Page 38 of Something Borrowed

“Okay, noted.” Vic grinned her toothiest, most ridiculous grin. Then caught herself catching flies as her mother would say and covered her mouth. She finally took a sip of her tea. It tasted delicious, even nearly cold, and felt wonderful on her parched-from-talking-and-anxiety throat. “Seriously though . . . I’m so grateful, but please, tell me why. It literally keeps me up at night. Why would you do this for me? Why are you so freakishly kind? Too kind, I think a lot of people might agree.”

Madeline considered the question so long that it became slightly uncomfortable. Then her shoulders sagged, and she heaved a sigh that suggested she’d made some inner decision. “I don’t know if you know, but my husband, my only child—my daughter Lauren—and my sister who was my best friend all died at the same time. Car accident.”

“Oh my God,” Vic said, heartsick for Madeline and sickened by her own selfishness. She’d gone through absolutely nothing compared to that.

“Anyway . . . ever since then,” Madeline’s voice roughened, “I don’t care. Like, about so many things . . . I just don’t give a shit.”

Gwen startled and her mouth opened to object, and Vic didn’t buy it either. Madeline held up a hand as if sensing they were going to interrupt.

“I mean about social norms, etiquette, and ‘rules’ for human interaction. Life is excruciatingly hard sometimes, and pretty much the only thing I do care about now is people and what they go through—and animals. If I can make someone’s road even a little bit easier, well . . . good. All I care about is how I treat other people and show up in the world.” She grimaced and rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Sounds so gross and pretentious out loud, I know.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Gwen said. “It’s beautiful—and it’s you to a T.”

Vic sniffled through full sinuses.

Madeline’s wry smile was back in place. “So yeah, if I give someone a chance and they burn me, if I lose my shirt, if they don’t like me, if, if, if . . .” She shrugged. “So much of what we worry about is nonsense. I can’t be bothered. You want to steal, that’s your issue. You want to repress and people-please until everything bursts out of you inappropriately? That’s also yours.”

Madeline paused to take a deep breath, and Gwen and Vic, who was slightly stunned, stayed quiet.

“Mostly, though, it was because when I looked in your eyes, I recognized what I saw there—grief. It was like looking in a mirror a few years ago.”

Vic inhaled sharply, painfully.

Madeline’s head bobbed. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning and like you’d do anything for even a moment’s respite from pain, so let’s just say you don’t have a corner on being a shitshow, and I was . . . sympathetic.”

Gwen was nodding. “There’s so much to survive in life.”

Boots materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, and bumped his broad head against Madeline’s calf. She reached down and rubbed his ears. The cat immediately commenced a gravelly purr. “This guy was definitely a huge help to me.”

Vic’s eyes welled, but she hid it by taking another sip of tea. It was incredibly kind of Madeline to even remotely suggest they were, in some way, the same. Deep down, though, Vic knew they weren’t. A woman like Madeline, who spoke her mind, always went with her gut, and had a strong moral code, would never have made the mistakes Vic had. She would never have been the other woman.

If anyone really knew you—

They’d hate me, I know.

But even the familiar litany of self-abuse couldn’t completely destroy her mood. She hadn’t lost her second chance at the Second Chance Shop.

Plus, they know quite a bit about me and, well, they haven’t shunned me yet . . . The realization was a bit of a shock.

“I always thought that by this age, I’d have dealt with my shit,” Vic said a little shakily, picking up her teacup again. “But nope, I’m just getting started.”

“Right?” Gwen said. “It’s because there are so many layers. We don’t even really know what our shit is till we’re older.”

“True story,” Vic agreed, wondering if she’d ever understand Gwen and Madeline’s grace toward her.

Madeline raised her cup. “I’ll drink to that too.”

Boots, apparently needing to be in on the action, bumped Madeline’s calf again—then came over and did the same to Vic. He’d never done that before. The gentle thud of his velvety-soft cranium was surprisingly comforting or encouraging or something. Like a fist bump from a human.

“Well, look at that,” Madeline said, then peered at Vic thoughtfully. “That’s something to consider for sure.”

“What is?”

Gwen laughed. “She’s saying you should get a cat. But she thinks that about everyone.”

“As ever, she’s not wrong.”

Vic felt a bit giddy. It was like getting affirmation about the very idea she’d had herself.