“Did you know about this?”
Carmen looks from me to Ava. “She was waiting to tell you until after Ava’s party.”
I take that seat Carmen said I might need. My knees could buckle, sending me straight to the floor otherwise.
“You knew Mom had cancer and you didn’t tell me?”
“It wasn’t my place—”
“You’re my best friend! Of course it’s your place.”
“Like I said, she wanted to wait until after Ava’s birthday. She knew how important it was to you. She didn’t want you to be worrying about her condition.”
“This is unbelievable,” I say, leaning my forehead into my palm.
“It was a big year for you. Even before the party, you had your hands full with Ava. For the first time in ages, you seemed happy. When she got the news, the last thing she wanted to do was upset you.”
“So she told you instead.”
“Yes. Not right away. But between the restaurant and Ava, she needed help organizing everything—”
“She needed help hiding it from me,” I correct. She enlisted the help of my best friend to deceive me. “And Des? Does she know?”
Carmen nods.
“Why wouldn’t you two tell me any of this? Especially after her arrest.”
“Believe it or not, it’s not been the biggest thing on my mind. After the jail attack, I was just hoping she’d pull through. Every other moment I’ve been working on Eileen’s case, trying my damnedest to get her back to us.”
“That’s not true. You were in court today, and it had nothing to do with Mom.”
I know this is a low blow, but I don’t care. I’m not about to let Carmen masquerade as some savior, not when she has withheld this from me. I’m reaching, searching for any type of reaction. Her betrayal dives that deep.
“Yes, I have other clients, Marion. But trust me, Eileen is my priority.”
“What about me? Has everyone forgotten my role in all this? That I’m a victim here?”
Carmen opens, then closes her mouth. It’s not like her to lack the appropriate response. I know she must feel conflicted, because while she loves Eileen, she is also my best friend. She knows Mom didn’t do right by me.
I stand, flexing my fingers toward Ava. “We need to leave.”
“Don’t go this upset.”
“I’ve been in a constant state of upset since the party. Just when I think it can’t get worse, it does.”
“Stay. Let’s talk this out.”
“The only person I want to speak with is Mom, and I can’t.” I laugh. “It’s ironic. She didn’t tell me about her cancer because she didn’t want to ruin the party. Getting arrested was much more discreet.”
Again, Carmen looks as though she wants to say something, but doesn’t. She just watches me leave.
20 EileenThen
Cliff’s family planned the funeral. They made the cheapest, most detached decisions possible. It was obvious to everyone in attendance—to the dozen who did show up—that this was something they wanted to be over and done with. Like lancing a boil. Cliff’s entire life had come to this: an annoying afternoon for those he left behind.
Of course, I didn’t feel that way. I wanted to celebrate his life, mourn his loss. Cliff never introduced me to his family. After seeing the way they behaved at the funeral, I understood why he avoided them. They didn’t seem interested in getting to know me. I wasn’t his wife or his fiancé—just some sad, crying girl on the front row. No one even asked my name.
Jamie postponed her trip. Her old apartment—briefly, in my mind, the place I might live with Cliff—found a new tenant. She stayed with me in my dingy studio. Her place seemed like a palace by comparison, but she never commented on the leaky faucet or inconsistent electricity, the fact you had to flick on the kitchen light in order to get the living room fan to work. For two weeks, she slept on a futon, making sure I continued eating and did something during the day besides cry.
“I can stay longer if you’d like,” she said, as the start date at her university approached.
“You can’t. Your classes will begin soon.”
“I’m already starting late. Pushing back a little longer won’t be a problem.”
“No. You have to go. I’m not going to let you give up college.”
“I know, but you’re—”
“I’m fine.”
I was harsher with her than I should have been. Jamie had only ever tried to help me, but now she was leaving, abandoning me to my memories of Cliff. Even when I thought of something happy, my insides would clench with anger and… and guilt. His death, accidental and tragic as it was, wouldn’t have happened had our lives never crossed paths. He might be alive if we weren’t naively daydreaming about the future that day, if he wasn’t helping my best friend move. I was nothing more than a screw-up, transferring my bad luck onto him, and now he was gone forever.
I had what some might call a breakdown. I quit going to work. It was too difficult to stand at the same counter where we’d once been together, to sit in the same alleyway where we first got to know one another. I locked myself away in my apartment, refusing to leave. The only person left in my life was Jamie, and she lived miles away.
“You have to get your life together,” she’d say over the phone. “I’m worried about you.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do any of this without him,” I said, tissues sprinkled over my comforter, the curtains pulled tight to block out the sun. My room mirrored the darkness and claustrophobia I felt inside.
“He’d want you to get better,” Jamie said. “Cliff would want you to move on with your life.”
I’d been so close, it seemed, to having the life I’d always wanted. The family I felt I deserved. That same day—the very day he died!—we’d been imagining the future. They say when we
