London
“The best of friends are the ones who make your side ache from laughter and your face hurt from smiling.”
—London Berkeley
Loïc hands me a large cup of coffee and two pills. “Take the medicine, and drink your water.” He tilts his head toward the large glass of water on the end table next to me.
“Okay.” I nod. “What creamer did you put in?” I drop my gaze to the coffee cup.
“The creamy cinnamon one,” Loïc answers.
“Thanks, babe. That’s my favorite,” I say.
“I know.” He smiles. “I’ll be back in a few hours, okay? I just have one meeting to run today. Shouldn’t be long.”
“Okay. I love you.”
Loïc peppers my lips with a half-dozen quick kisses before saying, “I love you, too. See you in a bit.” He nods a farewell to Maggie, Georgia, and Paige before walking away. “Ladies.”
I watch him leave. “How does he look so damn good when I look and feel like death warmed over?” I ask the girls, who are all cradling their cups of coffee, not looking too hot either.
“That’s what sober looks like,” Maggie kids. A nostalgic smiles graces her face. “He’s always been like that after a night of partying. David and I would be walking corpses in the morning after a long night of drinking, and Loïc would be skipping around the house like a Disney princess.”
“He doesn’t skip,” I protest with a laugh that I immediately regret as my head throbs. I throw back the medicine Loïc gave me and take a big gulp of water.
“I know.” Maggie chuckles. “But, when you feel like you’re going to die from a hangover and you have someone next to you who is perfectly fine, he might as well be skipping.”
“Loïc still doesn’t drink?” Georgia asks.
“Nope, never,” I answer.
“Why is that again?” she asks.
“Well, I think there are a couple of reasons. First, he doesn’t want to ever be like the drunks he stayed with in foster care. Plus, I think the idea of losing control is still frightening to him. There’ve been so many times in his life when he wished he had control, and he didn’t. The concept of doing something to purposefully lose control isn’t appealing to him. You know?”
“Yeah, I get it,” Georgia says with a nod.
“I wish I shared the same philosophy right about now.” Paige rubs her temples.
“Seriously, what was in that pink punch you made?” Georgia asks Paige.
“No one speaks of the pink devil juice!” Maggie crosses her arms in a big X in front of her body. “Seriously, just thinking about it makes me want to hurl.”
“Oh my gosh, your mom!” Paige says to me and Georgia.
“She was in rare form.” Georgia slowly shakes her head with a roll of her eyes.
“But she can bend in ways that I can’t, and she’s twice my age. It’s pretty amazing,” Maggie says.
“True that,” Paige agrees. “I’m kind of jealous of her skills. I bet your parents can do all sorts of crazy stuff in bed.”
“Ew!” Georgia and I both yell as I whip a throw pillow at Paige.
“I’m just saying.” She giggles.
“Well, don’t!” I warn. “So…” I change the subject as I say, “I feel like we all talked tons last night, but there’s still so much I need to know. Like, Maggie”—I turn my attention toward her—“spill. Dating anyone?”
She sadly shakes her head. “No.”
“No one?” Paige questions.
“Not yet,” Maggie replies. “Working tons at the hospital and living with my parents still. Nothing in my life has really changed since…” Her voice trails off, but we all know that she means since the funeral.
“He’s been gone for almost four years, Maggie. He’d have wanted you to move on and be happy,” I say to her.
“I know he would have. I want to. It’s just…I’m busy. I work all the time. When I’m not working, I’m with my parents. It’s just not the right time.”
“You work all the time by choice. You probably have enough money saved up from all of that work over the past several years, plus the life insurance money, to buy a really nice house with cash if you wanted. You don’t have to live with your parents,” I say.
“I know. It’s easier. Plus, I don’t want to go home to an empty house,” Maggie says.
“It’s time to put yourself out there,” Paige says.
I agree, “The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be.”
“Surely, there’s a hot doctor you want to hook up with,” Georgia suggests. “Aren’t you all doing it in the on-call rooms nonstop?”
Maggie laughs. “It’s not Grey’s Anatomy.”
“Maybe online? Lots of girls from our sorority have met their husbands online,” Paige says.
“Maybe.” Maggie shrugs. “I’m just not there yet. I will be.”
“Soon?” I ask.
“Soon,” Maggie answers before directing her attention toward Georgia, effectively changing the subject. “So, how long are you back for?”
“Oh, yeah!” I respond, wanting to know the same thing.
“For a while. Dad cut me off.” She frowns.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“He froze my trust fund the second I got back to American soil. He couldn’t do it while I was in China because he wanted me to be safe, and I needed access to money—obviously. But he and Mom have been begging me to come home for a long time. So, then Loïc got ahold of me and asked me to come home for your birthday. And, now that Dad knows I’m safe, he cut me off, so I can’t go back.”
“I’m confused. It’s your trust fund though,” I say.
“I know, but Dad’s on it until we’re thirty. He has it arranged so that he can control it until then, and he’s chosen to freeze my access to it.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’ve never had any trouble getting money from it.”
“That’s because you’ve never done anything to piss Dad off.” Georgia chuckles. “He has no reason to cut you off.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m really glad he did that,” I admit. “It’s not safe over there. We’ve all been worried sick about you.”
Georgia sighs deeply. “I know, but it makes me happy.”
“Can’t anything here make you happy?” I question.
“What was it that you were doing over there again?” Maggie asks Georgia. “I’m sure London mentioned it, but last time I knew, you were in South America, saving the rainforests…I think?”
“That was a couple of adventures ago.” Georgia laughs. “For the last year, I’ve been in China, helping families escape from North Korea. I didn’t go into North Korea, but the group I’m with monitors the borders between North Korea and China and aids anyone who makes it over the border. We help them find food and shelter and build a different life. So many people try to flee from North Korea and are killed before they reach China. We help the ones who make it.”
“Wow,” Paige says.
“Yeah, it’s horrible. You can’t even imagine the stories I’ve heard from these people—how their girls are treated and abused. They risk everything, including their lives, to escape. There’s no greater joy than helping someone who has nothing. I know I was there to help them, but selfishly, it made me feel really damn good. In a way, I feel so empty here. I don’t know what my purpose is. There, I knew.”
“There are so many people here who need help. You can find ways to make a difference in our country, too, Georgia. Loïc’s the same way. He’s only happy when he feels like he’s making a difference. That’s why he goes into the VA every day—to help fellow soldiers. There has to be some cause here that you can find fulfillment in. Dad’s right. It’s not safe for you to be hovering around the North Korean border. Something beyond horrible could happen.” I reach out beside me and squeeze her hand. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“I know.” She sighs loudly with an annoyed tilt of her lips. “I’ll figure it out. Enough about me.” She dismissively waves her hand. “So, you told me a while back that you were trying to get pregnant. I’m guessing you’re not, based on your pink devil consumption last night. So, what’s happening with that?”
“We can talk about it later. I’m sure Paige and Maggie are so sick of pregnancy talk.” I press my lips together.
Both Paige and Maggie tell me that it’s fine and that I should tell my sister what’s been going on.
“Well, basically, my uterus is a hot mess. I have something called low ovarian reserve, which means that I don’t have as many eggs as I should, and the ones I do have are like the eggs of an older woman. So, they aren’t all viable. Then, I have low progesterone, which is a hormone crucial to getting pregnant and carrying a baby. Without the right amount of progesterone, even if one of my eggs fertilizes, it won’t be able to implant into my uterine wall, and it will die. So, the doctor has me on all sorts of daily medicines, supplements, and hormones, which make me irritable and depressed. I’ve been stabbed with needles more than I ever thought possible. It’s actually been a complete nightmare. I’m surprised Loïc hasn’t left me yet.”
I finish the summary of my infertility status in a rush, eager to get it out so that we can move to a different topic. It’s astounding—how everything that Loïc and I have experienced this past year can be summed up in a few sentences. The depth of the heartache that this issue has caused is enough to fill a novel.
“Oh, stop. Loïc will never leave you,” Maggie says. “You do remember how Loïc was when you first met? Pre-London Loïc was surly and miserable. The only people who got to see him smile were David and me, and even then, it wasn’t often. Loïc with you on your worst days is happier than he was without you. He’s a different person now, and it’s because of you. I think you underestimate how much he really loves you, London. You don’t ever have to worry about him leaving you.”
I nod. “No, you’re right. I know that. It’s just…it’s been really hard. Really hard.”
I tell the girls about the massive amounts of medicines, supplements, and pills that I’ve been doing for the past four months.
“So, if none of that works, then what’s next?” Georgia asks.
“In vitro fertilization, and if that doesn’t work…adoption, I guess,” I answer. “It’s just exhausting, emotionally and physically draining. You know?”
Georgia places her hand atop mine, empathy lining her features. “I’m so sorry, Londy.”
“I mean, it is what it is. We’re trying our best. We’re doing everything we’re supposed to. Granted, I probably shouldn’t have drunk last night, but I haven’t had any alcohol since last May, and it hasn’t seemed to help much.” I chuckle dryly. “I needed last night. The party was perfect. Loïc knew I needed my people. This whole ordeal has been such a lonely journey. Obviously, I have Loïc and the doctors, but the majority of the time, I feel so alone. It just sucks and doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not fair at all.”
Georgia scoots closer to me, and I lean my head on her shoulder.
“I’m so glad you’re back, and I’m especially happy that Dad cut you off,” I say.
Georgia laughs. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m just glad you’re here for a while.”
“Me, too.”
I lift my head from Georgia’s shoulder but stay right up next to her. I’m so thankful I was able to grow up with a sister. From my earliest memories, Georgia was always there, my built-in best friend.
“Paigey Poo, we need to hear about your Ethan adventures,” I say to Paige, knowing her stories will make me laugh, as they always do.
Paige doesn’t need to be asked twice. “I haven’t told you about the best foreplay ever, have I?”
“I don’t think so,” I say slowly, knowing that, with an intro like that, the story is sure to be entertaining.
“Oh, this is a good one. Picture this.” She dramatically waves her hand in front of her. “An open door, a rabid raccoon, and the best sex of my life.”
“Stop it.” I laugh. “They are not related.”
She nods enthusiastically. “Oh, yes, they are. You know the ropes.”
“Uh, no…I don’t,” I say, grinning wide. “I can honestly say I’ve never used rabid raccoon and amazing sex in the same sentence before.”
“Okay, so long story short, Ethan came to visit. After going grocery shopping, we came back to the apartment and were unloading and stuff. Well, I guess whoever was the one to bring the last bag in left the back door open. Ethan said it was me. I said it was him. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. So, we put away all the cold stuff, but all the fruit and nonperishables, we left in bags on the floor. We got distracted.”
“With hot sex?” Maggie asks.
“The TV.” Paige nods, and the three of us giggle. Paige shrugs. “The Walking Dead was on. The groceries could wait. So, stupid, hot Negan is on-screen, walking around with his bat.” She pauses and looks at me. “You do know that Negan is Denny from Grey’s, right?”
“Yes, I do.” I chuckle.
“He’s so gorgeous.” She shakes her head, as if to get back to her initial train of thought. “So, Negan’s on the TV, and we hear this rustling coming from the kitchen. So, we pause the show and go check it out. Are you ready for this? Guess what was in the kitchen.”
“A raccoon,” the three of us say.
“Yes!” Paige shrieks. “A freaking raccoon. Now, I know you’re thinking that raccoons are all cute and cuddly, but I’m telling you that they are not. We tried to shoo him out of the kitchen, and he stood up on his hind legs, like a ninja—paws out, claws ready—and hissed like a possessed demon. It was so scary. I screamed as I ran into the living room and hid behind the couch. I peeked out and saw Ethan trying to get the thing to leave with a broom, but once the raccoon backed into the hallway, it ran down the hall, toward the bedrooms and not toward the exit.
“So, I don’t know how long this ordeal went on for. It felt like hours. It might have been minutes. Who knows? Anyway, it consisted of lots of screaming—from me. Ethan tried different tactics to lead the raccoon, no doubt infected with rabies, out of the house. And, of course, there were many scary attack moves from the ninja raccoon. He was out for blood.”
Paige is so animated when she tells stories, and I can see this killer raccoon as she talks about him. Maggie, Georgia, and I are crying from laughing so hard.
“Ethan finally gets the killer to leave by blocking all the alternate routes, taking a couch cushion, and basically pushing it down the hall, so the raccoon could only go out the door. Then, once the beast was out and the back door was bolted shut, we had the hottest sex ever.”
“Yeah?” I wipe the tears from under my eyes.
“Totally. Like amazing, jaw-dropping, animalistic-screaming sex. I think we were just happy to be alive.”
“Stop.” I raise my hand in the air, overtaken by laughter. “You did not almost die.”
Paige smirks. “You weren’t there.”
“Oh my God, Paige.” I shake my head.
“Remember I told you about that wacko at work, Cecilia?” Paige asks, immediately jumping into another story.
I nod. “Yes, I know Crazy Cecilia well.”
“Did I tell you the story involving her and pickles?”
“Uh, no.” I chuckle.
“Oh my gosh…you guys are going to love this one.”
Paige launches into another dramatic story. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this hard, and it’s amazing and so very needed.
The best of friends are the ones who make your side ache from laughter and your face hurt from smiling.
I love these girls. They’re all my sisters—a chosen family. And my heart chose well. I stop to take in this moment. Four beautiful, intelligent women chatting about life, love, letdowns, wants, needs, raccoons, pickles, and sex. My face hurts, and my heart’s happy—the perfect combination.
I think about last night. My family. My friends. My husband. There’s been such goodness within these walls that I call home in just the past twenty-four hours. So much that it’s almost impossible to soak it all in.
In just the past day, there’s been a lot to be grateful for. The abundance of light has been so bright that it’s driven out the darkness within me. Love truly is remarkable.
My flawed heart breaks a little more each month, and sometimes, I feel like it’ll completely crumble until I have nothing left. And then I have days like this to remind me that I will never be left with nothing. I have so much goodness in my life.
So much.