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Jenna pulled into her driveway to find her childhood, best friend Randi Freed-Stouffer hauling enough clothes from the back of her minivan to last a month.
“Randi!” Jenna screamed, rushing to embrace her friend. “What are you doing here?” She pushed her an arm’s length back, as concern momentarily replaced her delight. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine, everything’s fine…with me. I came here for you.”
“It’s under control.”
“Hmm.” Randi huffed before turning to sweep Janie into her arms. “There’s my girl.” Hugging tightly, she swung her in a circle. “Be a pal and bring that bag in for your old auntie. Careful, it’s heavy.”
Janie rolled her eyes and scrunched her nose. “It’s got wheels.”
As the child trundled the bag to the door, Randi turned to Jenna and crossed her arms like a sentry. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“You know very well, well what.”
The two friends were so close they spoke in a personal code, one in which the topic of conversation never needed to be referenced by name.”
“Why, Jen, why did you…”
“I didn’t. He did.”
“But you did it back, and…”
“Oh, for God’s sake, it was a kiss, one lousy kiss.”
Randi shook her head. “A kiss you babbled on about for two hours on the phone last night.”
Reaching down, Jenna lifted a small carryon. “It was late and I had some wine at dinner. You know how I get.” She opened and closed her empty hand like a shadow puppet. “I ramble. It’s no big deal.”
“The man who broke your heart just barged back into your life. It is a very big deal. And FYI, wine doesn’t make you ramble. It makes you curse like a sailor.”
In the guest room, Randi dumped her things onto the bed. Jenna wondered by the amount of clothing going into the closet and dresser if her friend ever intended to leave.
“My mom will be watching the kids during the day. She’s usually at my house telling me how to raise them anyway, so she’ll be right at home. She’ll probably redecorate while I’m gone.”
Once Randi was settled in, the two friends spent the rest of the day doing the usual—talking about their children, trolling social media to look at pictures, and catching up on hometown gossip.
“Annabelle Walker lives here? And she’s fat! There is a God,” Randi said.
“She’s nice, not like the Annabelle we knew. And by the way, I said she was heavier than in high school. Fat is offensive.”
“Jesus Christ! Eric LaineandAnnabelle Walker?” Randi stabbed the end key on Jenna’s laptop to close out the Pinehill High, 1999, Good-bye 20th Century page. “I didn’t get here a minute too soon.”
****
The next morning, dragging tail from too many glasses of wine and too many lectures from Randi, Jenna crept into the kitchen. At the stove her friend was mixing pancake batter and humming. “You’re such a lightweight,” she said as Jenna plopped into a chair.
“It’s barelylightout.”
“I have two kids under the age of five. Not getting up before six is like sleeping in.”
Tired and grouchy, Jenna shuffled to the coffee maker. Two kisses, two nights of drinking, and a night of tossing and turning had resulted in onlytwohours of sleep. Back in her chair, she slouched and sipped, glaring through one eye at her friend. Petite, perky, already-showered-and-dressed-at-six-am, Randi Freed-Stouffer was humming, cooking, and at the moment, pissing Jenna off. But it wasn’t her friend’s energy that rankled so much as the very valid points she’d made the night before.
“Eric Laine is not the same person you were married to, Jen. He’s a big star and probably has a big ego to match.”
“As soon as he became famous, he married another woman.”
