I asked her what she needed, and she told me where to meet her. I don’t know why Henry wanted to get the ring from her in person, but I wasn’t going to say anything. I learned a long time ago not to voice my opinion when it came to Henry.
As soon as the bell rang, I ran to the train. It’s a good thing I did, because Natalie needed me. Right now she’s curled into me, her hair falling down her back and snot smeared on my blue sweater. She hates crying in public. My back is to the rest of the place, shielding her. The scent of strong coffee and sweet syrup makes my mouth water, but Natalie’s not about to let me go. Suppressed sobs shake her shoulders, and I feel the tremble in my chest.
Her heart is breaking. It’s been breaking for a long time, but it’s the finality that’s getting her now. She didn’t imagine this for herself. She wanted forever. Happily ever after wasn’t an abstract concept. If I didn’t already know this for certain, I’d only have to pick a book off her shelf and read the last twenty pages. The characters in her books always fall in love.
“Nat,” I whisper down into her hair. She has a cowlick at the crown, and I learned this years ago, the first time I held her hair while she vomited up strawberry Boone’s Farm. “Do you want to go somewhere and get a drink?”
She lifts her chin and looks up at me, swipes a hand under her nose, and nods.
“Let’s go.”
She grabs her purse and lifts the strap over her head, positioning the bag on her hip.
I pull napkins from the dispenser and hand them to her. “You need to wipe your face.”
She smiles and leans over, pretending to wipe her snotty nose on my sleeve. Shoving the napkin into her hand, I keep one and attempt to clean up the front of my sweater.
“Sorry.” Natalie frowns apologetically.
“Don’t worry. It’s not the first time.” Turning, I start for the exit. She follows. Amid the noise of conversation, I hear thetap tap tapof her heels.
“You threw up on my feet once.” Her voice floats into my ears and I cringe. It’s not my favorite memory.
“What do I have to do to erase that from your memory?” Pulling the brass door handle, I prop open the door with a foot and let Natalie walk through first.
“I’ll never forget it. It was the night you said you loved me.” She tucks her hands inside the back pockets of her jeans and peers at me, her head tipped to one side.
“Friend-love,” I clarify. I don’t do love. Never have. It’s better suited for people who are not like me. People like Natalie.
She rolls her eyes. “Well, duh.”
“Come on.” I start down the crowded sidewalk. Natalie is in step beside me. “I want a beer. The dark kind you can almost chew.”
“Gross,” Natalie says, wrinkling her nose.
“You know what I mean.”
There’s a beer garden a few blocks away. We get there, settle into our seats, and Natalie orders a light beer with some kind of fruit in its name.
“So, you’re divorced, huh?” I sit back and cross an ankle over the opposite knee.
Natalie scowls.
“I don’t know what else to say,” I tell her. It’s the truth. What does a person say to their best friend right after they’ve signed their divorce papers?
“I guess so,” Natalie says slowly. Even more slowly, she says, “I am divorced. I’m divorced. I’m twenty-eight, and I’m divorced. I married my college sweetheart, and now we’re divorced.” Her voice is thick by the time she reaches the end of her sentence.
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
“You don’t have anything to say?” Her words are a challenge. I can’t blame her. We both know I’ve never been Henry’s biggest fan.
I shake my head and nod my thanks at our server when she sets down our beers.
“Don’t go quiet on me now, Costa. I know you have a mouthful of words waiting to tumble out.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this.” Sipping my beer, I watch her. She surveys me with shrewd eyes, knowing that I’m holding back.
What I want to say is something along the lines ofI knew it would come to this. Of course I knew. Henry Shay was one of my college roommates. He’s not a bad person, and he wasn’t back then either. They just weren’t right together, no matter how hard Natalie tried. They seemed like they should be right for each other. He played football, she was on the dance team. On every surface, in ways only eyes can see, they looked like a match made in heaven. They fit together. But underneath, geometry doesn’t matter. Below the surface is where it gets messy.
