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I’ve made it to Friday, and I’m supposed to be having a girls’ night out, but I’m not in the mood to drink and then cry in public, because I know that is what the night will turn into. Amanda has been home for a few days, but I haven’t told her anything about Brooks, just that he and I were going to slow things down and spend a little time apart. I’m having a hard time admitting to myself, let alone anyone else, that it might be completely over.
The pulsing of my phone pulls me from my pit of misery. I slowly peek at the screen, hoping that it’s not from Brooks, again. When I see Jen’s name appear in the message box, I’m relieved but surprisingly disappointed too.
Jen: I hope u drank plenty of water today. Us bitches are going 2 tear it up tonight!! Plus I have an extra surprise 4 u!
I let out a groan. Just as I suspected, a liquored-up evening of embarrassing body bouncing that will ultimately end with me sobbing about how Brooks has let me down again. If there’s enough tequila involved throughout the evening, it might even include a cab ride to Brooks’ house so Jen can skewer his balls. She always follows through.
Me: I don’t really feel like it tonight, rain check.
Jen: Oh, hell no! Not happening…I will be over at 5. Get ur ass in the shower. I can smell ur skank from here.
I scrunch my nose at the word skank as my eyes pass over it. I love her to death, but damn if she isn’t the most uncouth 28-year-old professional woman I know.
Me: OMG, did you just really call me skanky! I am a mom for fuck’s sake.
Jen: What can I say? I’m a straight shooter lol. JK. Start getting ready. I’ll be over soon. U R GOING!
Me: Grrrr
Jen: Shut it. I’ll bring clothes from the shoot today. Mom jeans or yoga pants are not approved attire for the evening. I’m taking u somewhere fun tonight!
Me: Mom jeans? Really?
Jen: Well like u said, ur a mom for fuck’s sake. LMAO!
Me: Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Ttyl.
Jen: Bye muffin (without the top) hehehe.
Letting out a giggle, I turn in my desk chair and toss my phone on my bed just as I hear the front door open. Amanda is home from picking up the kids from school, and their voices echo up the stairs. Raising my arms above my head, I stretch, letting my tired muscles burn. The stress of the situation is wearing on me. Maybe a girls’ night would loosen the tension that’s taking over my body.
After sliding on my slippers and adjusting my greasy–yes, I said greasy–ponytail, I adjust my sweatpants and tee shirt to go downstairs and greet the kids. Reflecting on my attire, maybe Jen had a point; I am one pathetic mess at the moment. She probably could smell me from the other side of the suburb. I smell my armpit, hoping for the scent of the deodorant that promised miracles. I pull away quickly from the detonation zone after catching the stench of my own wretched body odor. Yup, I’m an embarrassing disarray of a woman.
I spritz some body spray on, hoping to mask my obvious post-breakup meltdown, and then I head down the hall to find everyone. Just as I reach the top of the stairs, their conversation becomes clearer, forcing my body to halt. My feet refuse to take another step forward.
“So Brooks asked you guys for permission?” I hear Amanda ask.
“Yeah, he said he loves Mom and us, and wants us all to be a family. So he asked if it was okay if he married her,” Blake answered.
I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth in disbelief. I knew we were serious; we both wanted to move forward. But after finding out the truth, I’m shocked that he would even consider making us a family without sharing his secret with me. It would have been a surprise, and I would struggle dealing with the ramifications, including what my family would say, but I would have never judged him for it. I just wish he could have trusted me enough to know that.
“He showed us the ring and everything, Aunt Manda!” Emma squeals. “It’s sooo pretty, and he said Grace and I will get to wear princess dresses and throw flowers at people.”
“You mean you two get to be the flower girls,” Amanda laughs.
“Yes!” she shouts. But then I hear Blake shush her.
“Quiet, it’s a surprise, remember? Mom isn’t supposed to find out. He’s going to ask her next weekend when they go on a special trip. Then we can all talk about it. Okay, Em?”
“Okay, my lips are sealed.” I picture her doing her special lip-zipper move and throwing away the key. She means well, but Emma has never been able to keep a secret. She is a blabbermouth in training. We can never tell her what anyone is getting for their birthday or Christmas because she always lets it slip.
Unable to hear any more of this gutting conversation, I try to make as much noise as possible as I march down the stairs so they’ll quickly end their discussion.
True to her word, Jen shows up with her arms filled with dresses and accessories for our girls’ night on the town. She pokes and prods, pins and fluffs until she feels I’m presentable. I feel like I’m doing an excellent job of masking my misery; hell, I’m used to it by now. For the last week, I would put on the ‘everything is fine’ show for Amanda and the kids, but as soon as they left, I would fall apart and spend the day soaking in my gloom.
However, as I sink onto the cool barstool at the bar she has dragged us all to, I see her glaring at me, and I know my façade has been discovered. I order a pink moscato, which surprisingly, Jen doesn’t protest, but when she says nothing when Carly orders an ice water, I know some kind of inquisition is shooting my way.
Deflecting, I grab my drink and swing in my stool to look out to the sea of twenty-somethings chatting and laughing, letting off steam after what I imagine was a stressful work week. I only wish work was why I was tense.
“So, what is the surprise that you told me you just had to share with us, and was so important we all had to dress-up and come out for?” I ask as I click my four-inch, probably $400 heels together, which she brought over from her photo-shoot.
“You’ll see soon, and by the way, I realize something is up with you, but you don’t need to take it out on the shoes. Those are Manolo fucking Blahniks for Christ’s sake; have some respect.”
I stop my leg swinging and hold up my hands as a sign of surrender. “Sorry, I’m just anxious for your surprise,” I lie.
“Seriously, what is going on, Jen? We’ve had this girls’ night pla
Before she can answer, Jen lets out a bellowing screech that attracts the attention of all nearby patrons. I cover my ears, and then I watch as she sprints from our group toward the masses of people. People part as she approaches, until she finds her target, and is pulled into an embrace. I still can’t see who is meant to be are fourth wheel for the evening, and Carly and I look to each other for the answer. We both come up blank until Jen pulls away from our mystery guest and begins walking back to us.
“Oh, my God, that is Campbell!” Carly shouts and runs towards Jen and our old roommate. She is bouncing up and down like a teenage girl who’s just seen her favorite boy band member. Neither Jen nor Campbell joins in her bouncing; instead, they just grin and absorb her excitement.
I hop off my chair and follow her, happy to see my old friend, but nowhere near Carly’s overabundance of enthusiasm. I haven’t seen her since mine and Will’s wedding, when the band that she was promoting played for the reception.