AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
For the rest of brunch, I can’t get Harper’s words out of my head. They even haunt me on the cab ride to Bloomingdale’s with Brynn afterward, an undercurrent pulling me deeper into my conflicted thoughts.
Since I cleared the air with Brynn about this morning, she’s slipped back into her bright, chipper self, chatting nonstop about the upscale department store’s big sales event. Apparently, she’s mapped out an entire plan of attack, detailing the most efficient route through the store, complete with bathroom breaks.
By the time we’ve gone from designer shoes to evening wear, I’d changed my mind half a dozen times. While I tried on a pair of sparkly Jimmy Choo slingbacks, I realized I was definitely hopelessly in love with Ethan. And probably always had been, deep down. But an hour later, when I’d slipped into a sapphire-blue Armani cocktail dress—that looked incredible, but I couldn’t afford—I’d decided I’d merely confused my affection for Ethan with infatuation, which masqueraded as love but wasn’t in actuality all that serious. When we finally reached outerwear, I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
To make matters worse, all my indecision about Ethan had led to distracted shopping, which led to some serious overspending. The only bright side? Brynn assumed my addled state of mind stemmed from sales-tag oversaturation, and I simply couldn’t decide which items to buy.
“What do you think of this?” I turn sideways, observing every angle in the full-length mirror. The weighty wool jacket engulfs my entire frame, from the fluffy, faux fur–lined collar to the ankle-grazing hemline.
Brynn frowns. “It’s nice, but winter is almost over. Sure, you like the coat now, but you’ll quit wearing it soon.”
In the reflection, I watch her study the detailed floral embroidery on the Alice and Olivia coat she’s wearing. Is it just me, or is there subtext behind her words?
“Besides,” she adds, as if it’s an afterthought, “you won’t need a heavy winter jacket like that when you’re back in LA.”
The statement, though true, stings a little, and I’m not sure why it evokes such a visceral reaction. Suddenly sweltering, I shrug out of the thousand-pound straitjacket. “You’re right.” I stab the coat hanger back into the sleeves and shove it onto the rack with the other discards. Turning back to Brynn, I say, “You should get it. It looks really good on you.”
“I don’t know…” Her voice fades in her hesitation. “It’s kind of a statement piece. I don’t think I can pull off something so flashy.” She wriggles out of the coat. Between the shimmery satin and all-over applique, it’s certainly a showstopper. But too flashy? While it’s not her style per se, the Brynn I knew would wear whatever she wanted with confidence.
“You can totally pull it off,” I assure her, but she’s already returning it to the rack.
Growing up, Brynn was never arrogant or boastful, although she certainly could have been considering she crushed every math competition, got straight As in every subject, and surpassed all the other kids in our gymnastics class, executing a perfect backflip while I struggled with cartwheels. Not to mention she once made a grown man cry with her stirring violin solo of “Ave Maria.” Okay, so the man was our sentimental, soft-hearted music teacher who openly wept when we watchedThe Sound of Musicon the last day of school, but still. Brynn is one of the most talented and lovely human beings on the planet. It doesn’t make sense that she’d be insecure about anything, let alone a fancy coat. What had shaken her confidence?
“I think I’m ready for a brief shopping intermission,” she says, changing the subject and, surprisingly, veering from her master plan. “Let’s grab a cupcake at Magnolia Bakery.”
Although we had brunch not too long ago, I follow her to the escalator. As we head down to the main floor, our arms draped with Bloomingdale’s iconic brown paper bags, a thought occurs to me. Maybe I’ve taken our easy, uncomplicated friendship for granted. Sure, we seemed to fall in sync the second we reconnected, but we’ve been out of touch for a long time. A lot can change in a few years.
Once we reach Magnolia Bakery, and revel in the mouthwatering aromas as we wait in line, Brynn selects a red velvet cupcake and I opt for their famous banana pudding. It takes some expert shuffling of our shopping bags, but we decide to walk off some calories while we eat by perusing the beauty department.
Determined to get to know adult Brynn better, I lead with the first topic that comes to mind. “How are your parents? I haven’t seen them since…” I pause, searching my memory. “Since you last came home for Christmas, what was it? Three or four years ago?”
She picks up a sample bottle of perfume, sniffs, then makes a face, setting it back on the counter. “They’re okay, I guess.”
Hmm… So, she’s not feeling particularly talkative about her parents. But I try one more time, anyway. “Do they still go on those murder mystery–themed train tours in Napa?” Mr. and Mrs. Delaney were fanatical about murder mysteries. They even hosted annual costume parties where someone “died” over dinner and the guests had to solve the crime. My parents were invited once, but even though Brynn and I were best friends, our parents never really bonded, which, considering their vastly different life philosophies, never surprised me.
“No, they don’t,” she says, spritzing Chanel Nº5 on her wrist. The complex fragrance, both floral and musky, blends with the sweet scent of my banana pudding. It’s an intoxicating combination, but Brynn doesn’t seem to notice. Her features are strained as she adds, “They actually, uh, got divorced. Almost two years ago.”
The news hits me with such shocking force, I nearly drop a hundred-dollar bottle of perfume. “What?” I stare dumbly, unable to wrap my head around the revelation. The Delaneys were the perfect family. I always thought her parents would wind up like the old couple inThe Notebook. Hopefully without Alzheimer’s, but so lovingly devoted, they leave this world together, embraced in one another’s arms.
“Ethan and I were shocked, too,” Brynn admits.
“What happened?” I ask gently, almost in a whisper.
She shrugs. “Nothing, really. They said they just… drifted apart.” For the first time since the conversation started, she turns to look at me, her brown eyes muddied with pain. “It’s crazy, you know. How two people can promise to spend their lives together, then give up like that. They didn’t even try counseling. They just threw everything away because… I don’t even know why. Because they didn’t have the same hobbies anymore?”
She sounds so confused, so dejected, my heart aches for her. “I’m so sorry, Brynn. Is that why you haven’t come home in a while?”
“Ethan and I didn’t want to split the holidays between their two places, so we decided to make them come to us.”
“I can’t believe I had no idea.” My tone is apologetic, thick with remorse. Why hadn’t she told me? Or rather, why hadn’t I asked?
She shrugs again. “We’re both busy. It never came up.”
What she means is, we lost touch and stopped sharing all the important moments in our lives. We’d drifted apart. Just like her parents.
I suddenly have a flashback to fourth grade summer camp. We’d made matching tie-dyed T-shirts and friendship bracelets out of green and purple thread and tiny pink beads, accessories to signify our lifelong bond. Whatever happened to those?
