I got Wendy’s phone number from Emily and called her. She was pleased to hear from me, but very
negative about Alice (AKA “that bitch”).
I told her that Alice felt terrible and she loves Emily as a
friend. And since the general
understanding is that they had been a couple and that Alice had been the
breaker-upper, Emily got custody of the church.
Alice started going to our church, and when the kids asked why, she said
the incense at Epiphany gave her a headache.
And Emily also got custody of the friends, except for a few
who wanted to be “liberated” and stay friends with both of them and some who
hit on Alice. She was flattered, but she
wondered if they were doing it because they thought she was fast and just
wanted a quick pop.
Wendy’s comment was “Boo effing hoo,” but she didn’t say
“effing.”
“But anyway,” I said, trying to get the conversation back on
track, “The problem isn’t Alice. Emily
will probably meet someone someday. But the
problem is that she’s talking to Michele.”
I didn’t know if I should call Michele “that bitch.” It’s not a good idea to criticize someone’s
ex; you never know if they’ll get back together, especially in that crowd.
“Shoot,” Wendy said.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot.”
And of course that isn’t really what she said.
“Is Michele seeing anyone?”
“There’s a very nice new woman in our group that she seems
to have her eye on.”
“Wait a minute.” I
practically had to pick my jaw up off the ground. “You’re still in the group?”
Wendy seemed surprised that I was surprised. “It’s kind of a small community. It’s like a family; you get mad at each
other, but you have to stick together and deep down you love each other. And everybody knows everybody else’s
secrets.”
That sounded a little like incest to me, but of course I
didn’t say anything. “Can’t you warn
her?”
“Oh, we’ve tried. But
once Michele’s interested, you’re a goner.
We’re going to be very supportive, though, when it’s over. Actually, I don’t think it’s started. But then again, maybe it has. It’s kind of confusing.”
To say the least.
“So you don’t think Michele is really after Emily?”
Wendy sighed. “Who
knows? Fortunately, she’s not here.”
“But what can we do?”
“Find someone else for her.
Get her to go to therapy. Start a
support group. How should I know? She got herself into this mess. Or That Bitch did.”
I decided to change the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Wendy sighed again.
“I’m on a break. I can’t decide
if it’s because I need some peace or if it’s just no one is interested. I just wish I could find the right woman and
settle down, even get married one day.
Actually, I’m mad at myself for wasting all that time with Michele, when
I knew what would happen.”
“Don’t beat yourself up.
Emily said no one can help herself when it comes to Michele.”
“Well, she’s got that right.”
“Listen, Wendy, Emily knows I’m going to call you and she
probably figured out why. Maybe you can
talk some sense into her. Never mind
Alice, just get her away from Michele.”
“Sure, why not? Is
this a Jane Austen novel or what?”
“I like to think of my life as a quirky independent comedy.”
“Or maybe it’s the court of Henry the Eighth.”
“Well, you know what went on there.”
I would have liked to have discussed more metaphors for my
life, but Duke had just stolen a piece of pizza off the table and Cilla was
chasing him. We promised to talk again
soon.
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