“Relationships are tricky. You bring a carry-on into it and end up with major baggage.” ~Johnny Outlaw
Sitting down across from Tracy, I drop my bag in the seat next to me, and say, “Hey there.”
She looks up from her phone as if she doesn’t even notice the whirlwind of an entrance I just made. “Hi.”
“Sorry, I’m late. I got held up at—”
“It’s okay.” She holds up her hand, no further explanation needed. “I ordered coffee. We should get you something.”
“Why are you drinking coffee? We drink mimosas or screwdrivers at brunch. Even a Cape Cod occasionally, but never coffee? You okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, waving the waitress over. Clear sign she’s diverting.
I lean forward, concerned. Tracy is never rude or impatient. “What is it? What’s going on?”
She straightens her shoulders and tilts her chin up as if she’s steeling herself for an argument. “I broke up with Adam.”
“What?” I say this way too loud, drawing attention from nearby diners. Lowering my voice, I whisper, “What happened?”
Snapping her fingers in the air for the waitress, Tracy orders two Screwdrivers when she arrives. “But hold the OJ,” she adds.
The waitress, not amused by Tracy’s treatment, asks, “So you want two vodkas, straight up? A bit early, don’t ya think?”
Tracy glares at her. “My fiancé has been cheating on me, so judge away.”
“Oh, honey,” the waitress says, her tone changing completely. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get the drinks.”
Tracy stifles a sniffle, but stops her before she leaves. “And I’ll have the pancake platter with an extra side of crispy bacon, two scrambled eggs with salsa on the side, and a muffin. Do you have blueberry today?”
The waitress answers, “Yes.”
“I’ll have the blueberry muffin then. Also, do you have those big olives that you put in your Bloody Mary’s?”
“From the bar? Yeah.”
“Can I have a few of those on the side,” Tracy adds as my eyes start bugging out. I guess we know what kind of griever Tracy is—comfort food is her friend, soon to be best at this rate.
They both look at me. “Oh, ummm.” I scan the menu quickly. “The Eggs Benedict please and a Mimosa.”
“She’ll have a vodka with me and make them shots,” Tracy interrupts. “And maybe I’ll also have the Eggs Benedict too. Seems fitting considering I’ve been in a relationship with a traitor.”
“I’ll put a rush on your order,” the waitress says, then hurries off.
I immediately lean in, still shocked by the bomb just dropped, and ask, “What do you mean Adam’s been cheating on you?”
She crosses her arms, and looks away from me. “Sure, Holli, take his side.”
My hands fly up in front of me. “I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m just shocked because I know how much Adam loves you. I’m so surp—”
“If he loved me he wouldn’t have cheated on me with some ho-bag five years ago on Spring Break in Mexico.”
Sitting back, I digest what she just said. “Five years ago?”
“That doesn’t make it right just because it was a long time ago.”
I huff. “Stop twisting my words. I know it doesn’t. It just sounds—”
“You’re siding with him again.”
“Tracy, calm down. I’m not siding with him.”
“You’re not siding with me either. I need you in my corner.”
I reach across and cover her hand with mine. “I am in your corner. This is just out of the blue. When did you find out? How did you find out?”
“He told me a couple weeks ago.”
The pieces seem to fall into place. I raise my eyebrow and look her in the eyes. “That’s why you came to Vegas.”
She nods. Our drinks are set down in front of us along with a little bowl of olives and a muffin for Tracy. She takes a big bite of the muffin, and with tears in her eyes, says, “I didn’t know what to do, so I left.”
Despite the pastry-filled confession, I understand every word. I pick up the vodka and hand her the drink. With my glass in hand, I say, “Bottoms up.” I shoot the shot and shake my head in disgust afterwards. “Why are we shooting vodka by the way?”
“I couldn’t think clearly. I needed something stronger than coffee.”
I set the glass down and try to find reason in the insanity. “Okay, let’s talk this through. He told you. That’s a pro in my book. Maybe poor timing. He should have told you when it happened or even better, not have done it. That’s a con. But it did happen. Did he tell you why he cheated?”
She stays quiet when the food is set down in front of us. When the waitress leaves, Tracy says, “He shouldn’t have done it. Period. But he did, so I’ve been trying to remember everything about that spring break. I stayed on campus because I had to work. He ended up on a boys’ trip to Mexico having sex with some college sophomore he met from Rochester. End of story. Con. Con. Con.”
“I’m sorry.” My heart hurts for her, but I can tell this isn’t something that’s going to be solved over vodka shots and Eggs Benedict. “If you need a place to stay, you know you can come over to mine until you figure things out.”
“No, it’s fine. Adam went over to one of his friends’ apartments, but thank you.” She sips her coffee, leaving the second shot of vodka untouched as she stares out the window of the restaurant. When she looks back, her tone is steady, but lower. “He’s apologized to me every day through email, text, and voicemail, sent flowers, and he even serenaded me one night. What should I do, Holli?”
“Oh Trace, I suck at relationships. You know this. So I’m not sure I have any words of wisdom on the subject.”
“Tell me as a friend. Don’t be logical and give me pros or cons, but from one girl to another.”
“What does your heart tell you?”
“To forgive him. I miss him, but it pisses me off that I miss him after what he did.”
I drag my fork through the hollandaise sauce. “I’ve been cheated on. It’s not pretty and it’s not easy to get over. I stayed with one guy. I broke up with another, but anyway you look at it, I’m not with either now. Was it because they cheated? I don’t know anymore. I may have thought that at the time, but looking back now, I’m not so sure. I had issues in both of those relationships. The cheating just magnified the problems.”
She sets her glass down and says, “Things have been so good the last few years, heck, I thought all six years were, but was it just a charade he was putting on for me?”
“No, Adam loves you. You can see it. Everyone can see it. Don’t doubt what you’ve shared. It was mistake he made a long time ago.”
“But I do. I doubt everything now.”
“Do you love him?”
“Of course, I do. So much. Still, which makes me mad.”
“Then it sounds like you need more time.”
Glancing down as more food is set in front of her, she says, “I guess I do.” When she looks back up at me, she smiles. “You’re gonna eat some of this with me, right?”
I reach across the table and steal some bacon. “Absolutely.”
We continue eating as I fill her in on the party at Danny’s. “Sounds like he likes you in more than a neighborly way,” she says, raising an eyebrow up suggestively.
“What is the neighborly way anyway?”
Tracy shrugs. “Maybe it’s when you share your old eggs—”
“Don’t talk about my eggs like that. They might hear you and shrivel up and die.”
“That’s gross, Hols. I was talking about the eggs in your fridge. They’re like two months old or more. But maybe he does want your eggs.” She drops her fork. “I think I’m done eating. This conversation has taken a turn for the worse.”
“This conversation is a lot ironic by the way. The last thing I told him is I have eggs if he needs any.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” she teases. “Sharing eggs?”
“You and Dalton with your code words. I think I’m a little more straight-forward than that. Now stop. I don’t even know how we got started talking about sharing old eggs.”
“Back to this neighbor,” she says. The girl’s got tenacity, that’s for sure. “You say he’s a model?”
“Was.”
“Are we quibbling about was or is a model? Does it matter? He was an underwear model. Holy hotness. And why didn’t you invite me to this party?”
“I thought you were busy with Adam.”
She snorts and shoots the second shot before ordering another round for us by twirling her finger in the air. She might be drunk. “I don’t want to talk about me and Adam.”
So instead of Adam, I tell her about the models and how Danny is ‘more or less friends’ with them. That makes her giggle but I think the vodka is helping the sillies along as well.
When she stops laughing, she asks, “And Johnny? How’s the tour and that going?”
“Life feels like I’m peeking at it through a looking glass, so surreal. It is normal to fall into a funk after someone you like leaves?”
“It’s surreal because you hooked up with a rock star. As for the latter, I’ve been in a funk too, so I’m thinking it’s normal.”
I’m starting to giggle, the booze affecting me. Fortunately, I biked here. “Good to know I’m not crazy.”
“You still might be a little crazy—crazy over a guy named Johnny Outlaw.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I reply with a sigh.
We leave after another round of mimosas, both of us in better moods. As I bike home, my mind goes to Dalton, like it always does. I can finally admit to myself that I am crazy—crazy in love with Jack Dalton and crazy in lust with Johnny Outlaw.