Page 60 of Something Borrowed

Vic stared at Madeline. “You are . . . unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Sorry, that wasn’t an insult, just an observation.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“She does.”

Come to think of it, Vic was pretty sure she’d already told Madeline that herself more than once.

Vic shook her head again—something she was doing so often during this conversation that she was starting to feel like a bobblehead. She couldn’t believe what she was going to say next, but hey, she had a captive audience. Besides, they were the ones who’d opened—as Madeline said—this whole can of worms.

“Okay, okay, as you guessed, I do like Cal,” she confessed, giving Madeline a pointed look, then swinging her gaze to Gwen. “He is lovely, and for all of one evening I thought about pursuing him.” She gave them a brief recap of her crazy-person night and the following equally weirdo texts.

“So even if he was still, um, romantically interested, and I’m sure after all that he’s not—my reasons for stopping it before it started haven’t changed. If anything, well—” Vic motioned expansively with both hands as if to present their current conversation as evidence. “You see how I am. How dysregulated. How nuts. How many times have I flown off the handle just with you personally, Madeline?”

Madeline shrugged. “I think you’re harder on yourself than you deserve—and you’re definitely starting to modulate yourself better.”

Vic sighed. Madeline was impossible! “Maybe, maybe not—but there’s also, though you both seem intent on ignoring it, my compulsive stealing. My inability to have a decent relationship, like I’ve mentioned before—and not just with men. With my mother. With my own kid . . . I’m not just a walking red flag. I’m a whole parade.”

Gwen giggled—then looked horrified and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not funny. How you’re feeling, I mean. Just I liked your red flag parade image.”

“Yeah,” Madeline said seriously. “If you wanted to do some little cartoons or paintings around that theme, I’m sure we could sell them.”

Vic snort-laughed despite herself. Then was shocked when, even though distraught, her brain flashed the cutest little image at her. “Okay, weird—I might come up with something there.”

“Goodie!” Madeline clapped her hands once. “But back to your dilemma.”

“My dilemma?”

“Yes, like you and I talked about before. You’re going through a lot. Growing a lot.”

“Mmhm?” Vic eyed Madeline slightly suspiciously.

“And clearly this Brent jerk hurt you deeply, so if you need time to heal and figure things out, that is, of course, fine and healthy.”

Gwen nodded. “And at the same time . . . if it’s just insecurity or worry that you’re not healed enough for a relationship, well . . . isn’t all of life one long journey of growth and healing? We never arrive—or not in my experience anyway.”

Madeline nodded in agreement. “We can’t put off living until some magic, perfectly healed time. It doesn’t exist. Some of us are always going to have scars. It’s just a matter of finding someone who will be tender with ours—and doing the harder job of being tender with ourselves.”

Vic looked at Madeline, then at Gwen. These two women with their gorgeous, bright eyes—eyes filled with excitement and kindness—and their lovely faces, touched by time, laughter, and wisdom won in hard times.

She sniffled again. “It’s still just hard for me to believe . . . I look at you guys and spend time with you guys, and I do feel like we’re friends. Actual friends. Even though I’m still 90% shitshow.” She blinked, then said, feeling so shy it hurt to squeeze the words out. “Are we . . . friends, that is?”

You are such a child, Devil said, but the snide comment hardly registered because Madeline laughed. “Yes, we are—and phew! I’m so relieved you’re finally getting it through your thick head.”

But Gwen patted Vic’s hand softly and didn’t joke. “We definitely are. And you forget, I’ve known you since we were kids. We’re not just friends. We’re old friends.”

Madeline’s expression grew serious too. “And I sincerely hope you and I will one day be old friends as well. We’ll be quite the trio.” She got up and started gathering their plates.

“One last thing before we head out, Vic . . .”

“Yeah?

“90% is a definite improvement. Last time you bellyached about this, you claimed to be a solid 99%.”

Chapter 29

The house was quiet when Vic got home. “Hello, Mom? I’m home.” No answer.

She went from room to room, flicking on Christmas lights and making a mental note to turn them on before she left from now on, so Audra could enjoy them throughout the day—or not enjoy them, her choice. No sign of Audra. At lunchtime, she’d been fine, though, so she wasn’t worried exactly. But she also wasn’t exactly not worried.