Libby nodded as the waitress brought their drinks and set them on the linen-covered table. As she looked around at the tiny, southern restaurant’s interior, over half of the faces recognizable, she thought to herself how much she wanted this to be temporary. Even if the only things she had were her laptop and a change of clothes, the first thing she’d do after lunch was get online and start sending in job applications. She was getting out of there as soon as she possibly could.
Chapter Three
Libby could feel the sting of salt in the air as the breeze hit her sun-warmed skin. The sun’s rays were finally behind the trees, but they’d been on her face all day. Cocooned in the latticework of rope that comprised the hammock, bolted to two towering pine trees near the shore, she closed her eyes and let the lapping of the waves lull her. There was something so peaceful about it. It was like being on vacation but with no one to share it.
She’d sent off a dozen applications all over New York this afternoon, each one taking double the time to send as the wireless went in and out because she was so far away from town. She resolved to do the rest at the coffee shop since they had advertised free wireless. She was hopeful that they had a better connection. For now, though, she kept her eyes closed and tried to block out the last month of her life.
The moment of tranquility didn’t last. Her cell phone was chirping on the towel in the sand. She rolled out of the hammock, catching herself as it twisted in a circle and spun her outward. “Hello?” she answered. “Trish, how are you?”
Instantly, all the tension that her rest had eliminated came flooding back. The call from her friend, Trish—newly engaged and full of excitement about her wedding—brought her back to reality and filled her with the uneasiness that came when she thought about how she’d lost everything.
“I’m well! How are you?” Trish sounded extra chipper.
Libby pushed her toes into the sand. “Okay.” Even though she wasn’t.
“I called to say happy early birthday!”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Kevin and I are going to be up to our eyeballs in wedding planning tomorrow picking china patterns, so I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to call…” Libby could hear traffic in the background, the sound of it making her homesick.
As much as she loved Trish, she disliked how she brought out the competitive side of her. Trish always did that: she always said something to put herself above Libby, like how she’d be too busy to call on her actual birthday, and then, right away, something exciting about herself. Not that Libby wanted to drone on and on about the situation, but the way Trish did that, it was almost like a challenge—one negative, one positive. One-to-one: Happy Birthday—so sorry! I’ll be too busy planning my wonderful wedding with my fiancé—who didn’t leave me like yours did—to call. As if to say, Your turn. What can you offer? When she’d had something to offer, it hadn’t been a problem at all. It was as easy as lighthearted sibling rivalry. But now, with her confidence shattered, it was a blow to her ego.
“Would you be my Maid of Honor?” Trish asked.
“Of course!” she said. She was honored to be asked to be in Trish’s wedding. She just wished she could be happier about it. She felt so low, it was hard to be anything but miserable.
The sun had completely slipped beyond the horizon, sending out a bright orange and pink glow in the sky. The spring air was still cool in the evenings, and Libby felt a slight chill against the heat of her skin. She sat down on the hammock and hung her head, the ropes creaking beneath her.
“I’m so glad! I was nervous to ask, given what’s happened in your life recently. I didn’t want to upset you or anything.”
My wedding! Your disaster of a life. There it was again. One-to-one.
“It’s fine, Trish. I’m happy for you! So, what are my duties?” she asked, trying to sound as chipper as one should sound when her best friend had asked her to be her Maid of Honor. Shame was swelling in her gut in the form of acid as she thought about how bad a friend she was for not being happier. It was just too hard. How in the world would she be able to help Trish plan her wedding festivities when she’d just had to cancel all her own? It made her feel hollow and exhausted, and she hadn’t even started yet.
“I’ll send you a list of addresses—most of the people you know—and you can send out invitations to the shower. Would you mind planning that?”
“Of course not. Do you have anything particular in mind for the shower, or do you want me to surprise you?”
“Why don’t we have that shower game that Becca had at hers? Do you remember it?”