Novella
Loser
by Sabra Benedict
Janie is fed up with her life. Her three children are grown and out of the house--a house she feels trapped in. She spends day after day in an explosive relationship with a volatile husband. Then a tragedy happens and changes everything.
After coming into an inheritance, Janie feels ready to leave the man she has been with for over thirty years. She relies on friends and family to help guide her through a world she hid from for decades while re-learning the things she forgot she loved. She even goes on a date or two.
Journal Pieces
Solstice MFA Anthology
Penumbra - Features the first several pages of Loser.
Quintessence - Features the short story "One Eyed-Lady".
Short Story
Currently "Untitled" can be found in excerpts in my monthly newsletter. For the first time ever, view the full story here!
"Untitled"
by Sabra Benedict
I’d forgotten what she looked like. Being ex-best friends can do that to you. What I remembered as dull brownish hair was actually a shocking bluish black. It’s amazing how hatred can taint your memories, ripping apart the good and piecing together the remnants of the bad.
I stopped short and my heel got caught in the crack of the sidewalk, causing me to trip over my own feet and land sprawled on the cement in front of her. I bit my tongue and my mouth filled with blood.
“Hi, Carrie,” she said with a wide smile as she helped peel me from the pavement. Her tone was light, friendly. Like she was happy to see me. Another shock.
“Megan,” I said. My distaste normally would’ve been hard to hide, but was overridden with embarrassment. Not only had I fallen in front of Megan, but as we were on Boylston Street in downtown Boston I had many witnesses to my never-ending clumsiness.
She reached forward to hug me and I froze, arms stuck to my sides. A hug? After everything she’d done to me? Abandoning me in a strange city? Always putting others before me? I didn’t want her touching me. I didn’t even want her breathing the same air as me. And, yet, I’d missed her.
She wasn’t taken aback by my repulsion at all.
“You look great,” she said.
I knew I did. I’d lost over seventy pounds since I’d last seen her six years ago. And, by the looks of it, she’d gained about that much. I couldn’t revel in her near-obesity because she was still gorgeous. That blue-black hair? It fell in big, luscious waves down her back. Although her ass was enormous her waist was miniscule. She had the epitome of an hourglass shape.
In the old days I’d had dyed-red hair, blue eyes, no butt, and amazing breasts. The only thing I hoped had changed was the hair. Megan and I had always been opposites. And when we’d walked down the street together all eyes had been on us. That I’d also missed.
“Thanks,” I said. What the hell else was I supposed to say? The last time I’d seen her she’d tried to beat me up—in the store she managed. I’d reported her to corporate (who did nothing) and never spoke to her again. Ah, the good old days.
“How’ve you been? How are your parents?” she asked.
I was grinding my teeth into the gums, trying to figure out a way to escape. I didn’t like my options. “Great,” I said. “Everything’s great.”
“Aww, awesome,” Megan said.
She was too much. I was reluctant to ask how her family was doing. Did she still have the same boy-friend? The last one had hated me. The last one had killed our friendship. I said nothing. Very little time passed before Megan filled the silence.
“My family’s good, too,” she said. “Winnie still lives at home, but she finally has a job. She’s working as a waitress.”
Winnie was Megan’s younger sister—by thirteen years. When we were teenagers Winnie attended the daycare at our high school. She had been adorable, looked like a mini-Megan, and threw the most entertaining tantrums. She would collapse to the ground faster than a fat lady without a parachute and flail her arms and legs around. I’d thought it was cute, while also being grateful that I was an only child. She should’ve gone into acting.
“That’s good,” I said. My knee was starting to ache from my fall, but at least my tongue had stopped bleeding.
“I’m not with Donny anymore.”
And there it was. The tiny bit of information I’d been dying to know.
“Really,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I believed her. He’d never been good enough for her anyway. I wondered how serious things got before Megan and he ended their relationship.
“We were engaged,” she said. It was as if we could still read each other’s minds.
How could she let it go so far? “What happened?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Megan chewed her lip—an old habit I guess she still couldn’t break. “He cheated on me,” she said.
I wished I was surprised. I almost felt bad that she had to go through such a thing. Almost.
“Wow,” I said and rubbed my knee. I was lucky not to have broken the skin.
“I’ve sworn off men for a while.”
I bit my tongue to keep from laughing and tasted fresh blood. Megan couldn’t be single. There was always something in the works, some guy friend who was infatuated with her and ready to jump in the sack. But, instead of laughing I nodded and said, “Me too.” Although my being single wasn’t really by choice. I just got dumped a lot.
Megan twirled her hair around her finger and smiled. I had forgotten about her little annoying habits.
“Where’re you headed?” she asked.
Yes—an out. I glanced at my watch and lo and behold I had someplace I needed to be—fast. “I’m off to an interview.” I was going to buy a coffee beforehand, but now I wouldn’t have time. Great.
“An interview for what?”
“Office manager at an advertising firm.”
“Sounds exciting,” she said. I could tell she meant it, even though another office job didn’t sound exciting to me. “Want to exchange numbers so we can catch up some more?”
I wasn’t sure. Did I want to let her back into my life? Was I prepared for the pain that might bring? I studied her face for signs of a change. She seemed genuinely happy to see me.
“Okay,” I said.
We each reached into our own bags and pulled out cell phones.
Megan’s smile grew and I was blinded by her bright white teeth. She happily punched my number into her phone and I hesitantly entered hers into mine.
“I’ll call you soon,” she said.
I doubted it. I wouldn’t sit by the phone and wait. But I might hope.
*
It had been three days since Megan and I had run into each other and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. When things had been good they’d been great, but when things went bad it’d been catastrophic. We’d always gotten through it, though—like sisters. Until the end.
Donny thought I was okay in the beginning. Before he really knew me. When I first moved to Boston from LA, after another failed relationship and to be near Megan who had relocated for a job, it was a week before my birthday. Since I didn’t know anyone else in the city Megan and Donny took me to a fancy restaurant for dinner. He went so far as to buy me a present by himself—which was carefully thought out. I’d always been obsessed with old Mickey Mouse memorabilia and he ordered me a stuffed animal off eBay from 1934. No one ever gave me anything like it before or since. For a few short months we got along great, aside from my constantly feeling as if Megan always devoted more of her time to Donny than to me. Three months after I moved to LA the honeymoon period ended and things got awkward—fast. I witnessed Donny treat Megan like shit and watched her bend over backwards one too many times. I flipped out. I went at him with blackout rage that would normally be reserved for the immediate family. He wasn’t pleased. He raged back. Megan was put in a rough spot. She was forced to choose between her best-friend and her boy-friend. She picked him, ending our friendship of eleven years.
The phone rang, causing me to nearly have an anxiety attack as I was yanked back to the present. Caller ID showed that it was Megan. My hands shook. I was opening a can of worms that could never be closed.
She was as cheerful on the phone as she’d been in person. We agreed to meet the next day, a Friday, at a pub downtown, which surprised me because she always seemed to have a sense of silent disapproval when it came to my drinking. I let her pick because I didn’t think it mattered where we went, as long as it wasn’t too intimate. I didn’t mind catching up with her, but I wanted it to be light, casual. The last thing I wanted was to be vulnerable to her, just so she could chip away at my soul again.
Like the time I was the one to try and rekindle our friendship. It had been about six months since our relationship shriveled up and died. A mutual friend who still lived in LA confessed that Megan admitted to missing me. I’d been surprised. She’d been pretty clear in her last phone call about hating me for causing trouble in her relationship with Donny—which only happened because I cared. But because I also missed her I thought that maybe there was hope of us becoming friends again.
I remembered the way Megan’s customer service smile turned to a look of pure hatred when she realized it was me who’d entered her store. My heart broke a little then, but I still tried to talk to her.
She didn’t want anything to do with me. I tried to make small talk, which only resulted in her holding her palm up in front of my face. By that point I was angry knowing that she had no real reason to be angry at me. I mocked her wanting to slap me. Not the best choice. She threatened to beat me up and I told her to go for it. She didn’t. She did the smart thing and went into the back—the stockroom. That was the last time I saw her before falling to my knees in front of her on Boylston Street.
I hoped things had changed. I hoped she had changed.
*
I had trouble picking out my clothes for my outing with Megan. I felt like I was getting ready for battle. I chose a little black dress and black boots—my signature ensemble. I looked amazing. I was amazing. If I told myself this enough times it might come true.
I took a bus downtown and arrived at the bar thirty minutes early. I was okay with that because it meant I could ease my jitters with a pre-game drink, although I wasn’t sure how Megan would feel about me being tipsy before she arrived. I didn’t care. I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea at the bar and stared at the door. Maybe she wouldn’t even show. Maybe she remembered how scary I was when I got angry and decided it wasn’t worth it. Maybe I should’ve decided it wasn’t worth it.
The place was empty. Being unemployed allowed me the luxury of sitting in a bar at 4pm. Megan was probably still running her own store with her own hours. I didn’t know how I felt about the bar, though. It was a bit more divey than I liked my bars. The few patrons there looked okay enough—no one seemed near-homeless. But it was small, maybe only ten or so tables and a long bar that spread across the length of the room. A little more intimate than I’d hoped for.
By the time Megan walked in I was buzzed and ready to flee. Her smile eased my doubts and I was able to breathe easier.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice was breathy, shallow, as if she’d been running. “Sorry I’m late.” She leaned in and gave me a hug. This time I let her. “Should we get a table? Or do you want to stay at the bar?”
“A table is good,” I said. I downed the rest of my drink and settled the bill.
We were seated at a booth by the window. The perfect table for people-watching—one of my favorite past times. Megan didn’t have the attention span for it.
“I’m starving,” she said.
I laughed. From what I could remember she was always hungry. “Okay,” I said. “What do you think you want?”
Megan was strumming her fingers on the table. “A bacon cheeseburger.”
I studied the salad section. I had no desire to be over two-hundred pounds again.
“What about you?” Megan asked.
“I’m gonna get a salad.” I was proud of myself, but Megan looked horrified.
“For real?”
“Yeah, for real,” I said and laughed.
The waitress came over and we placed our orders. We each ordered a beer in addition to our meals. Empty calories I’d try to ignore.
“How’d the interview go?” Megan asked after the waitress walked away.
“Pretty good. I should know in a couple of days.” It was weird to be sitting here with her, to be talking about everyday stuff. It had been too long.
“Awesome. What happened to the other job you had?”
I’d been an office manager at a graphic design firm when Megan and I’d last been friends. “I was laid-off about six months ago. They weren’t doing well and now the owner is acting as office manager.”
“Oh, man, that sucks.”
I shrugged. “It’s been okay. I’m living off unemployment right now.”
“Well, good that you were able to get that,” Megan said and smiled.
“Yeah. What about you? Still managing the cheese store?”
She made a face like she was sick. “Yes, unfortunately. I dream about cheese.”
We both laughed.
The waitress came back with our drinks and I was grateful to loosen up with some more alcohol. The beer was a little stale but it would do.
“Do you come to this place a lot?” I asked, trying to hide my distaste.
“No, not really. I’ve only been here a couple of times. Do you like it?”
“It’s so dead.” I commented. If I was going to leave the house I wanted to be somewhere that was bustling. I wasn’t surprised that I disagreed with Megan’s choice of venue. There were many nights we never ended up going out because we couldn’t agree on where to go.
“Well, it’s still early.” The smile had slipped from her face, to be replaced with a look I was more familiar with. Disappointment, dissatisfaction.
“I guess,” I said and sipped at my beer. I looked around and admired the artwork. There were dozens of paintings of the beach.
“I didn’t think you’d still be in Boston,” Megan said.
I put the beer down. “You thought I’d run back to LA?” Everyone had. Since Megan was the only one I knew in Boston my friends and family back home assumed I would immediately return.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I didn’t need to go back,” I said. I was proud that I’d survived on my own.
Neither of us said anything for a while.
I broke the silence by trying to make her feel awkward instead of me. “When did you and Donny break up?”
Megan started to twirl her hair. “A little over a year ago.”
My God. They’d stayed together five more years? Awful. “Wow. Did you get far in the wedding planning process?”
“Oh, yeah. I had a dress and veil, caterer, DJ, dance hall…” her voice trailed off.
“Wow. I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. She didn’t deserve all that, no matter how much animosity I might feel toward her.
The waitress arrived with our food then. As soon as she left we started eating. My salad was mediocre—some of the green vegetables were turning brown and the chicken was chewier than steak. Megan seemed pleased with her bloody burger.
“You know, I’m really sorry about what happened between us,” Megan said, somewhat out of the blue.
I nodded. She should be sorry. She’d been a terrible friend. My heart started to hurt.
“I just didn’t know what to do. Donny and I had just gotten back together after being broken up for a few months. You were drinking so much. I couldn’t handle it.”
My mouth was dry but I kept chewing. I could feel the tears pressing at the back of my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about this. I took a sip of my water to wash down the salad.
“Sometimes you drank so much you were belligerent,” she continued.
“One would think,” I said and placed my glass back down on the table, “that if you were really my friend, and I was that bad off, that you would’ve—”
“Stuck around?”
“Well, yes. If I needed help you should’ve helped me, rather than abandoning me.”
Megan nodded. “I know. I even sort of knew it then.”
She’d always been very stubborn. I was a bit taken aback that she was taking the blame so easily.
I tried to eat more salad while Megan gobbled down the rest of her burger. A little bloody juice dripped down her chin, contrasting greatly with her porcelain skin. She giggled and used a napkin to wipe it away.
“I knew I made a mistake,” she said.
I put my fork down, clenched my fists, and waited to see if she had any further confessions.
“When I let him force me to make a choice I knew I made a mistake picking him. But I didn’t know how to fix it.” She wiped at the corner of her eyes with the dirty napkin. “I really missed you,” she said.
The tears that had threatened to fall won and trickled down my cheeks. “I’ve missed you, too.” It almost seemed too good to be true.
Megan paused for a moment and reached into her purse. “Phone is going off,” she said and started texting back furiously in response.
I found that rude. I found it familiar. I found it to be the other shoe finally dropping.
“I recently started seeing someone new,” Megan said while continuing to text. “I have to leave when we’re done to meet up with him. I can’t wait to tell you more about him,” she said and looked up from her phone long enough to throw me a smile.
Talk about familiarity. She would always have one foot with me, but the other out the door.
My meal started to lose its flavor. The evening had been a mistake. I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin and wished time to speed up and the bill to be paid.
When Megan did put the phone down I was already checked out. I did the polite thing and continued with small talk until the bill did come. She offered to pay and I let her.
I went home that night and opened the last journal I’d kept when Megan and I had been friends before. I relived the memories, the pain, the betrayal. It all felt fresh. Running into Megan had brought up too much of the past and I couldn’t fight it anymore.
*
When she texted a couple of days later I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. She wasn’t welcome back in my life. I might regret that decision in the future. I might fester over memories forever. But at least I wouldn’t let her hurt me again.
by Sabra Benedict
I’d forgotten what she looked like. Being ex-best friends can do that to you. What I remembered as dull brownish hair was actually a shocking bluish black. It’s amazing how hatred can taint your memories, ripping apart the good and piecing together the remnants of the bad.
I stopped short and my heel got caught in the crack of the sidewalk, causing me to trip over my own feet and land sprawled on the cement in front of her. I bit my tongue and my mouth filled with blood.
“Hi, Carrie,” she said with a wide smile as she helped peel me from the pavement. Her tone was light, friendly. Like she was happy to see me. Another shock.
“Megan,” I said. My distaste normally would’ve been hard to hide, but was overridden with embarrassment. Not only had I fallen in front of Megan, but as we were on Boylston Street in downtown Boston I had many witnesses to my never-ending clumsiness.
She reached forward to hug me and I froze, arms stuck to my sides. A hug? After everything she’d done to me? Abandoning me in a strange city? Always putting others before me? I didn’t want her touching me. I didn’t even want her breathing the same air as me. And, yet, I’d missed her.
She wasn’t taken aback by my repulsion at all.
“You look great,” she said.
I knew I did. I’d lost over seventy pounds since I’d last seen her six years ago. And, by the looks of it, she’d gained about that much. I couldn’t revel in her near-obesity because she was still gorgeous. That blue-black hair? It fell in big, luscious waves down her back. Although her ass was enormous her waist was miniscule. She had the epitome of an hourglass shape.
In the old days I’d had dyed-red hair, blue eyes, no butt, and amazing breasts. The only thing I hoped had changed was the hair. Megan and I had always been opposites. And when we’d walked down the street together all eyes had been on us. That I’d also missed.
“Thanks,” I said. What the hell else was I supposed to say? The last time I’d seen her she’d tried to beat me up—in the store she managed. I’d reported her to corporate (who did nothing) and never spoke to her again. Ah, the good old days.
“How’ve you been? How are your parents?” she asked.
I was grinding my teeth into the gums, trying to figure out a way to escape. I didn’t like my options. “Great,” I said. “Everything’s great.”
“Aww, awesome,” Megan said.
She was too much. I was reluctant to ask how her family was doing. Did she still have the same boy-friend? The last one had hated me. The last one had killed our friendship. I said nothing. Very little time passed before Megan filled the silence.
“My family’s good, too,” she said. “Winnie still lives at home, but she finally has a job. She’s working as a waitress.”
Winnie was Megan’s younger sister—by thirteen years. When we were teenagers Winnie attended the daycare at our high school. She had been adorable, looked like a mini-Megan, and threw the most entertaining tantrums. She would collapse to the ground faster than a fat lady without a parachute and flail her arms and legs around. I’d thought it was cute, while also being grateful that I was an only child. She should’ve gone into acting.
“That’s good,” I said. My knee was starting to ache from my fall, but at least my tongue had stopped bleeding.
“I’m not with Donny anymore.”
And there it was. The tiny bit of information I’d been dying to know.
“Really,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I believed her. He’d never been good enough for her anyway. I wondered how serious things got before Megan and he ended their relationship.
“We were engaged,” she said. It was as if we could still read each other’s minds.
How could she let it go so far? “What happened?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Megan chewed her lip—an old habit I guess she still couldn’t break. “He cheated on me,” she said.
I wished I was surprised. I almost felt bad that she had to go through such a thing. Almost.
“Wow,” I said and rubbed my knee. I was lucky not to have broken the skin.
“I’ve sworn off men for a while.”
I bit my tongue to keep from laughing and tasted fresh blood. Megan couldn’t be single. There was always something in the works, some guy friend who was infatuated with her and ready to jump in the sack. But, instead of laughing I nodded and said, “Me too.” Although my being single wasn’t really by choice. I just got dumped a lot.
Megan twirled her hair around her finger and smiled. I had forgotten about her little annoying habits.
“Where’re you headed?” she asked.
Yes—an out. I glanced at my watch and lo and behold I had someplace I needed to be—fast. “I’m off to an interview.” I was going to buy a coffee beforehand, but now I wouldn’t have time. Great.
“An interview for what?”
“Office manager at an advertising firm.”
“Sounds exciting,” she said. I could tell she meant it, even though another office job didn’t sound exciting to me. “Want to exchange numbers so we can catch up some more?”
I wasn’t sure. Did I want to let her back into my life? Was I prepared for the pain that might bring? I studied her face for signs of a change. She seemed genuinely happy to see me.
“Okay,” I said.
We each reached into our own bags and pulled out cell phones.
Megan’s smile grew and I was blinded by her bright white teeth. She happily punched my number into her phone and I hesitantly entered hers into mine.
“I’ll call you soon,” she said.
I doubted it. I wouldn’t sit by the phone and wait. But I might hope.
*
It had been three days since Megan and I had run into each other and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. When things had been good they’d been great, but when things went bad it’d been catastrophic. We’d always gotten through it, though—like sisters. Until the end.
Donny thought I was okay in the beginning. Before he really knew me. When I first moved to Boston from LA, after another failed relationship and to be near Megan who had relocated for a job, it was a week before my birthday. Since I didn’t know anyone else in the city Megan and Donny took me to a fancy restaurant for dinner. He went so far as to buy me a present by himself—which was carefully thought out. I’d always been obsessed with old Mickey Mouse memorabilia and he ordered me a stuffed animal off eBay from 1934. No one ever gave me anything like it before or since. For a few short months we got along great, aside from my constantly feeling as if Megan always devoted more of her time to Donny than to me. Three months after I moved to LA the honeymoon period ended and things got awkward—fast. I witnessed Donny treat Megan like shit and watched her bend over backwards one too many times. I flipped out. I went at him with blackout rage that would normally be reserved for the immediate family. He wasn’t pleased. He raged back. Megan was put in a rough spot. She was forced to choose between her best-friend and her boy-friend. She picked him, ending our friendship of eleven years.
The phone rang, causing me to nearly have an anxiety attack as I was yanked back to the present. Caller ID showed that it was Megan. My hands shook. I was opening a can of worms that could never be closed.
She was as cheerful on the phone as she’d been in person. We agreed to meet the next day, a Friday, at a pub downtown, which surprised me because she always seemed to have a sense of silent disapproval when it came to my drinking. I let her pick because I didn’t think it mattered where we went, as long as it wasn’t too intimate. I didn’t mind catching up with her, but I wanted it to be light, casual. The last thing I wanted was to be vulnerable to her, just so she could chip away at my soul again.
Like the time I was the one to try and rekindle our friendship. It had been about six months since our relationship shriveled up and died. A mutual friend who still lived in LA confessed that Megan admitted to missing me. I’d been surprised. She’d been pretty clear in her last phone call about hating me for causing trouble in her relationship with Donny—which only happened because I cared. But because I also missed her I thought that maybe there was hope of us becoming friends again.
I remembered the way Megan’s customer service smile turned to a look of pure hatred when she realized it was me who’d entered her store. My heart broke a little then, but I still tried to talk to her.
She didn’t want anything to do with me. I tried to make small talk, which only resulted in her holding her palm up in front of my face. By that point I was angry knowing that she had no real reason to be angry at me. I mocked her wanting to slap me. Not the best choice. She threatened to beat me up and I told her to go for it. She didn’t. She did the smart thing and went into the back—the stockroom. That was the last time I saw her before falling to my knees in front of her on Boylston Street.
I hoped things had changed. I hoped she had changed.
*
I had trouble picking out my clothes for my outing with Megan. I felt like I was getting ready for battle. I chose a little black dress and black boots—my signature ensemble. I looked amazing. I was amazing. If I told myself this enough times it might come true.
I took a bus downtown and arrived at the bar thirty minutes early. I was okay with that because it meant I could ease my jitters with a pre-game drink, although I wasn’t sure how Megan would feel about me being tipsy before she arrived. I didn’t care. I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea at the bar and stared at the door. Maybe she wouldn’t even show. Maybe she remembered how scary I was when I got angry and decided it wasn’t worth it. Maybe I should’ve decided it wasn’t worth it.
The place was empty. Being unemployed allowed me the luxury of sitting in a bar at 4pm. Megan was probably still running her own store with her own hours. I didn’t know how I felt about the bar, though. It was a bit more divey than I liked my bars. The few patrons there looked okay enough—no one seemed near-homeless. But it was small, maybe only ten or so tables and a long bar that spread across the length of the room. A little more intimate than I’d hoped for.
By the time Megan walked in I was buzzed and ready to flee. Her smile eased my doubts and I was able to breathe easier.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice was breathy, shallow, as if she’d been running. “Sorry I’m late.” She leaned in and gave me a hug. This time I let her. “Should we get a table? Or do you want to stay at the bar?”
“A table is good,” I said. I downed the rest of my drink and settled the bill.
We were seated at a booth by the window. The perfect table for people-watching—one of my favorite past times. Megan didn’t have the attention span for it.
“I’m starving,” she said.
I laughed. From what I could remember she was always hungry. “Okay,” I said. “What do you think you want?”
Megan was strumming her fingers on the table. “A bacon cheeseburger.”
I studied the salad section. I had no desire to be over two-hundred pounds again.
“What about you?” Megan asked.
“I’m gonna get a salad.” I was proud of myself, but Megan looked horrified.
“For real?”
“Yeah, for real,” I said and laughed.
The waitress came over and we placed our orders. We each ordered a beer in addition to our meals. Empty calories I’d try to ignore.
“How’d the interview go?” Megan asked after the waitress walked away.
“Pretty good. I should know in a couple of days.” It was weird to be sitting here with her, to be talking about everyday stuff. It had been too long.
“Awesome. What happened to the other job you had?”
I’d been an office manager at a graphic design firm when Megan and I’d last been friends. “I was laid-off about six months ago. They weren’t doing well and now the owner is acting as office manager.”
“Oh, man, that sucks.”
I shrugged. “It’s been okay. I’m living off unemployment right now.”
“Well, good that you were able to get that,” Megan said and smiled.
“Yeah. What about you? Still managing the cheese store?”
She made a face like she was sick. “Yes, unfortunately. I dream about cheese.”
We both laughed.
The waitress came back with our drinks and I was grateful to loosen up with some more alcohol. The beer was a little stale but it would do.
“Do you come to this place a lot?” I asked, trying to hide my distaste.
“No, not really. I’ve only been here a couple of times. Do you like it?”
“It’s so dead.” I commented. If I was going to leave the house I wanted to be somewhere that was bustling. I wasn’t surprised that I disagreed with Megan’s choice of venue. There were many nights we never ended up going out because we couldn’t agree on where to go.
“Well, it’s still early.” The smile had slipped from her face, to be replaced with a look I was more familiar with. Disappointment, dissatisfaction.
“I guess,” I said and sipped at my beer. I looked around and admired the artwork. There were dozens of paintings of the beach.
“I didn’t think you’d still be in Boston,” Megan said.
I put the beer down. “You thought I’d run back to LA?” Everyone had. Since Megan was the only one I knew in Boston my friends and family back home assumed I would immediately return.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I didn’t need to go back,” I said. I was proud that I’d survived on my own.
Neither of us said anything for a while.
I broke the silence by trying to make her feel awkward instead of me. “When did you and Donny break up?”
Megan started to twirl her hair. “A little over a year ago.”
My God. They’d stayed together five more years? Awful. “Wow. Did you get far in the wedding planning process?”
“Oh, yeah. I had a dress and veil, caterer, DJ, dance hall…” her voice trailed off.
“Wow. I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. She didn’t deserve all that, no matter how much animosity I might feel toward her.
The waitress arrived with our food then. As soon as she left we started eating. My salad was mediocre—some of the green vegetables were turning brown and the chicken was chewier than steak. Megan seemed pleased with her bloody burger.
“You know, I’m really sorry about what happened between us,” Megan said, somewhat out of the blue.
I nodded. She should be sorry. She’d been a terrible friend. My heart started to hurt.
“I just didn’t know what to do. Donny and I had just gotten back together after being broken up for a few months. You were drinking so much. I couldn’t handle it.”
My mouth was dry but I kept chewing. I could feel the tears pressing at the back of my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about this. I took a sip of my water to wash down the salad.
“Sometimes you drank so much you were belligerent,” she continued.
“One would think,” I said and placed my glass back down on the table, “that if you were really my friend, and I was that bad off, that you would’ve—”
“Stuck around?”
“Well, yes. If I needed help you should’ve helped me, rather than abandoning me.”
Megan nodded. “I know. I even sort of knew it then.”
She’d always been very stubborn. I was a bit taken aback that she was taking the blame so easily.
I tried to eat more salad while Megan gobbled down the rest of her burger. A little bloody juice dripped down her chin, contrasting greatly with her porcelain skin. She giggled and used a napkin to wipe it away.
“I knew I made a mistake,” she said.
I put my fork down, clenched my fists, and waited to see if she had any further confessions.
“When I let him force me to make a choice I knew I made a mistake picking him. But I didn’t know how to fix it.” She wiped at the corner of her eyes with the dirty napkin. “I really missed you,” she said.
The tears that had threatened to fall won and trickled down my cheeks. “I’ve missed you, too.” It almost seemed too good to be true.
Megan paused for a moment and reached into her purse. “Phone is going off,” she said and started texting back furiously in response.
I found that rude. I found it familiar. I found it to be the other shoe finally dropping.
“I recently started seeing someone new,” Megan said while continuing to text. “I have to leave when we’re done to meet up with him. I can’t wait to tell you more about him,” she said and looked up from her phone long enough to throw me a smile.
Talk about familiarity. She would always have one foot with me, but the other out the door.
My meal started to lose its flavor. The evening had been a mistake. I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin and wished time to speed up and the bill to be paid.
When Megan did put the phone down I was already checked out. I did the polite thing and continued with small talk until the bill did come. She offered to pay and I let her.
I went home that night and opened the last journal I’d kept when Megan and I had been friends before. I relived the memories, the pain, the betrayal. It all felt fresh. Running into Megan had brought up too much of the past and I couldn’t fight it anymore.
*
When she texted a couple of days later I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. She wasn’t welcome back in my life. I might regret that decision in the future. I might fester over memories forever. But at least I wouldn’t let her hurt me again.