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I return the nod and tell Gemma, "I'm gonna let you go. I'm in the middle of painting mason jars."
I can hear the smile in her voice. “That sounds oddly fun!”
"It is! We’re using chalk paint. Oh shit. I wasn't going to tell you because I'm making one for you. Dammit…now I went ahead and told you that, too."
She laughs, “Don't tell me what color."
“White.”
She cracks up, and I do too. "I'll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you, Willow girl. Whatever you do, don't sleep with him."
"Where the hell would I make that happen?"
"Not sleeping with him? You can do that everywhere."
"And if I wanted to sleep with him I could do that everywhere too."
"Naughty girl.”
“I’m kidding.”
“I know, but you wish…” she says with what I know is a grin before her picture disappears.
I rise from the loveseat as soon as New Hampshire walks out, closing the door and waving her hand as a warning to not go in there. I grin, then lose the smile as an idea comes to me. “Laura, do you know what I'm thinking?"
"That we need margaritas?"
“This is why we're friends."
We walk into the arts and crafts room and I announce, “Everyone, we have decided that we need margaritas?—”
Laura explains as if it’s obvious, “—to properly paint these mason jars."
“Exactly.”
Then Laura surprises me, and everyone, by announcing with class, "I'm buying." Rachel and Sylvia open their mouths to object but Laura insists, “I am Venmo-ing what I surmise will be the cost of our celebration to you and you can't say no!"
The room explodes in energy, some dancing in their chairs, others applauding. A cacophony of paint brushes put down as everyone heads toward the bar.
Rachel laughs, “This is supposed to be for the final night.”
Sylvia grins, “But oh well! We’re breaking new ground.”
Let the party begin!
FIFTEEN
Ben
I’m at the house I grew up in, sitting in the porch’s sunlight, brainstorming with my dad how to get my divorce papers signed. I came for coffee and it turned into this. “Your mother and I could step in. We could talk to her."
"This is my fight, Dad.”
“You are dealing with a woman who, it seems to me, is mentally ill. You said she's a narcissist but she's also delusional. Maybe they're one of the same. It doesn’t matter if I look up definitions. The behavior is bizarre.”
“Welcome to my life.” I take a sip of coffee. It’s late in the day, but I needed it. Last night I barely slept.
