The Friendship List

“Unity?”

Unity realized everyone was looking at her. She glanced at Carmen. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“I could tell. Want to talk about it?”

“She’s thinking about Stuart,” Veronica, a short, plump woman in her seventies said with an eye roll. “It’s what she’s always thinking about.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him,” Unity said, surprised by the harsh statement. “Although this is a grief group. Isn’t dealing with the loss of my husband the point?”

The pain of missing him joined her regret and guilt about Ellen. None of this was supposed to have happened, she thought bitterly. She was supposed to be happily married and the mother of two or three kids by now. But she was left with nothing but memories and the flag that had draped his coffin.

Veronica sighed heavily. “No, it’s not. Because you’re not dead yet, despite how you act. Yes, you lost your husband, and it’s tragic, but come on. You’re not the only one. We’ve all lost someone. You’re acting like this is some unique event only you have experienced. It’s not like your pain is any bigger than ours, no matter how much you love reveling in it.”

“All right,” Carmen said. “That was a little bit more of a response than I was hoping for.”

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Veronica asked, motioning to the group.

To Unity’s surprise and discomfort, several people murmured words of agreement.

Unity folded her arms across her chest as if she could protect herself from the biting assessments. “But Stuart was my husband.”

“Like Veronica said, we’ve all lost someone,” Edward reminded her. “That’s why we’re here.”

“It’s called moving on after loss,” Veronica said. “Be grateful for what you were given. Not living your life is a dumb ass way to spend your day.”

Carmen sighed. “Veronica, we’ve talked about this.”

“What? I can’t say dumb ass? Really? Is anyone here genuinely offended?”

Unity wanted to say she was, but she was too focused on surviving the unexpected attack.

“I’m not stuck,” she whispered.

Carmen gave her a sympathetic look. “Are you sure?”

Unity wanted to say she was happy loving Stuart, even if he wasn’t with her anymore, but knew that would open her to another round of blunt statements she couldn’t stand to hear. She felt raw and exposed and she wished she’d stayed home.

“Your points are good ones,” she lied, just wanting them to focus on someone else. Their words made her feel raw and unwelcome and way too close to losing control.

Carmen seemed to sense that and changed the subject. Unity got through the rest of the meeting. When it was over, she hurried to her van and drove home. Her stomach ached, her head pounded and she felt like she could throw up, but worst of all she wanted to call Ellen and tell her what had happened and she couldn’t because they were fighting.

The enormity of that slammed into her, making her eyes fill with tears even as her body seemed to contract in on itself. She felt like a squashed bug—all flat and bleeding. Her chest got so tight, she couldn’t breathe.

Ellen was her family. Unity couldn’t remember a time when she and Ellen hadn’t been friends. She also couldn’t remember them ever fighting—certainly not as adults.

She sat at the kitchen table and replayed the early morning conversation in her head. Ellen had been upset about Cooper and had wanted help. Ellen had needed her and she hadn’t been there.

No wonder Ellen had felt dismissed and ignored. Unity of all people should have seen that.

She sat up straight. What if the fight had ruined everything? What if their relationship could never be made right? What if it was broken beyond repair?

Panic seized her, forcing her to her feet. But when she was standing, she didn’t know what to do. How could she show Ellen she understood and was sorry? Because she was sorry and she was scared. More scared than she’d ever been because whenever she’d faced something bad, she’d known Ellen would be there for her, no matter what, and she didn’t have that certainty anymore.

An apology was required, but that didn’t help Ellen. Not really. There had to be another solution—one that made Ellen feel heard and maybe fixed the problem.

Unity walked into her small office. She pulled out a pad of paper and reached for a pen. Ellen needed to convince Cooper she had a life, even though she didn’t. Which meant she had to start doing things to show him she had things she looked forward to, like going out and dressing in clothes that fit and—

Unity started making a list of ways Ellen could change her life. When she’d nearly filled a page with items—some helpful, some ridiculous—she studied it. There were a few good ideas here. She should tell Ellen how she could fix the problem.

“Because people love to be told what to do?” she murmured aloud, thinking about how she’d been attacked at her grief group.

She thought about what people had said. She hadn’t enjoyed everyone piling on her, as if she were the only one with a problem. It wasn’t as if they had their acts together either.

Unity started a second list—this one about herself. She took some items from Ellen’s list and added a few others for herself.

She knew she had zero interest in changing. She didn’t want to heal and move on, but that wasn’t the point. She needed her friend back more than she needed to breathe. She’d hurt Ellen and now they were fighting. Unity would do anything to make that right. She didn’t have to believe—she just had to convince Ellen she believed. And maybe this was a start.

By late afternoon Ellen had lost her mad and she just missed Unity. The fight had been stupid. She and Unity had been friends forever. Shouldn’t they do better than they had that morning?

She was just about to call and say that when Cooper walked into the living room, a basketball under one arm, his dark hair falling in his eyes.

“I’m meeting Luka at the park,” he said, looking more like a kid than a young man in his baggy shorts and oversize T-shirt. “Then we’re going back to his place for a barbecue. I’ll be home by eleven.”

She smiled at him. “Have fun.”

“I will.” He hesitated, his blue eyes darkened with concern. “What are you going to do, Mom?”

As in it was a Saturday night and she was a carefree single woman who should have plans. Plans that made her sound like she didn’t need her teenage son worrying about her.

She waved her cell phone. “I’m about to call Unity. We’re, ah, going to hang out with some friends.” She tried to look amused. “Sort of an old people party.”

Coop looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

“You, too.”

He left. Seconds later, she heard his car start up. When he’d pulled out of the driveway, she told herself at least half of the statement had been true—she was going to call Unity.

But before she could dial, her phone rang. She glanced at the unfamiliar number.

“Hello?”

“Ellen, it’s Jeremy.”

Who? She didn’t know any...

Crap, crap, crap. Actually she did know a Jeremy, or she had back in high school. They’d dated for a month, he’d gotten her pregnant and then he’d disappeared. Since then she’d heard from him every five or so years. He asked about Coop but never wanted to see him. She supposed every now and then the guilt got to him.

“This is unexpected,” she said.

“I know. How are you?”

“Good and you?”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence. She heard him clear his throat.

“I, ah, I’ve been thinking about what happened all those years ago. About Cooper and how he’s doing. I’m in a different place now and thought maybe, if you wouldn’t mind, I could meet him.”

If Ellen had been standing, she would have fallen. Or fainted.

“He’s seventeen. He’s practically an adult and you just now want to meet him?” She knew she sounded shrill, but was the man on crack? “You signed your rights away before he was born. You walked out on me and him. You’ve shown absolutely no interest in him.”

Something she’d had to explain to her son over the years, when he’d asked about his father. She’d always had to go out of her way to make sure Jeremy wasn’t the bad guy. She’d always had to take the high ground and say things like he hadn’t been ready to be a father and no, she hadn’t been disappointed to be physically and emotionally abandoned as she’d gone through her senior year of high school pregnant.

“People change, Ellen.”

“Oh, do they?”

“I can see you’re still upset. I suppose you have reason to be. You’re right—I have no legal rights, but he is my son and I was hoping I could get to know him.”

She wanted to tell him not a chance. That he didn’t deserve to know Cooper or have anything to do with him. That neither of them was interested. Only she knew that last one wasn’t true. Cooper might not show it, but she knew he was curious about his father, and in her gut, she was pretty sure he would like a chance to meet him.

“Are you still there?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes.”

Why did she always have to be the adult in the room?

“I need to think about this,” she said.

“Of course. Let me give you my contact information.”

She got up and walked into the kitchen where she grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, then scribbled down his number and email address.

“I’d really like a second chance with him,” Jeremy told her.

She thought about how alone she’d felt as she’d struggled as a single parent, how much he’d missed and how bitterly unfair his request was, and then she remembered Coop.

“I’ll get back to you,” she told him. “Give me a few days.”

“Thank you, Ellen.”

She hung up and swore. Now? Did this have to be happening now?

Her phone rang again. She answered without looking at the screen.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” Unity said. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Relief eased the tightness in her chest. “Only if you promise to come over and get drunk with me.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“The front door is open.”

Ellen dug out a frozen pizza and turned on the oven, then opened a bottle of red wine. When she heard the door open, she ran out of her kitchen and met Unity in the living room where they hugged each other tight.

“I’m sorry,” Unity said, tears filling her eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have understood. I should have listened.”

“No, it was me. I was so upset that I lashed out. I’m sorry. I was insensitive about Stuart. I hurt you.”

“No, I hurt you.”

They looked at each other, then hugged again. Ellen hung on, feeling her world right itself.

“I’ve had a horrible day,” she admitted.

“Me, too. I missed you. I can’t believe we had a fight.”

“I can’t, either. Let’s promise to never do it again.”

They smiled at each other.

“Deal,” Unity said.

They linked arms and walked into the kitchen. After taking a seat at the table, Ellen poured them each a glass of wine. Unity sat across from her, her expression sad.

“I really am sorry.”

“Me, too. I’m okay if you’re okay.”

Unity hesitated, then nodded.

“You sure?” Ellen asked.

“Yes. I’m fine, or I will be.” She bit her bottom lip. “I was thinking about what you said about Coop and how you’re worried about him. Plus what you said about me.”

Ellen winced. “Do we have to talk about that?”

“I’m not complaining. I have an idea.” Unity pulled a pad of paper out of her large handbag and slid it across to the table.

Ellen glanced down. “The Friendship List?” She looked at her friend. “What is that?”

“So you need to convince Coop that you’re totally fine on your own and I maybe need to get out of my rut.”

Ellen wanted to tease that maybe wasn’t the right word, but knew it was too soon. “Okay. And?”

“And we do it together. We make a pact to challenge each other to use the summer to make some changes. Cooper won’t apply to colleges until the fall, so there’s time for you to show him you have a life. Let’s take advantage of that. We would each have a list of things to do and whoever does the most wins.”

“Like a game show?”

“Kind of. The winner treats the loser to a weekend at the Salish Lodge.”

That caught Ellen’s attention. She and Unity had been talking about a girlfriends’ weekend at the Lodge forever. The Salish Lodge was an upscale resort on the Seattle side of the mountains. There was a spa, a couple of great restaurants and amazing views of Snoqualmie Falls. But the glorious accommodations came with a price tag her schoolteacher’s salary couldn’t afford very easily.

“I could really get into a spa weekend,” she said slowly.

“Me, too. And regardless of who wins, going away will help convince Cooper that you’re really okay without him.”

It was an interesting idea. Ellen knew Unity wasn’t the only one in a rut. As she’d been unable to come up with a single idea to fix things with Coop, she was willing to give this a try.

“What about you?” Ellen asked. “Do you want to change? I’m not trying to start anything, but you haven’t even hinted that you’re looking for more than you have.”

“I know, but what I’m doing isn’t working.” She reached for her wine. “I got thrown out of the pickleball league.”

“What? How could that happen? You’re a star player.”

Unity’s mouth twisted. “That was part of the problem. I was told that I’m too young and fit and that I should go find a league with people my own age.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way, but they’re right.”

“According to Phyllis, I’m a big, strapping girl.”

Ellen couldn’t hide her smile. “Strapping? She said strapping?”

“She did.”

“I hate her.”

“Thank you.”

The oven dinged. Ellen got up and slid in the frozen pizza, then resumed her seat.

“Have you thought about joining another pickleball league?”

“Not really, but I should think about it. Maybe put it on the challenge list.”

Ellen tore off a couple of sheets of blank paper, while Unity dug pens out of her bag.

“Let’s do this,” Ellen said. “Let’s come up with a list of challenges. Things that are scary and fun and help us grow as people.”

“Ugh.” Unity wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I’m not a fan of change.”

“Me, either, but circumstances being what they are, I don’t think we have a choice.” She pointed to Unity’s paper. “Pickleball. Write it down.”

“I’d rather do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Unity thought for a second. “Skydiving.”

“What?” Ellen lowered her voice. “Are you insane? Skydiving?”

Unity grinned. “Yes, and you should get a tattoo.”

“You first.”

Unity picked up her pen and wrote the word tattoo, followed by skydiving. Her expression turned smug. “Match that.”

“Fine.” Ellen wrote down tattoo on her list. Then she thought about her recent realization that not only hadn’t she been on a date in the past seventeen years, she also hadn’t had sex. Well, at least not with someone other than herself.

Her pen hovered right above the paper.

“You can do it,” Unity whispered.

“What I’d really like is sex with a handsome man. Unlikely, but whatever.” She scribbled the words. “I have no idea how I’m going to make that happen.” She looked at Unity. “I challenge you to think about doing the same.”

“Sex with a man?”

“Or a woman.”

Unity rolled her eyes. “As if.”

“Oh, and in your case, he has to be age appropriate.”

She thought Unity might get upset at that, but her friend only started to laugh.

“I’m definitely not ready for that,” Unity admitted.

“I know, but isn’t that the point? Oh, I have one for you. Get a phone you can text with.”

“Fine. Get some clothes that fit you.”

Ellen winced. “I really should do that.”

“Yes, you should.”

The timer dinged. Ellen sliced up the pizza and set it in the center of the table. Over wine and dinner, they continued to brainstorm their lists. Nearly an hour later, they looked at each other.

“I’m excited and uncomfortable,” Ellen admitted. “Which I think is the point. What about you?”

Unity shrugged. “The same.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready to move on.”

“I’m not, but do I have a choice?” Unity split the last of the wine between them. “I got yelled at in my grief group.”

“Grief group is giving you grief?” Ellen slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. That’s the wine talking.”

“Yes, it is and you’re right. It’s kind of funny.”

“No, it’s not. What happened?”

“They told me I’m stuck. That I’m not moving on.” She set her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “They said I think my pain and loss are more special than anyone else’s and that’s why I can’t move on.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”

“It was. They ganged up on me.” Unity looked at her list then back at Ellen. “Are they right? Am I making what happened more than it is?”

“No. You suffered a horrible loss. You’re not wrong to miss Stuart. You loved him.”

Unity’s gaze was steady. “But?”

“But maybe it’s time to stop assuming that your life has to be over, too. Stuart is gone, but you’re still here. You could find someone, have kids.”

“I don’t want kids if I can’t have them with Stuart.”

Words Ellen had heard before. “Maybe it’s the wine talking,” she said slowly, “but I think it’s more you won’t let yourself have kids with anyone but Stuart.”

Unity stared at her. “That’s not true.”

“Are you sure? Like I said this morning, I had to deal with a lot of arbitrary rules in my time. I’m good at recognizing them. You’ve made a lot of decisions based on grief. Maybe they were right at first, but I don’t think they’re right now.”

“I can’t think about that now.”

Ellen nodded rather than push. “Just think about them later, okay?”

“I will because you’re my family and I love you.” Unity sighed. “Okay, we’re doing this?”

“We are. We need to.” Ellen picked up her list. After half a bottle of wine, the words swam a little, but she could still read them. “Learn how to do a smoky eye. Get a tattoo. Sing karaoke. Wear clothes that fit for a least a month, which I have to say is really dumb because if I’m buying new clothes, I’m going to wear them for more than a month.”

Unity motioned for her to keep going.

“Have sex with a hunky guy. Get drunk, and not by myself. Hey, does tonight count?”

“No.”

“You’re kind of a pain in my ass.” She returned her attention to the list. “Go out dancing. Wear a bathing suit at the beach.” She grimaced. “I’m so pale, I’ll blind people.”

“Not the point.”

“Be that way. Is that all? Oh, rent an impractical car for the weekend and go wild.” She put down the list. “I’m not getting a ticket.”

“That is entirely up to you.” Unity reached for her own list. “Get a tattoo. Go skydiving. Learn to rock climb. Wear a dress and three-inch heels.”

Ellen waved her hand. “Without a bra.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Just wearing a dress and heels is no big deal. No bra, missy. You have great boobs. You’ll be fine.”

Unity shook her head, then dutifully noted the change. “Look at three houses or condos, even though I don’t want to move.”

“Not at Silver Pines,” Ellen added. “No wistful shopping with the old people.”

“I wasn’t going to look at Silver Pines. I can’t move there until I’m fifty-five.”

“It pains me that you know that.”

Unity smiled. “Get a phone that texts.”

“Hallelujah.”

“Bite me. What else? Join a pickleball team with people my own age. Hire a full-time employee who isn’t past the age of retirement and, last but not least, move my business into an office.”

They looked at each other.

“Some of these are good,” Ellen said. “Like you getting a real office. Even if you never move out of Stuart’s house, it would be nice to get all that inventory out of your garage. You’d have more separation from work.”

“I do like the idea of that one,” Unity admitted. “I’m nervous about hiring someone full-time, though. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“You’re a responsible person. Besides, you always have more work than you can do.” Ellen looked at her list. “There’s very little on here I can do on my own or even with you.”

“The point is to get out so Cooper realizes you have a life beyond him. He’s afraid he’s all you have.”

Ellen covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t tell you. Jeremy called today.”

Unity’s blue eyes widened. “Jeremy as in Cooper’s father? He called? It’s been seventeen years. What, did he lose your number until today?”

Ellen smiled. “Thank you for the righteous indignation. He’s called a couple of times before. Just to, I don’t know, get an update, I guess.”

“Is that what he wanted today?”

Ellen thought about the call. “No. He wants to see Coop. He wants to get to know his son.”

“Oh, no. Are you all right with that?”

“No. The thought of it terrifies me. Jeremy is some Hollywood movie producer in LA. He’s new and interesting and I’m just the mom.”

“You’re afraid you’re going to lose him?”

Ellen nodded.

“But you know you have to tell him.”

Ellen nodded again. She didn’t want to, but it was the right thing to do. She reached for her pen and added one more thing to her list.

Let Cooper meet his dad.

Six

The distance between Thaddeus’s down town Bellevue condo and his great-aunt Dagmar’s house was one hundred and seven miles. In the winter, the mountain pass between them could be difficult but in late June, the interstate was an easy two-hour drive.

As he paused to check in with the security guard at the entrance to The Village at Silver Pines, he found himself once again wishing she would consider moving to his side of the mountain. There were plenty of very nice retirement communities in the Seattle area and he’d told her price was no object. But no matter how he cajoled, Dagmar refused to move. She’d lived in Willowbrook her entire life. She claimed not to be a big city kind of person.

When he’d relocated from Las Vegas seven years ago, he’d looked around Willowbrook, but the small community with its early twentieth-century storefronts hadn’t been the least bit appealing. Even though he could run his business from anywhere, he’d been unable to imagine himself living in a town with a grange, where the bowling alley was still a hot spot and the main road off the interstate road was dotted with gas stations and fast-food places to service the travelers going somewhere else.

Yes, just a mile or two north of the highway, there were charming residential streets and plenty of parks and even a handful of cows, but nothing about the place was him. He liked urban views and being close to a decent airport.

Now he drove into his aunt’s retirement community, turning on the narrow streets before stopping in front of her house. The front door opened before he’d even gotten out of his car.

Despite her age, Dagmar looked as she always had—vital and eccentric, with her auburn hair swinging around her face. She was dressed in camo-patterned cropped pants and an olive green wrap blouse covered with applique black flowers.

“Darling!” She held out her arms as he approached. “You made it. I’m delighted.”

“You asked and I answered.”

He was gentle as he held her, mindful of the fact that she was more frail this year than last. She was as sharp as she had ever been, but he worried about her as she got older.

“Come inside. You’re staying to dinner, aren’t you? I’m planning something wonderful.”

“You always do.”

Two days ago, Dagmar had texted, inviting him over. She’d told him to come early and to plan on having a good time. With Dagmar that could mean anything from an evening going over old photos or playing bridge with her cronies. Regardless, he was in. Dagmar was the last of his family and he loved her.