Lost Along the Way (18 page)

“Every man for himself. And next time I ask you to bring something, you better not forget!”

“Fine, then! This is war!” Jane stuck both her hands in the flour and threw it at Meg, causing white powder to cover the kitchen counters, floors, and appliances. They'd turned Cara's kitchen into the PG version of
Scarface.

“What is going on in here?” Cara's mom asked as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She stared in bewilderment at her previously clean kitchen and three college-aged women in the midst of a flour fight more appropriate for twelve-year-olds. “I thought you were going to bake brownies!”

“We were. And then . . . we weren't,” Jane said, shrugging her shoulders but still smiling.

“I'm so sorry,” Meg said, already on her hands and knees trying to clean flour off the floor with a kitchen sponge. All it did was turn the powder to paste. It was going to take forever to get this place clean. “We're so sorry. I promise I will clean the entire kitchen.”

“In our defense, this seemed like a good idea a few minutes ago,” Jane said with a smile, hoping Cara's mom would appreciate
that while they'd wrecked her house, they'd made her daughter laugh.

“I hope you know how to work the vacuum as well as you know how to work the oven,” she said to Meg, coughing from flour she'd accidentally inhaled.

“Jane started it!” Meg cried, always the obedient rule follower. Meg knew that she didn't need to tell Cara's mom that Jane was the one who spearheaded the destruction of her kitchen. Any time something went wrong, people assumed Jane was the ringleader, which would really bug her if they weren't right.

“Hey!” Jane said, momentarily offended. “Okay, fine. I did, actually. But she deserved it.”

“Your mom was so mad,” Meg remembered. “We tried to do something nice and I think it took her months to get all the flour out of the grout in her kitchen tiles.”

“I think she was happy that I was happy, to be honest. She could never stay mad at you guys anyway. It was nice of you to come help take care of me. It gave her a break, you know?”

“I was happy to do it then, and I'm happy to do it now. And anyway, it's my job to cook. Don't forget that. I'll post this recipe on the blog later this morning.”

Cara and Jane smiled but said nothing. Instead, Jane flung flour in Meg's direction.

“For old time's sake,” she said.

“I was in a lot of pain but I had a good time,” Cara said.

“You were so loopy I'm surprised you remember it.”

“I remember the brownies.” Cara walked over and stuck her hand in the flour and flicked a little at Jane. “That was for attacking an invalid. I've been waiting almost twenty years to do that.”

“I had no idea you were holding a grudge. This explains a lot. It all started with the flour.”

Cara smiled. “Maybe it did!”

“Are we even now?” Jane asked, dusting flour off her hairline.

“Even.”

“Good.”

“Now that I think about it, I was so upset after I hurt my knee. Not just because of the accident, which sucked in a big way, but because I was worried about what Reed would think of me. He was my boyfriend. He should've cared that I was hurt and that's it. Why was I worried about how I would look to his family?”

“I thought it was a little weird at the time,” Meg admitted.

“So did I. But I thought it was the drugs talking,” Jane added. “Besides, we were kids. We worried about stupid things.”

“Yeah, but I already wasn't acting like myself, you know? He was already making me feel insecure.”

“Probably because he felt inadequate around you. Not to play psychiatrist, but just guessing.”

“I think he was trying to undermine me. He's always trying to undermine me. Still. I wish I'd seen it then.”

“You'll drive yourself crazy pinpointing moments where you could've done something differently. They don't matter. What matters is that you did something now. The past is the past, and there's not a person in this room who would do things over the same way if given the option,” Jane said forcefully.

“I guess that's true,” Cara admitted.

“So, what do you guys want to do today?” Meg asked, the potentially awkward moment thankfully passing. “Besides start a flour fight in my kitchen.”

“Well, if you're going to ruin all of our fun, I'm up for doing
something outside. It looks really nice out,” Jane said. “I rarely get fresh air anymore since I've been afraid to leave my apartment. Do you think we could go for a walk or something?”

“Why don't we go down to the beach? I have a few travel mugs; we can bring our coffee with us,” Meg answered.

“I'd like that. I haven't been to the beach in ages,” Jane said.

“It hasn't changed much,” Meg assured her.

Jane smiled. “The best things in life never do.”

T
hey ate their muffins, filled their travel mugs, and drove the two miles to the beach with the windows down and the radio up. Jane stuck her arm out the window and spread her fingers wide, feeling the wind blow against her hand. In the summer, the parking lot would be full by nine
A.M.,
but since it was October it was completely empty. They rolled up their pant legs, kicked off their shoes, and wandered down the sand toward the water. Meg adjusted her sunglasses and stared at the surfers in their wetsuits—the only people crazy enough to swim this time of year—and an elderly couple holding hands as they strolled toward them. Meg felt her insides begin to ache. She would've bet every dollar she had that would've been her and Steve one day—older, kids grown and out of the house, retired at the beach, just happy to have each other for company. Instead she had two crazy ladies from elementary school using her for shelter as they hid from their own lives. But she'd take it. It was certainly better than nothing.

“God, it's really beautiful out here. Do you come down here a lot, Meg?” Cara asked.

“I do, actually. It's tranquil. I come here when I need time to think,” Meg said, meaning she came here daily, even when it was cold or raining. She found there was something therapeutic about having the beach all to herself in bad weather.

“Why do you need to come here for that? You live alone. You can think all day at your house, can't you?” Jane asked, blunt as ever.

“I think she likes the change of scene and the sound of the waves and the fresh air. What's the point of being out here if you can't enjoy it?” Cara countered.

“Exactly,” Meg said. “I can't smell the ocean from the house.”

They continued to stroll down the beach, the bluffs and the dunes punctuating the vast sky and the sounds of seagulls and crashing waves the only discernible noises for miles. As they walked, Meg caught sight of a man sitting on the sand a hundred yards in front of them reading a newspaper. His baseball hat was pulled low over his eyes, but the large Labrador retriever lying quietly next to him was a sure sign that it was Nick, her only friend in Montauk. She waved as she approached and veered over to where he was sitting.

“Good morning!” Meg said. “How are you?”

“Hey!” he said. He folded his newspaper and tucked it under his backpack. “I thought that was you, but I wasn't sure. You don't usually come down here with an entourage.” He stood and brushed his hands against his jeans, causing grains of sand to scatter in every direction. He hugged Meg and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

“These are old friends of mine,” Meg said. “This is Cara and Jane. We grew up together. They came out here yesterday to spend a few days with me. I figured I'd show them why fall is the best time of year out here.”

“Nice to meet you, I'm Nick,” he said. He shook both their hands, and Jane bent over to pet his dog behind the ears. “You guys grew up together, huh? That's great. I don't know too many people who are still tight with their childhood friends. It's really cool, actually.”

Meg smiled, because sometimes it was better to just smile and play along than to tell the actual truth.

“We like to think so,” Jane said. She left the dog alone and slyly wiped drool off her hand.

“Do you live out here all year?” Cara asked.

“I do. I'm a Realtor. I have listings mostly in Montauk, but a few in Amagansett also. It's been slow for a while, obviously, but things are picking back up a bit, which is great. My buddy Sebastian and I were getting bored out here with no buyers poking around. Hopefully the market has turned for the long term. Fingers crossed,” he said, Sebastian wagging his tail at the mention of his name.

“I'm a Realtor, too,” Cara said. “I feel the exact same way. I really love selling a family a new home. It's like I'm able to play a small part in creating a lot of happy memories for them. It's a sappy way of looking at it, I guess.”

“I don't think it's sappy at all. Except for when I have spoiled clients who have no grip on reality or what their money can buy them. I'd like to drown those people. Fortunately, I haven't had to deal with too many of them as of late. What do you do, Jane?” he asked.

“Oh, I'm a housewife, I guess,” Jane said. It occurred to Meg that no one had probably asked Jane that in forever, and she seemed caught off guard by the question.

“Well, it's nice to meet both of you. Any friend of Meg's is a friend of mine. This girl makes a mean muffin. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time out here.”

Suddenly Meg had an idea. This was perfect. She'd been anxious all morning about how the three of them were going to stay
at her house for another night without fighting again. Meg didn't want to spend the night screaming at them, or worse, throwing them out of her house a second time. Nick would keep them all on their best behavior, give them neutral territory to talk about, and force them to stay away from painful topics that would erupt into an argument. “Nick, are you busy later?” she asked.

“No, not really. I was going to maybe do some surfing this afternoon, and then head over to the Dock for dinner. I'm a sucker for the clams there.”

“Why don't you join us for dinner at my place?”

“Really?” Nick asked.

“Really?” Cara and Jane answered simultaneously.

“Why not?” Meg said. “I was going to go down to the fish market and get something for dinner, and Jane bought some wine . . .”

“Actually, we drank all of it last night.”

“And we're going to buy some more wine,” Meg corrected herself.

“Sounds good to me,” Jane said with a shrug.

“It won't be anything fancy, and you're more than welcome to bring Sebastian, of course. What do you say? We'd like the company.”

“Are you sure I won't be intruding?” Nick asked, though Meg could tell he'd love to join them.

“Absolutely not,” Cara said. “It'd be nice to get to know you better. Besides, like you said, any friend of Meg's is a friend of ours.”

“Great! We'll be there. I'll bring some wine, too, Jane. So don't buy too much.”

“No such thing!” Jane replied. She was trying to sound breezy,
but Meg thought she sounded more like a raging alcoholic. When she thought about it, and she hadn't until just now, Jane had basically had a glass in her hand since she showed up, and she'd popped two pills with her morning coffee.
Great,
Meg thought. She was probably going to end up dragged into an episode of
D-List Celebrity Rehab
before the week was over.

Every group of kids growing up had a wild child: the one who always pushed the envelope, defied authority, and seemed to be present whenever something went wrong. Jane's parents had tried to control her, but she'd somehow managed to find ways around their rules. She'd throw parties in her basement whenever they were away, change out of her clothes into something short or skin-tight in her backyard before going to parties, and sneak out of her house after her curfew on a regular basis. It was Jane who got Meg to smoke her first (and last) cigarette in ninth grade, Jane who tried to convince her (unsuccessfully, thank God) that she should get a dolphin tattoo on her ankle junior year, and Jane who forged Meg's doctor's notes to get her out of class so they could go shopping when she had a date with a cute senior and wanted a new sweater to wear. Meg's parents had always thought that Jane was a bad influence, that Meg was just a timid mouse following the Pied Piper. They were thankful for Cara, for balancing out the group. Meg never thought this was true, and loved that Jane kept her from being boring and bookish. Now, as an adult, she realized that Jane might not have grown out of that reckless teenage laissez-faire attitude. She was such a wonderful person and had such a big heart, but Jane had always been her own worst enemy. It was becoming more and more evident that she still was.

“Great then, say seven o'clock?” Meg asked.

“See you then! Enjoy the rest of the day, ladies. I'm going to
take Sebastian home and grab my board. Looking forward to it! Thanks a lot, Meg.”

“It's my pleasure,” Meg said with a wave.

Nick called the dog, and they headed toward the parking lot as the girls continued down the beach. Meg breathed a sigh of relief. Running into him had been a fantastic twist of fate. Nick somehow always made her feel at ease.

“He's cute! Too bad none of us are single,” Cara joked. “There was a time we would've fought over him.”

“I am!” Jane said.

“No. Your husband is incarcerated, but he's still your husband,” Cara said.

“Are you seeing him?” Jane asked Meg, which horrified her. How could Jane possibly think she'd be seeing someone behind Steve's back?

“Of course not! Why would you ever ask me that?”

“Don't get offended! I know how much you love Steve, so I figured he must be just a friend, but since I myself have never had a male friend I wasn't interested in sleeping with, I figured I should at least ask.”

“We're just friends, that's all.”

“Okay, fine. Cara, you should go for him. Maybe a little fling with a nice guy with a cool dog and a great butt is exactly what you need,” Jane said.

“I hate to burst both of your bubbles, but he's gay,” Meg said with a laugh.

“I should've known,” Jane said. “He was too good-looking to be straight. Oh well. Cara, don't worry. We'll find you someone else to have an affair with while we're out here. Maybe we should go hang out at a sports bar or something!”

“I'm not even going to justify that with a response. I still can't even believe I'm here. I'm going to have to call Reed at some point. What if he calls the police and reports me missing?”

“You wrote a note. You aren't missing. You left him. They're not the same thing. And it's only been twenty-four hours. No offense, but I hardly think Reed is going to go into panic mode and call the cops because you didn't come home for dinner one night.”

“Still. I know he's freaking out most about what people will think if they find out I left him. He's going to be so pissed off. We're supposed to go to a birthday party next weekend and if I don't go with him he'll have a conniption.”

“He's always pissed off! You sleep in separate bedrooms anyway. What's the difference if you're there or not?” Jane asked, as if she was mildly irritated by talking about what else might make Reed angry. “It's a beautiful day at the beach, and we've been enjoying the walk. Let's not talk about him. I'm declaring this beach a Reed-free zone for the duration of our stay out here.”

“Wait. You sleep in separate bedrooms?” Meg asked.

“Thanks, Jane,” Cara said.

“I think it's time we stop keeping secrets from each other. You're staying at her house. She deserves to know what you're hiding from.”

“Yes. I sleep in the guest room.”

“How'd he get the master anyway?” Jane asked.

Cara flinched. “He said my name wasn't on the deed to the house, so I'm not the master of anything.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Meg said.

“He is such an asshole!” Jane yelled. “I didn't think I could hate this guy any more than I already do, but I was wrong. I want to kill him. I swear to God, I think I could.”

“It sounds like maybe a few days away isn't the worst idea. Stop worrying about him, and let's worry about you,” Meg suggested, trying to calm Cara and ignore Jane's mini meltdown.

“That's good advice. You know, when Doug made me get these new boobs, I didn't really want them. I mean, the old ones weren't anything great, but they were fine. Then I thought, you know how many women in Manhattan would love for their husbands to spring for a little maintenance now and then? Every woman I hung out with had something nipped or tucked or sucked or augmented, so really, what was the big deal? I figured that I should consider myself lucky that we could afford to buy these things. So I went along with it. Now he's gone, and I'm stuck looking like I'm hiding cantaloupes under my sweater. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

“I can't imagine it's comfortable!” Meg laughed. “Can you sleep on your stomach without worrying that you're going to pop them?”

“Feel them,” Jane ordered, pulling her sweater up to expose her overstuffed bra. “You need to see what this is like. They're awful. I can't tell you how much I hate them.”

“Jane, put your shirt down! Someone will see you!” Meg squealed, the same way she always had when Jane did something that shocked or embarrassed her.

“Relax! We're at the beach. Pretend it's a bikini top,” Jane said.

“You wear purple lace bikini tops?” Meg asked. “Actually, don't answer that. I don't even want to know.”

“Come on, just feel them.”

“I don't want to feel them,” Meg insisted, even though now she kind of did.

“Seriously, I want you to. Feel them or I'm going to take off my
sweater. You think it'll hurt or something? You could squeeze them into oblivion and I wouldn't even notice. I have no feeling in these things whatsoever. I'm terrified I'm going to pop one in my sleep and die from silicone poisoning without even knowing it. That's not a good way to live, let me tell you. Or die, now that I think about it.” Cara and Meg started to giggle, and then the giggling grew to uninhibited, gasping-for-air laughing. “Fine. Laugh away. If I die in my sleep tonight you guys will feel bad about this. Know that.”

Meg reached over and grabbed Jane's right boob, squeezing it hard, but it didn't give at all. Jane wasn't kidding. It was the most unnatural thing she'd ever felt in her life. “Whoa. He actually liked this?” Meg asked, so in awe at the weight of it that she reached out with her other hand and fully felt up Jane for anyone to see.