She laughs. “And I loveyoufor saying that.”
We look at each other and sigh heavily, in perfect sync, and my mood takes a more serious turn. I’m not afraid to let it show, because Becky and I have always been open and honest with each other.
“I know we haven’t seen each other much over the past few years,” I say. “I was in Toronto, and you were here, and ever since I came back, I’ve been ... well, you know ... overwhelmed, trying to get the business going. But I just want you to know how important you are to me. You’ve been my rock ever since ...” I lower my gaze to my lap because I can’t say it.
“I understand.” She looks toward the boats in the harbor. “We both went through hell together. But your hell was especially terrible, having been there and gone through it.” She pauses and looks at me. “You’re the only person, besides my parents, who really understands the weight of it all.”
I nod, and my drink arrives in a fancy martini glass. I run my thumb and forefinger up and down the stem. “Do you ever talk to Mark about it?”
“I have,” Becky replies. “And he’s been wonderful. Very compassionate. But he never knew Jacob, so ...”
“It’s not something anyone can really share.”
She reaches for her wine, and I raise my glass.
“To Jacob,” she says in a somber tone. “And to us.”
“May we all find happiness,” I say.
It’s only when I take the first sip that I realize I’ve included Jacob in my toast, as if we are, all three of us, still sitting together, on the Halifax Waterfront, looking forward to the unknown trajectory of our lives.
After a delicious dinner, which has included two more cosmos for me and two glasses of chardonnay for Becky, we find ourselves at the casino bar, where drinks are cheap. I’ve spent the evening venting about a client who can’t make up her mind about modern rustic or a throwback to art deco, and Becky has opened up about Mark’s obsession withStar Warsparaphernalia, predominantly Chewbacca but other characters as well from the original three films. Evidently, he has a small room in his basement with storage shelves and limited sunlight where he stores his dolls, though his preferred term isaction figures. Becky is convinced he’s in possession of a small fortune down there and that he should get everything insured.
Against our better judgment, Becky and I order a couple of dirty martinis, but we swear that these will be our last drinks of the night before we head home.
As the bartender slides the glasses toward us, Becky swivels on her stool, faces me, and raises her glass. “If the ocean was beer and I was a duck, I would swim to the bottom and drink myself up. But the ocean’s not beer, and I’m not a duck, so let’s drink these martinis and get totally messed up.”
I tip my head back and laugh, but I reach my hand out before she takes a sip. “Wait, wait! I’ve got one.” I raise my glass. “Pain makes you stronger. Tears make you braver. Heartbreak makes you wiser. And vodka makes you not remember any of that crap.”
Becky laughs hysterically. “I love it! Bottoms up.”
We sip our drinks, and then I slide off the barstool to hug her. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” I have the uneasy feeling I might be slurring my words. “We’ll be blood sisters forever. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she coos, and we hug cozily, swaying back and forth until her cell phone rings. She staggers back a little and rifles through her purse. “It must be Mark.” She finds her phone and flips it open. “Hello? Hey, baby! You must be psychic. We just finished our drinks.” She winks at me and nods. “Yes, we had a good time.” She pauses. “We’re at the casino bar. Okay. Sure. Yes, now’s a good time to come. We’ll meet you out front. Bye. I love you!” She snaps her phone shut and gives me a goofy smile. “He’s the best.”
“I’m so glad you’re happy,” I say drunkenly, fighting an urge to cry tears of joy, or maybe not joy.
She considers this, then grabs hold of my forearms and looks me straight in the eye. I find it hard to focus.
“Butyouneed to be happy too!” she cries. “You need to love somebody again.”
“Idolove somebody,” I reply. “I loveyou.”
She smacks her forehead with her hand. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re so awesome. You’re my hero every day. But seriously ... I don’t want you to end up alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I explain. “I have Scooter, and my business, which Ilove. You have no idea, Becky. I’m serious. I want to marry it!”
She steps back and laughs. “You can’t marry your business.”
“Why not? We’re perfect for each other. My business doesn’t snore, and it pays all the bills.”
I’m vaguely aware of a man on the barstool behind me. It’s not until he rests his hand on my hip that I take notice, and my body clenches instantly with anger.
I turn around and take in his shaved head and pale, sweaty, pockmarked face. He’s a big man, at least six feet tall, and thick around the middle.
“Ladies,” he says. “You look like you’re having a good time. Can I order us a fresh round?”
Suddenly, I feel completely sober, even though I’m not. “No thanks. We’re just leaving.”
