Lily White Lies(3)

Yes, a day with the girls could only make me feel better. If Cory couldn’t make me laugh, I knew Charlotte would let me cry. Either way, it was well-timed medicine.



~ ~ ~



The girls and I had been regulars at Sal Latino’s for the better part of ten years—often referring to it as ‘our’ café. People maneuvered blocks out of their way to find the wrought iron tables of the outdoor eatery an enjoyable escape from the smoke-filled restaurants scattered throughout Upper Darby. Unusually busy for a brisk May morning, the bustle seemed to end at an invisible line separating the city sidewalk from the patio of the quaint café.

I took a seat and began thumbing through a copy of Brides magazine, quickly becoming lost in my thoughts.

“Good morning. Can I interest you in something to drink?”

Startled by the sudden interruption, I glanced up at the man who waited for my reply. He seemed to loom over me as he stood at my table awaiting my response, but I couldn’t force a complete sentence out of my mouth.

“Uh—yes—drink…”

Letting out a sound that was more than a sigh but short of a laugh, I managed to say something relatively coherent. “Water… please.” His strong jaw and chiseled features were as eye appealing as his well-formed body, which was evident, even under his white oxford shirt.

I felt my cheeks flush as he playfully replied, “Uh—yes—water—coming right up.”

If he had even the slightest gift of sixth sense among his other, more obvious attributes, he would have felt my eyes boring holes into his back as he retrieved my water.

While he was away, I worked to compose myself and decided to be more sophisticated when he returned. After all, he wasn’t the first good-looking man I’d ever seen and I wasn’t a star struck schoolgirl.

I was an adult.

An adult who was engaged to be married. Certainly, I could handle myself with dignity in the presence of a gorgeous man. I discreetly covered my eyes and stole a quick glance at him through parted fingers as he headed my way, a bottle of water and a glass of ice on his tray.

As he approached my table I cringed, the words I had rehearsed in my head were crumbling into unintelligible syllables.

“Here you go—water as ordered.”

Instead of being upset that words had escaped me, I should have been happy that I managed to nod and smile at the same time, without any sign of drool. I was still nodding as he smiled and turned away. I was staring at the table, still in the middle of an internal scolding when the girls arrived. I stood and gave them each a hug, putting my embarrassment aside for the time being.

“We’re sorry, Meg. We would have been here earlier, but…” Cory stopped and glanced toward Charlotte. When she continued, her eyes beamed with excitement. “We had, like, the most fab idea for your party and had to make a stop on the way here.”

I began my protest. “We agreed! No male strippers…”

Charlotte cut in. “Who said anything about strippers? Not that anyone besides you would mind...”

“Our best friend only gets married once—if she’s lucky—so we decided to do it up right.” Cory gave Charlotte a conspiratorial smile before boasting, “This will be one for the bachelorette party hall of fame!”

I felt an internal shudder creep along my spine. I knew they meant well, but I also knew what they were capable of, especially with Cory in charge. When it came to having fun, she was the queen of her court.

“What have the two of you gone and done?”

“It’s moral and it’ll be a lot of fun.” Charlotte reassured.

“It’s legal,” Cory added, “well… in most states anyway.” They shared a laugh.

“Maybe, but knowing you two, it’ll have me in divorce court before the ink on the marriage license dries.”

“And... that would be a bad thing?” Charlotte prodded.

Our eyes locked for a brief moment, but our friendship and the love I felt for her kept me from making too much of her last statement. She had never tried to hide her enmity toward Brian and if nothing else, I respected her honesty. I often thought unconscious jealousies and the lack of a stable relationship in her own life led her to pick apart and belittle others happiness. Yet, it seemed impossible to be angry with her when I was much busier feeling sorry for her. I quickly changed the subject to something less tense as I spotted our waiter headed in our direction.

“Excitable—four o’clock!”

Cory and Charlotte turned in unison to see who had my attention.

When we were in college, we had revised the expression, able-bodied men to mean men-who-were-able. ‘Dates-gone bad’ were what we called regrettable. A man who left no lasting impression was forgettable. If he were someone we couldn’t keep our hands off, he was touchable. It was the one-to-ten scale with more flair. And although it seemed a little silly at this point in our lives, it was a language all our own and it could still coax a smile out of the darkest mood.