He squeezes in closer, and kisses my ear softly. “How ‘bout after lunch…”
A playful smile slowly traces my lips. He doesn’t need to say more. I know exactly what he’s hinting at. “We’ll see,” I say in a flirty voice. “If you’re a good boy, and eat all your lunch.”
This is my life. My perfect life. What more could I ask for?
* * *
Maeve gives me a tight hug. “How have you been?”
“Great,” I reply as we both settle at our usual table, the one by the cozy fireplace. “What’s new with you?” I ask as I wrap my fall jacket around the back of my chair.
An excited grin slowly curves her lips. I study her keenly with interest. She seems excited… happy. “What’s up?”
She presses a gloved finger against her chin, a twinkle in her eye. “I can’t tell you yet,” she says with a small pout. “We need to wait for Kayla and Corrie.”
My curiosity is officially piqued. I hate when people do this to me. I pout like a spoiled little girl. “Well, let’s get our coffee while we wait for them,” I suggest. This could take a while, since Corrie is often late. She usually strides in, dressed to the nines, a new pair of boots or shoes on, always fashionably late, of course. She always apologizes profusely, and it’s okay because we’ve come to expect it. That’s just Corrie.
The doorbell clangs as Kayla swoops in, full of life. She brightens up a space as soon as she enters it, with her colorful clothes and magnetic smile. “Hey, girls.”
The barista takes our orders, a chai latte for me, a cappuccino for Maeve, and a ginger lemon tea for Kayla.
We settle back to our table, and Kayla takes off her jacket. “What’s new?”
I sit up straight. “Well, Maeve’s got some news but she refuses to spill until we’re all here.”
Kayla rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Well, that could take a while.”
We all laugh and reach into our satchels and bags for our notebooks and pens. Although Maeve, Kayla and Corrie were complete strangers a few years ago, they’ve all become best friends.
I still remember the day when I first saw the small blurb in our local paper — ‘A small journaling club looking for new members.’As a long time journal keeper, I thought it’d be right up my alley.
I was so nervous when I first stepped into the quaint bookshop café in our old historic downtown. I’d never actually been in it, and that was quite a shame, because the place is just awesome. Rows of stacked books line the walls, and old antique tables and chairs dot the worn wood floors. A gorgeous fireplace centers the space, and a collection of eclectic teapots and coffee mugs decorate the walls and the bar, where they serve sandwiches, treats and drinks.
It seems so long ago now. Kayla welcomed me with open arms and a friendly smile. Maeve and Corrie showed up not long after. Throughout the years, there have been many new faces who’ve come and gone, but the four of us, we’ve always been a constant. The intimate nature of the club has led us to become fast friends — we know everything about each other. We don’t always share everything, just the stuff we’re comfortable with. I know all about the ups and downs of Maeve’s relationship with Peter, Kayla’s crazy dating stories, and Corrie’s issues with fertility, and recent separation.
The barista serves us our drinks just as Corrie finally makes an appearance. A little flustered, she bounces quietly over to us, as if she’s walking on clouds. Today’s outfit is fabulous; a vintage looking blue leather jacket with a silver fur color and tall grey suede boots. “The usual for me,” she says to the barista, a smile as wide as the day is long. “Sorry, I’m late again. Sadie was taking her sweet time again doing her business this morning.”
I laugh a little. Sadie is one of her adorable Pomeranians. She’s a bit of a diva, like her owner. “Thank god you’re here,” I tell her. “Maeve has some news and she’s been waiting for everyone to be here.”
We all turn to Maeve in unison, eager as puppies staring up at a treat.
Without a word, Maeve stretches her hand out to us. The diamond on her finger is striking; a square cut set on classic white gold.
“He finally asked you,” Corrie exclaims. “I’m so happy for you!”
Maeve is beaming. “It’s about time… I know.” She contemplates the ring on her finger. “I thought he’d never ask.”
Truth be told, we were all starting to wonder. Maeve’s been with Peter for seven years now, since they were both twenty — they’re college sweethearts. I’m so happy for her. Maeve is a good person. Among my small group of friends, she’s the one who is most like me. “Did you buy any wedding magazines yet?” I ask.
She reaches into her satchel. “Did I?” she says, and whips out three magazines.
“Wow,” Kayla exclaims. “That dress is gorgeous.”
Needless to say, there’s not a lot of journal entry sharing today. None at all, in fact. The journal entry scribbled in my notebook about loneliness will have to wait until next time. Sometimes our meetings are like that — sometimes we forget to talk about our journaling, all together. We just yap about our lives. We call ourselves a ‘journaling club’, but what we really are is a ‘friends club.’
“Well, I’ve got to run,” Kayla says. “I’ve got a class in thirty minutes.”
“Yeah, my shift starts in an hour,” Maeve adds. They both work on Saturdays. Maeve is a manager at a children’s clothing store, and Kayla is a yoga instructor and massage therapist. Corrie is at home like me, working on a small jewelry business. We actually have a lot in common, Corrie and I. She worked as a paralegal, and I worked as a Marketing Manager. We’ve both left our jobs to pursue our artistic passions, and raise children. Except for her, the children haven’t come yet. Her two Pomeranians are her babies.
