I immediately pick up the menu from the center of the table and nonchalantly flip through it. “What?” I ask casually. “I’m good, just a rough morning dealing with immature musicians, in the rain no less.” I slide my eyes over the menu to peer at Campbell across the table. “I don’t know where you find these assholes, but really, Cam, it’s time to swim in a bigger, better pond.”
“Oh whatever, Jen. If that shoot had lasted any longer, you probably would have taken one of them home,” she jokes.
“Bite your tongue, woman!” I sneer. “The only one who even seemed half-way decent was their guitarist and he proved himself to be a grade-A fucktard.”
The waitress makes her way to the table just as my expletive spills out of my mouth. She places Cam’s coffee and Vivian’s tea on the table and looks to me disapprovingly for my order. Yes, ma’am, I’m a potty mouth; we’ve been coming here for months and my language is just as inappropriate on each occasion. I’m not sure why she thinks her scolding expression will change that now.
“Caramel macchiato, please,” I tell her, smiling sweetly which only earns me a headshake as she walks away.
“Ohhhh, tell me more about this guitarist. Details, girls.” Viv moves to the edge of her chair and leans in on the table. “Hot? Muscles? Tattoos…”
“Asshole,” I simply say, cutting off her inquisition.
She looks to Campbell to elaborate, and Cam immediately accommodates, providing a play-by-play of my hideous morning. Vivian listens intently while I sit back and sip the coffee the waitress delivers. When she finally finishes her story, I look to Vivian to begin the musician bashing, but instead I’m met with wide eyes.
“Jen likes a boy, Jen likes a boy!” she shouts, clapping her hands. The outburst causes me to choke on my coffee and burn my tongue. Campbell just nods and smiles.
“I’m sorry, where the fuck did that come from? Did you not hear the story? He was a dick to me.”
“Oh, I heard the story,” she answers, wiggling her eyebrows. “I heard how you bickered with a tall, hot, tatted guitar player all morning. You usually put them in their place and move on, but here you sit, still steaming over your encounter. So, once again, Jen likes a boy, Jen likes a boy,” she sings.
“I’m not fucking twelve, Viv. Get over it.”
“I’m not going to disagree,” Campbell interjects, laughing at my pure mortification. “I have to ask though, what in the hell is gonasyphaherpilaids?”
Both of my friends look to me for the definition of my new favorite word for assholes who can’t keep it in their pants. “Think of the wide spectrum of venereal diseases; now mesh them all together and you have the king hybrid of all the major ones…gona…sypha…herpa…aids. There are just some guys you look at and know, their rotten dicks will give me a buffet of issues which require prescription medication. I like my vajayjay; I try not to anger her.”
They are rolling with laughter by the end of my explanation, provoking the attention of nearby patrons and more nasty looks from our waitress. Her twenty-five percent is slowly finding its way back into my pocket…lighten up, lady.
“I certainly don’t mean to change the subject because I love any opportunity possible to poke fun at Jen’s love life, but has anyone heard from Carly? She should be here by now,” Campbell asks, wiping the tears from her eyes.
We all check our phones to make sure we hadn’t missed a text or call from her, but we all come up empty. I look back to the front door of the coffee shop when I hear the bell, which hangs from the door, chime. There stands Carly, soaked through, swollen red eyes, and no little Olivia tagging along behind like usual.
“She’s here, girls,” I say, directing everyone’s attention to the entrance. Immediately Vivian stands up to rush toward her, also noticing her distraught state. Carly puts a hand in the air and shakes her head to stop her and then slowly makes her way across the coffee shop to our table. Vivian takes the cue, and sits back down, watching her like a hawk until she, too, takes her seat with us.
Carly is our shy, carefree, loveable corner piece to our little friend puzzle. She is fiercely loyal and wants everyone to get along; to see her so upset, something has definitely turned her world upside down. She would never let us see her this way, and absolutely not in public.
“Honey, what happened?” Cam asks, handing her a napkin to dry herself off. “Where is Olivia?”
“She’s with Jack. I told him I was meeting you girls after our doctor’s appointment this morning.” Her answer is barely audible and her eyes are down, burning a hole into the table top.
“This morning? Sweetie, it’s late afternoon. What have you been doing all day if your appointment was this morning?” I ask, as I reach over and place my hand on hers which, are laced in her lap. Vivian takes note and begins to rub her back.
“Walking,” she whispers, still refusing to look up at us.
I glance around the table at the others and we all make eye contact, I can feel the concern radiate from them. She has been walking around Denver all day in the rain, alone. “Are you hurt, what happened?” I ask again. I try to be compassionate and not too gruff with her, but my own worry level is spiking.
She finally looks up at me, tears spilling over her lids and down her frozen cheeks. “We can’t have any more children,” she answers. Her lips tremble from both the cold as well as the pain the words are inflicting on her.
“What do you mean, hun?” Cam asks handing her another napkin. “You had Olivia with no problems, what’s changed?”
Accepting the napkin, Carly dabs her cheeks and eyes before taking a deep breath to gather a reply. “The doctor called it secondary infertility. I guess it’s more common than you would think. Jack and I have been trying for almost a year to get pregnant again, and nothing. There can be lots of reasons for it and we can try lots of things fertility-wise to get pregnant.”
“So there you go,” I say, squeezing her hand. “There are still options, it just might be a little more difficult than the first time.”
She shakes her head and looks down at the table again. “No,” she sighs. “Jack told me after the appointment that he doesn’t want to try anything. He’s done, and wants us to move on with our lives. Content with how things are.”
“What?” I shout. “That is fucked up of him. If he wanted to be ball-less, all he had to do is ask. I’d gladly fuck up his area, one short and curly at a time.” Vivian gives me her best stern mother look to get me to settle down. Cam looks around the coffee shop and begins to quietly apologize for my verbal diarrhea.
“I know, right. That is super fucked up,” Carly finally announces, just as loudly as my outburst. “I love him, but what an asshole!” she adds. Vivian gasps, Cam’s eyes bulge out of her head, and I can’t help but laugh. Carly does not cuss…at all. In fact, she hates when anyone around her uses foul language. She looks around the table at the wide array of reactions to her potty mouth slip-up and she too begins to laugh.
As upset as she is, I think a little of the weight of the situation has been lifted with our laughter. These women truly are my sisters. After walking away from my parents and their money, they are the only family I have, other than Aunt Maggie. It hurts me to see one of them hurt, and this situation only highlights that for me. As much as I like Brooks and Jack, if they ever betrayed my girls, I’d be the first one there with a shovel to help hide the body. If Campbell ever settled down and brought a man into our circle, I would offer her the same service. However, as much as I love them, and I know they love me, I’ve never felt confident enough to tell them the one thing I fear would change everything. Now, after hearing this from Carly, I know I have to bury my secret even further. I can’t risk losing them.