Joan proposes a toast at our Saturday brunch. She sweeps a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder and raises her mimosa.
“To Kendall,” she says. “Our future physician, and one of the best damn women I know.”
I blink a few times. I raise my glass as my friends congratulate me.
I have a standing brunch date with my friends about once a month. It’s cold today so we’re dining indoors at a place in the city, though the sun shines and the air is dry. I can see the blue sky out the window next to us. My coffee drink is flavored with some kind of sweet caramel apple concoction. I’m wearing my favorite earrings and a new pair of tennis shoes, along with a new purple sweater I got yesterday, but none of it makes me feel any better.
My chestaches.I wake up in the middle of the night now with a pulsing sense of wrongness, only to remember what happened, and to chastise myself for being so pathetic.
Grant hasn’t called or texted either, not that I expected him to. He told me he was falling in love with me, and I made it clear I still can’t be with him, so who can blame him for staying away?
Or maybe he didn’t mean any of it. In my darkest moments, I wonder if any of it was real.
I fiddle with one of my earrings and return my focus to my friends. “Now I just need to find a couple hundred thousand dollars,” I say. “If anyone wants to help out with that.”
“How’s the scholarship hunt going?” Gwen dribbles a bit of syrup on her shirt as she takes a bite of her pancake.
“I think we need to get you a bib,” I tell her, and she grins at me. “But I’m getting there. I’ve found some specifically for students going back to school.”
Maria settles her napkin over her lap, as though seeing Gwen eat so messily makes her anxious. “I’m so happy for you,” she says. “I know you’ll figure it out.”
To my great embarrassment, tears build in my eyes. Damn it. I’d thought my tear ducts were empty. I’ve never cried in front of my friends, either.
“Kendall?” Joan raises up out of her chair. Her eyes are wide.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but tears stream down my cheeks. I cover my mouth to stifle my crying, but it only makes it worse.
Everyone is staring at me. Oh God.
“I think I need talk to you guys,” I say.
“Of course.” Joan lays a hand over mine, and I settle a bit. She’s so soothing. No wonder she’s a good nurse. I clutch at her.
I tell them the whole story. Everything about Grant, about Blaine, and my dad. About Grant’s parents. The whole sorry affair spills out of me in bursts.
Joan gets up to hug me. I cling to her like I’m a little kid as she murmurs calming words. When she sits back down, she has transitioned from her active listening face to her guidance face. She’s the group’s best advice-giver, and I hold my breath while I wait for her to speak.
“You’re stubborn sometimes, you know?” She smiles.
So we’re going with tough love, I see. I laugh. “You have no idea,” I say.
“I think I do,” Joan says. “But none of us would have judged you for what you did. Or whatever you decide to do now. Your former self doesn’t get to make all your decisions for you.”
I wipe another tear away. “My former self is screaming at me continuously, yelling ‘you’re in danger’ over and over.”
Gwen wipes a biscuit crumb off her shirt. “I cannotbelieveyou managed to keep all this secret. I mean this in the best way possible, but you are the least private person I’ve ever met.”
I chew on my lip. I did keep this from everyone. My shame has been overwhelming. “I did tell one of you.” I nod toward Maria, who gives me a little nod.
Gwen laughs and glances at Maria. “Apparently you’re our group vault.”
“I hated myself for getting involved with him,” I say.
Maria’s gaze softens on me.
“And now?” Joan folds her hands in her lap. “Does it still feel bad?”
I shake my head. “I made peace with it.” I toy with the hem of my sweater. “It hurts that it’s over, though. I can’t think about anything else. I can’t sleep. My body aches. It’s horrible.”
