prove it. Or he can just go to L.A. by himself.”

I smiled and gave Claire a warm hug. “Claire, you know he loves you. And you know he won’t move without you. And you
know
he’ll pop the question at some point. And I bet it won’t be too far off.”

“You think?”

“Yes. I seriously think so. Besides, you don’t want to get married, kick me out of your house, and move away from all of us girls, do you?” I kidded.

“Well, no,” she said. “Of course not. I just…oh, hell, I don’t know what I want.” She laughed. “I think about how long we’ve been together and how getting married shouldn’t be too crazy of a concept. Do you think?”
 

I shook my head.
 

“Exactly!” she shrieked. “It’s the most logical step. I don’t know what bigger sign he needs, but goodness. I certainly hope he considers me ‘the one.’ I want to marry him….”

“Claire,” I said softly. “Conner is over the moon about you. He’ll propose when he’s ready. And if I know Conner, the proposal is going to knock your socks off. And that kind of magical proposal takes time. And!” I was quick to add. “A wedding like the one I’m sure you want and the one I’m sure Conner wants to give you takes money. You said you’ve both been saving for your future, right? Together?”
 

She nodded.
 

“See? You’re as much a part of his future as he is yours. You need to be patient, Claire.”

“You’re right,” she said. “Patience, patience, patience. But this whole L.A. thing is ridiculous, am I not right?”

I told her that he was only running the idea by her and that I honestly couldn’t picture him packing up and hauling the two of them hundreds of miles south, farther away from Claire’s family in Oregon and far from both Conner’s and Claire’s friends.
 

Of course, if Claire had intentions to marry Conner then the notion of moving to another city was something that came with the territory of marriage. She couldn’t expect to play by all of her rules, leaving Conner to follow or else. She told me that she knew sometimes she was overreacting about the moving situation, and perhaps about the whole tying-the-knot situation, too. But a girl’s got to be a girl sometimes, and irrationality and impatience can unfortunately come with the package, especially when it comes to the opposite sex.

“I’m happy to have a great friend I can confide in, Sophie,” Claire said as I gave her another hug. “I really appreciate it.”

I told her it was the least I could do seeing how she was the best of friends any girl could ask for. But there it was again—that give and take relationship that I had with Claire. And with all my girls. Well, the few that still stood by. I had a crisis and Claire was there to help me see straight. Claire had an outburst and I could offer some pep talks. And some cupcakes.

“Hey, at least your life isn’t going crazy like mine,” I said.

“Yeah. Yeah. But Sophie, seriously. I know things are tough but you’ve
got
to stop wallowing in the pity. You’re going to pick yourself up and get through all of this. One step at a time. Okay? Pity party—over.”

“You’re right.” She was.

“Life can really suck, but we can’t let it get us down,” she said. “Easier said than done, I know. Obviously.”
 

She stood up and held out a hand for me to take, then pulled me up.

“Yeah, but why does it have to suck so hard?” I asked, chuckling. “I mean, when am I going catch a break?”

Claire held a discerning finger up and gave me a stern look. “Uh-uh,
that’s
the wrong attitude, missy. Don’t look at your life as something disastrous. It could all be gone tomorrow. I even have to remind myself of that when I’m complaining about Conner being slow on the engagement front.” She offered a small smile. “And you’d kick yourself if you spent your last days complaining about how miserable your life was. Wouldn’t you rather spend it finding the good things in it? Making
more
of the good things? Focusing on turning the bad to good?”
 

She picked up a cooled, black cupcake from the sink, glaring at it. “I mean, wouldn’t you rather eat cupcakes instead of complain about how you let a batch
burn
?”
 

I snagged the meteorite out of her hands and gave it a playful toss up in the air.
 

“Nope,” I said. “I’d rather turn lemons…” I chucked the black cupcake into the sink. “…into lemon chiffon cupcakes! Come on, let’s finish this batch and then catch a movie or something. We have
got
to get out of this house. That’s the first step I’m taking. That we’re both taking. Enough self-pity for the both of us today, right?”

Claire started to wipe down the kitchen counter of burned black specks of cupcakes. As we cleared the kitchen, the mood began to lighten. As clichéd as a rainy scene during a depressing moment? Ironically, yet wonderfully, so.

“Clooney’s got a new movie out and I’ve been dying to see it,” I said. “I’m not into that whole ruggedly handsome, seriously mature, older kind of man thing—no matter how devilishly handsome he might be. That’s not why I see his movies of course.”

Claire nodded her head in agreement. Neither of us were the die-hard George Clooney fans that we were of, say, Hugh Grant, Brad Pitt, or even Ryan Gosling. Sure, Brad and Hugh could probably fit into the whole “older attractive guy” group with Clooney, but it wasn’t the same. Clooney was his own brand of “hot older maleness” that neither Claire nor I really understood.

“But I think the movie looks decent enough. And I usually like what he does.”

“Yeah,” Claire said. “Maybe we can finally understand what Jackie sees in that whole older-guy thing, you know?”
 

I laughed. “Seriously! What in heaven’s name is she doing with the latest guy?”

“Oh God, I don’t know. Have you heard from her lately?”
 

“Oh, Claire, you know she’s always out doing something or busy going somewhere.”

And on we went, as if there had never been a fight to begin with. And even in spite of, or perhaps because of, the fight with Claire I was beginning to feel that newness she said I needed to embrace. I was willing to let the pieces fall where they may, and I was finally ready to pick them up and piece them together, turning them into whatever was next for me.
 

Would it be a reconciliation and newfound friendship with Robin? With Lara? Both of them? I hoped so. Would it be a new love in my life? I was pretty confident that would happen. Would something good come from the bad that Pamela was going through?