Jerry had a face like a ham hock, sweaty and pink. He’s definitely not what I’d call handsome, but his close-set brown eyes were kind, and his mischievous, joker-like smile was undoubtedly his most attractive feature. The three of us had been friends for nearly a decade now, working together at the same marketing firm.
For the longest time, I thought Jerry and Pam had a “thing”, but she had assured me it was never like that. If Jerry dated, Pam and I didn’t know about it. He seemed perfectly content with being single.
“Happy birthday, love,” Jerry scooped me into a hug, lifting my feet off the ground as he did so.
“Oh, wow. Someone’s excited tonight,” Pam teased.
“Thanks, Jerry,” I said, adjusting my skirt as he dropped me back down on the pavement.
“I saw you this morning, remember? He already wished me a happy birthday like fifty times,” I told Pam.
“Yeah, but you know how it is. Nothing at work feels real. Now we can really celebrate. The big four-oh! It’s supposed to be a big one, you know …” Jerry held open the entrance door for Pam and me.
“I can’t stay long,” I tried to tell them, but I was hit with a blast of live music and people chattering. Trying to talk now was like screaming into a deep dark void.
Jerry pointed through the crowd at an open table near the bar, but away from the band, and Pam and I led the way.
“Wow. I can’t believe this place gets so crowded. Definitely different than the lunch crowd,” I shouted, taking a seat at the four-person table. I hopped up on one of the stools and tried to scoot in closer to the table. The seats were so high that my feet dangled several inches from the ground.
“So, what did you and Delaney do for your birthday? Anything?” Jerry asked, leaning in, his expression hopeful. He was sitting across from me, Pam at his elbow. They were sitting so close to one another, and, once again, it crossed my mind that they were a couple. If not, maybe they should be …
“No, nothing. Although we wouldn’t have had time to anyway.” I brought him up to speed on what had happened to Samantha.
Our waitress swooped in, taking our drink order.
“Serves her right,” Jerry mumbled under his breath. He adjusted the sugar packets on the table and rearranged the bottles of ketchup and steak sauce.
“Jerry don’t say that,” Pam slapped his arm and widened her eyes at me.
“Well, it’s true. She stole Ivy’s husband. You can’t shit on people like that and expect karma not to rear up sooner or later …”
My mind wandered back to the day Michael had told me ‘I’ve met someone. I think you and I both know it’s for the best …’ He was no nonchalant when he said it and I instantly felt too foolish to speak the truth – that I was shocked. In fact, I felt completely blindsided by it.
I’d thought things were okay between us, better than okay, actually.
The waitress returned with a tray full of drinks. She placed our drinks neatly in front of us on matching coasters. An amaretto sour for me. Dark Belgian beers for Jerry and Pam.
We clinked our glasses together jovially, then I took a long swig of mine. My cheeks puckered and I set the drink back down on the table.
“First of all, nobody stole Michael from me. He chose to go on his own. And although I’m not crazy about Samantha, Laney is. She likes her, and right now, Laney doesn’t like much of anyone. So, I can’t, in good conscience, ever wish ill of Michael’s wife.”
Pam and Jerry exchanged looks, clearly impressed.
I must admit, I was impressed myself.
I sat up straighter and took another sip of the acidic drink.
I meant what I said. I don’t want anything bad to happen to Laney’s stepmom. But a few years ago, that wouldn’t have been the case.
“I’m proud of you. You’ve really turned over a new leaf, my friend.” Pam reached across the table and squeezed my hand. The gesture was kind and I was surprised to feel my eyes watering uncontrollably.
Jerry tapped my toe under the table and smiled. Just like that, I felt my shoulders loosen, the tension in my stomach easing.
It’s my birthday. And I have two awesome friends here with me. Hell, I might be forty and I might be divorced, but I like my job and I love my friends. And most importantly, I still have Laney, even if she’s going through a rebellious teenage phase …
“Speaking of new leaves, Pam and I have something to tell you,” Jerry said, out of the blue.
I watched my two best friends exchange smirky little smiles again.
Were they finally going to admit that they were dating?
“Well, come on then. Spill those guts,” I teased, sloshing the ice around in my drink with a straw. I could already feel a smidge of heartburn rising from my stomach.
“We sort of … well, we did a thing. For your birthday, Ivy,” Pam grimaced.
“Oh?” I said, slightly disappointed.
I’m not a fan of gifts or big displays of affection.
Jerry and Pam knew that better than anyone.
Jerry took out his shiny black Android, flashed another knowing smile at Pam, then set his phone down on the table. He clicked the home button and slid it across the table toward me.
I stared at the screen and blinked. My own face peered back at me.
“What is this?”
I recognized the picture: me, in a slim-fitting cocktail dress, cleavage propped up more than usual. Pam had taken the photo at last year’s Christmas party; it was one of those rare pictures that turned out well only because I wasn’t trying too hard to smile, or to get the right angle. She’d sent it to me last year, encouraging me to use it as my profile pic on Facebook. I had considered it, but ultimately, decided not to. I looked too carefree and silly in the photo.
“Scroll down.” Jerry tapped his pointer finger on the table, excitedly. He looked all too pleased with himself.
A flicker of irritation rolled through me.
What the hell had they gone and done now?
I did what he said and scrolled.
Ivy, 30, from Madison, Indiana
Likes: camping trips, boating, scary movies, thriller novels
“Camping? Thriller novels? What the hell is this, guys? And you put my age down as 30! Why?” I was laughing, but my face felt hot.
My best friends set me up a dating profile! It doesn’t get more pathetic than that …
“You can change it up any way you’d like. It’s not live yet, so don’t be mad. We just thought it’d be good for you, ya know? You’re kind and funny, not to mention smoking hot … and you deserve to have some fun,” Pam gushed. She scanned my face, waiting for my approval.
“You guys suck, you know that?” I covered my face with my hands, rubbing them up and down.
“Here’s the log-in information and password. You can change anything you’d like. We added some more stuff about you, too … and there are two more pictures on there.” Jerry passed me a yellow sticky note with the words IvyGirl807 and 35818 written on it in his sloppy scrawl.
I snatched the note up and jammed it inside the purse on the stool beside me.
Our waitress had reappeared, this time with a steaming white plate of mussels.
“Ooh, that’s a great picture of you,” she crooned, wiggling her brows at the photo displayed on Jerry’s phone.