Best Friends & Other Liars Page 9

  Again…I remember the fight Richard and I had yesterday and I bite my lip so I don’t cry. The horrible things he said, and what it means for our marriage when I return. For the first time, it really, truly hits me—I might not be a married woman for much longer. This “single” life that Leah lives might suddenly become my reality.

  Despite my best efforts, tears spring to my eyes as the bartender slides the martinis across the bar, along with a slip of paper.

  “It’s all inclusive, but just need you to sign and put the room number you’re in,” he tells me. “So you don’t have to cry.” He chuckles. I think he is under the impression that he’s making a joke.

  “I’m not crying,” I lie while signing the slip of paper and writing 2525 on the line designated for the room number. I ignore the space where the word tip is written. Here’s a tip, stop looking at blonde bimbos that bounce by.

  I can’t even believe my own vicious thoughts as I swig down the remains of my drink. It must be the effects of the alcohol making me so angry.

  “You okay?” he asks as I pick up the martinis.

  “I don’t want to be divorced!” I hear myself wail, drinks midair, liquid sloshing over the side.

  The bartender watches the drinks he just poured run down onto my hands. He reaches across the bar and grabs the stems of the glasses and sets the drinks back down on the bar.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, awkwardly patting my back as I practically throw myself face down on the bar.

  “It’s horrible!” I sob. “Divorce is absolutely horrible! I can’t even imagine how people get through the day when they have to live with the fact that the person who promised to love them forever can’t even be nice enough to them to eat dinner together!”

  I can’t see the bartender’s face, but I’m sure he is rolling his eyes at this overly hysterical woman at his bar.

  “Hey, I get it. I’m divorced too,” he tells me.

  My head snaps up and I stare at this guy who looks like he is still in high school. “You are?” I ask in amazement. “You’re just a baby.”

  He laughs. “I’m actually thirty-four. Married my high school sweetheart right after graduation. Two kids, ten years, and a lot of fights later we realized we should have lived a little before getting married. Now I’m on this cruise ship seeing the world, and she’s basically taking my paycheck.” He shrugs as if to say what can you do?

  “Oh wow,” is all I can say, properly admonished. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Just assuming, I guess. I figured you didn’t know what you were talking about.”

  He waves his hand in front of his face. “No problem. Hey, at least you’re in good company on this cruise. Everyone in this room is going through the same thing you are.” He sweeps his hand over the entire cocktail lounge.

  “They are?” I ask incredulously.

  How does he know this? And how could it possibly be true? There’s no way everyone in this room had a fight with their spouse before leaving and their entire marriage is hanging in the balance.

  “Yup. That’s the good thing about going on a divorce cruise,” he tells me with a smile.

  If I had been chewing food or drinking the remains of my Cosmo, I probably would have choked to death right then and there.

  “A what?” I ask, certain my ears are playing tricks on me.

  “Divorce cruise,” he repeats.

  I feel like I am under water, his words taking on a slow and deliberate warbled tone. I think my jaw drops onto the bar top.

  Taking in the shocked look on my face he asks, “You did know that this was a divorce cruise, right?”

  “Um, of course,” I stammer, not quite sure how to answer. I try to play it off. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Well yeah. When you sign up you have to check the disclaimer. But you won’t believe how many people pretend they’re divorced just to come on this cruise.”

  I stare at him. “Why? Why would anyone pretend to be divorced?” It sounds like a horrible thing to do.

  “Well, some single people don’t understand that going through a divorce is traumatic and they’re just looking to score with vulnerable people. Mostly men.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “And this cruise is cheaper than some of the singles cruises we run,” the bartender points out.

  It immediately dawns on me. Leah knew about the divorce cruise, but she signed us up for it anyway...just to save some money.

  “It’ll be fun,” the bartender assures me. “You’ll have a blast.”

  Leah chooses that very moment to glance over at me to signal for help once again. She can’t see me, but I narrow my eyes at her as I reply to the bartender, “Oh, I’m sure that I will.”

  I grab the martinis and head toward Leah. I’m going to make her sorry for this if it’s the last thing I do.

  LEAH

  Violet is stomping towards me with two drinks in her hand. They’re sloshing over the sides of the glasses and she looks pissed. Actually, to a casual observer, she looks absolutely fine, smiling amicably as she approaches. But I’ve known her for almost thirty years and I can see that her smile is forced and tight-lipped. There’s a fire flickering in her eyes, and if they could burn a hole in my body, I’d be evaporated by now, slowly burnt from the inside out. I can see that from across the room. And she thinks I need glasses—ha!

  “Hi!” she says cheerily when she reaches the table, her eyes belying her bright expression. She sets the drinks on the table and both men completely ignore them as they continue to take turns peppering me with ridiculous questions about my imaginary law practice.

  Quite honestly, I’m surprised how much I excel at the art of lying through my teeth. I’ve got both these guys believing I’m a bonafide lawyer. It’s actually kind of fun—I mean, considering I’m definitely not interested in either of them. Ick at that thought. It’s quite liberating when I’m not trying to impress anyone and I can just play along.

  But Vi definitely has something else in mind as she grabs at my sleeve. “Didn’t you say our dinner was at eight o’clock?”

  “Um, yeah,” I mutter, glancing at the delicate white gold watch on my wrist. It was a gift from Vi for my thirtieth birthday. “But it’s only seven-thirty right now. It should only take five minutes to get to the restaurant.”

  “Oh, I think we need to stop back at the room for something first,” Vi tells me, her eyes narrowing, fury evident.

  Oh crap, the rage! I haven’t seen her this angry since Carl Henderson snapped her bra during history class in tenth grade.

  “No, we don’t,” I protest, suddenly afraid of my friend. She cracked Carl over the head with her Trapper Keeper that day in history and he had ended up with a concussion. He spent a week at home in a darkened room, trying to recover from the constant migraines. Violet did not get mad often, but when she did...well, you better protect your balls. And your brain.

  “Oh, yes we do,” she insists, practically yanking me off my chair.

  “Do you have to go so soon?” Adam asks. Or maybe it’s George. I don’t know. They’re both gross—it’s hard to tell them apart.

  “Yes, we do,” Vi says pointedly as she succeeds in yanking me off of the bar stool. “Enjoy your martinis,” she adds as digs her fingers into my arm.

  “What is wrong with you?” I hiss as I am dragged out of the room. I think part of my shoe heel has broken off—it feels funny as it scrapes across the carpet. “Could you slow down?”

  “Oh no,” Vi says between clenched teeth. “You definitely don’t want this...shit storm to explode in the hallway. You want to make it back to the room before it unloads on you. Trust me on this one.”

  I gulp. Things are bad if Violet has used the word shit. I’m pretty sure she can’t even say shiitake mushroom without apologizing. She definitely does not curse.

  “You want to tell me what this is about at least?” I ask as I limp along. She is practically running back to the room.r />
  “No. I don’t. And you don’t want me to talk about it until we’re out of earshot of everybody on this boat. Unless, of course, you want everyone to know what a ginormous liar you are.”

  My heart stops.

  Oh crap. She knows. I knew I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight. I bet someone at the bar told her.

  “Listen, Vi—”

  “Shut up!” she commands as we reach our room. I swear she looks completely manic. A group of women passing by in the hall gawk at us as Vi shoves her keycard in the door and pushes it open with her foot, pulling me in behind her.

  I collapse on the bed, rubbing my arm once she releases it. “Seriously, you didn’t have to—”

  She stands in front of me, hands planted on her hips, steam nearly seeping out of her ears. “I didn’t have to what, Leah? Come on this cruise for divorced people with you?”

  I scoot back on the bed—she looks like she wants to karate chop me in the face...with her foot. “Vi, I was gonna tell you—”

  “When were you going to tell me? When some slimy old guy tries to feel me up when we’re having cocktails in a bar because he thinks I’m some poor, pathetic, single forty-year-old?”

  My mouth is hanging open. Poor, pathetic, single forty-year-old? Is she talking about me? I stare at her for a second before thinking, No, wait. She can’t be talking about me. I’m not forty yet. She must be talking about herself. Right?

  “Is this one of your pathetic ploys to attract and hook up with men? ‘Cuz I’ve gotta say, Leah, it’s pretty desperate, even for you.”

  Oh shit. She is talking about me.

  “Vi, I didn't even realize it was a divorce cruise till I paid for it! (Slight lie.) And Troy got me such a good deal on it, I thought it would be criminal to turn it down. (Totally the truth.) You’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I didn’t think this would be a problem.” (Definitely a lie there…)

  “You didn’t think it would be a problem? You didn’t think this would be a problem?” She stares at me, mouth agape for a moment before she scoffs, “No, of course not. You wouldn’t think it was a problem because you have no problem lying and deceiving people.”

  “I don’t deceive people!” I jump to my feet, planting my own hands on my hips.

  “Did you know about this cruise? I mean, did you know it was a cruise for divorced people before we boarded?” Vi challenges.

  “Well yeah, but—”

  “Did you tell me it was a cruise for divorced people before we boarded?”

  “No, but—”

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit to you evidence number one,” she says while holding my gaze with a beady stare. “Oh look, you can try out your fake lawyer skills.”

  What is happening here? Vi is never like this! I am seriously worried about how this is going to play out. Will she try to catch a plane home when we dock at our first port of call? I can’t let that happen. I’m going to have to lie here.

  I know, I know...lying got me into this predicament to begin with, but this is only a temporary lie and I’ll fix it as soon as possible.

  I grab her hands and pull her toward me. She grimaces, but she allows me to touch her.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been having a lot of trouble with money lately and I really wanted to give you a memorable birthday present. Troy offered me a deal on this cruise, and by the time I found out it was a divorce cruise, it was too late to back out.”

  Only about fifteen to nineteen percent lie. I did want to give her a memorable birthday gift. And Troy did get me an amazing discount. But I’m not having money problems. And I knew it was a divorce cruise before I paid.

  “But Leah, I told you that you didn’t have to get me anything, let alone this extravagant gift!” she practically wails.

  I grasp her hands tighter, before she can pull away. “I know, I know, but you’ve got to understand how I feel next to you.”

  “Okay, what does that even mean?” she asks, wriggling out of my grasp and sinking down on the bed.

  “It means...well, quite frankly, I’m jealous of you and...Richard.” I don’t look at her—I can barely spit out his name. I don’t usually have trouble covering up my true feelings for people when I despise them, but when I have to pretend to have any emotion, other than absolute disdain or hatred for Richard, it’s difficult.

  “Jealous? Jealous of what?” Vi asks, voice rising an octave. I can tell her interest is piqued. She doesn’t completely believe me yet, so I need to dig deep into the recesses of my brain and unearth the three months of acting lessons I had when I was twelve before my mom ripped up the invoice from the acting coach and declared it a giant waste of money.

  I stand up and slowly trail my finger over the dresser/ TV stand/ vanity. “Just the fact that you guys seem to have it all,” I say in a non-committal tone.

  “Have it all? Are you crazy, Leah? Don’t you remember the circumstances under which I left for this trip?”

  “I don’t mean relationship wise. Or maybe I do. At least you have a relationship. And kids.” I stop in front of the mirror and peek at her to gauge her reaction. She seems very concerned. “Here I am, almost forty and I’ve never been married, I’m never gonna have kids...I’m never gonna have half of what you have.” I whirl around and wave my hand aimlessly in the air. “You’ve had everything you’ve ever hoped for and I’ve got none of that. And I most likely never will. Kids, I definitely won’t have. My biological clock is running out of time faster than a death row inmate.”

  Violet shakes her head in disgust. “That’s a really bad analogy, Leah. Like, really bad.”

  I shrug as I turn around. “Well, that’s probably why you’re married and a mother, and I’m a single woman just trying to one-up her friend by giving her the vacation of a lifetime for her fortieth birthday. You have couth and I’m just a loser.”

  She sighs and reaches out to grab my hands this time. “You’re not a loser. You’re my best friend and I won’t have anyone talking about my best friend like that.”

  “Even me?” I ask, grabbing the origami swan from the bed.

  “Even you.”

  “I’m sorry, Vi,” I apologize, not sure what I’m actually apologizing for.

  “I know,” she sighs. “I just wish you would have told me the truth. I can’t believe I let you pay for this cruise. You’re going to have to let me pay for—”

  I put my hand up. I definitely do not want her to push the money issue. Considering it’s not really an issue. “It’s not a big deal. I paid because I was afraid you’d say no otherwise. And it was hard enough to get you to say yes to begin with.”

  “You’re right about that. I would have said no,” she points out. “I’m married Leah. I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be on a divorce cruise.”

  “Well weren’t you practically considering divorce yesterday?” I ask, cocking my eyebrow.

  Violet sighs. “In a way. Divorce…” her voice cracks slightly, “might be in my future. I think it really might be. But considering divorce and actually being divorced are two different things. And it doesn’t matter what I think. I have to consider Richard’s thoughts on the matter.”

  “Oh, to hell with Richard,” I scoff.

  “Leah,” Violet warns. “He’s my husband.”

  “For now,” I mumble.

  She ignores my comment. “I just don’t think considering a divorce is grounds for going on a cruise for divorced people. I mean, I feel a little uncomfortable with all these people that are in a different part of their lives. Don’t you feel weird being one of the only people here that isn’t actually divorced? Even the bartender is divorced.”

  I shrug. I hadn’t really thought about it that way. I was just interested in going on a cheap cruise. And maybe meeting a nice guy to hook up with in the process.

  As if she can read my mind, Vi says, “I’m not hooking up with any guys, Leah. I’m married.” She points her finger at me. “And don’t say for now because that is co
mpletely irrelevant.”

  “Well, we’re here now. Not much we can do about it,” I remind her. “We should just enjoy the vacation aspect of this cruise and ignore the whole divorce angle.” I waggle my eyebrows at her, a move that always makes her laugh. Today is no exception.

  “That’s true. We might as well enjoy ourselves.”

  “You mean that?”

  She pauses for a minute before answering.

  “Yes, yes I do. Now, what’s on the agenda tonight?” she asks, standing up and smoothing down her dress. “I’ve never been on a divorce cruise and I’m not sure I ever will again, so we might as well make the best of it.”

  I beam as I pull the itinerary out of my purse and hand it to her to peruse.

  “Dinner,” she says, and she reads the names of the people we’re eating with. “We don’t know any of these people do we?” she asks me, glancing up, panicked like a deer in headlights.

  “It’ll be fine,” I assure her. “It’s not like the cocktails. Most of the time you eat with other people on cruise ships. It’s because people want to eat at a decent hour, so they stick everyone at bigger tables to make it go faster.”

  She chews her lip nervously as she hands the paper back to me.

  “You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to,” I say, trying to comfort her. “I’ll do all the talking.”

  She snorts. “Of course you will. You always do.”

  I make a face, trying to pretend I’m hurt by her statement, but both of us know it’s true. I’m definitely the more outgoing one between the two of us.

  She shakes her head. “I’m kidding. It’ll be fun. I don’t get to venture outside of my comfort zone all that often,” she says, while pasting on a smile I know is one hundred percent false. Typical Violet—she’s going to suck it up and try to have fun despite her discomfort and despite the fact that I lied to her.

  I’m the worst best friend ever.

  VIOLET

  I stare at Leah on the dance floor, wiggling her butt in the air, or as the song suggests, “shaking her rump”. This night—scratch that—this entire trip has been interminably long.