“Carla!” Janice said.
Maurine looked to Janice. “You’re going to let her kick me out of your house? Fine. I was leaving anyway. I’ve seen enough to make me sick for several lifetimes.”
She turned and stalked out of the bedroom. Janice jumped from the bed and gave chase, bedsheet clutched to her chest, trailing along behind her.
“Maurine, wait. Mo, don’t go, Mo!”
Carla could hear them talking but she couldn’t make out what was being said. She quickly dressed, anger still boiling in her belly. The nerve. The fucking nerve of Maurine to march in there with her assumptions and accusations and then insist that she’s the one who really knows how Janice feels.
Who does she think she is?
Deep down she knew why Maurine was behaving the way she was. She was scared. Shocked and scared. She’d already felt threatened by Janice and Carla’s friendship, as if that would somehow diminish the close friendship she and Janice had, and then she walks in on this. She must be beyond terrified of losing Janice now. From her viewpoint, she’d just been horribly betrayed.
Even so, she shouldn’t have reacted like she did.
But honestly, Carla knew she’d reacted rather poorly herself with some of the things she’d said.
She sat at the foot of the bed and slipped on her shoes. She buried her head in her hands, trying to fend off an impending headache and heard the front door slam. A few seconds later, she heard a car peel out. When she looked up Janice was standing in the room, eyes and cheeks red and wet with tears.
Carla tried to go to her, but Janice held out her hand, stopping her.
“No, Carla. No. Just—”
“Just what?” She took another step. Janice moved away. “Janice.”
“No. You’ve done enough.”
“Me? What the hell did I do? I just reacted, Janice. I was just as thrown as you were.”
“You told her to get the fuck out of my house for one thing.”
“I was standing up for us, Janice. She was insulting and attacking us.”
“I don’t need protecting, Carla. And she wasn’t attacking me.”
“Oh, she wasn’t, was she? Telling us both how it is you feel isn’t insulting? Accusing me of seducing you like I had some sort of sinister plot, like you are some kind of stupid and naive and helpless little woman isn’t insulting? She was seriously out of line, Janice. And I did what needed to be done. I stood up for us.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need you to. I don’t want you too.”
What?
Carla held up her palms. “Okay, don’t worry, I won’t. You want to continue to stand in silence and let someone else tell you who you truly are, then you go ahead. I, however, will not. I refuse. And I thought you—I thought you were strong enough to refuse too.”
“Well, I guess I’m not, Carla. Okay? I guess I’m not strong and brave and willing to face off with my lifelong best friend when she’s obviously shocked and overwhelmed and confused.”
“She was shocked, yes. But she wasn’t confused. She saw. She knew. She understood. She just refused to accept it. And that’s her problem, not ours.”
“No, it’s my problem, Carla. Not ours. Mine. You’ve had years to come to terms with who you are and the freedom to do so in your own time and way. Me—I’m—this is new and I’m here, surrounded by everyone I’ve ever known and loved and they don’t get this. I don’t have the luxury of being three thousand miles away to give a damn whether or not they do or ever will.”
“What are you saying?”
She shook her head. “I’m saying I’m not like you. I can’t just blurt out how I feel. I can’t just come out.”
“You can, Janice, but you won’t. And that’s been the issue all along, hasn’t it? That’s why you fought your feelings so hard and tried to keep them hidden. But you couldn’t, could you? Because they were eating you alive inside. And my being here, being so close only made it worse, didn’t it? Now I wonder, though, had I not felt for you and been so inquisitive, would you ever have let any of this out? Or would you have continued on with your big secret, living a loveless, passionless life, just like you did with your husband?”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s the truth though, isn’t it? If I’m wrong, tell me.”
“Sometimes the truth needs to be brought to light carefully, considerately. Not shoved in someone’s face. Especially when it might hurt them.”
“You’re referring to Maurine, once again dancing around yourself. But what about you, Janice? What about your pain? Why does your hurting come second to everyone else’s?”
She looked away.
“When are you going to put your feelings first? Insist on your own happiness? Haven’t you waited long enough?” Carla stood before her. Reached out and gently touched her face. “Hiding who you are…it’s no way to live, Janice. I speak from experience.”
“It’s not that simple for me.”
“No, it’s not easy. But it beats the alternative. Wouldn’t you rather face your fears and come out the other side to live in happiness, instead of letting those fears win out and keep you in misery?”
“Of course. I want happiness. I want you—I just—don’t think I can have it.”
“Why? Because you’re scared?”
She looked at her. “Yes, because I’m scared. And because you—”
Carla waited. “Because I what?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just think what you want.”
“Are you really that scared and worried about everyone’s reaction or are you using it as an excuse to avoid having to admit to and accept the truth yourself?”
“That was mean, Carla.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. It just seems to be very difficult for you to admit your feelings. And even more difficult for you to act on them.”
“You don’t know,” she said. “You don’t know me.”
“Janice, I’ve seen it. Think about how hard it was for you to confess your feelings for me? To even act on them? You fought it like hell, even when it was plainly obvious, and I tried my very best to make you feel comfortable enough to do so. Jesus, Janice, I had to literally grab you and kiss you before you would admit it. To me, and I think, to yourself. Because having the feelings is one thing. You can hide them and keep them to yourself. But admitting them and acting on them? That’s a whole other ball game isn’t it? Because you can’t take back words and actions. Once they’re out, they’re out. And that scares you.”
Janice was quiet and Carla felt helpless at the sadness and defeat that resonated from her. It broke her heart.
“What can I do?” she asked softly. “How can I help, Janice? I’ll do anything. Just, tell me. You want me to go talk to Maurine? Apologize for telling her to get out? I will.”
“No. No don’t do that. Just—”
“Yes?”
“I need to be alone.”
Carla felt her body deflate like the words had pierced her new little world of happiness. She questioned her, desperate for clarification. Desperate to hear that she didn’t really mean what Carla feared she meant. “For what, a few hours? I can do that. I can take the truck and—”