CHAPTER 29
Joe
It was our first big fight. Really our only fight since we’d been together. Yet the whole world, including my friends and family and my entire campaign team, saw a close-up video of it.
I did my best to downplay it to everyone, laughing it off as another example of the media blowing things way out of proportion. Yes, we’d had a spat, I told them, but we’d quickly made up. Everything would be fine.
Berry was the only one who got the full truth, and I leaned on her just like old times. We analyzed the fight, along with everything that had happened since Cate and I got engaged, searching for clues. We were both baffled, but Berry concluded that I’d done nothing wrong, and that it had to be something internal with Cate. I just needed to be patient, she said, and give her a little time and space.
I did my best to follow Berry’s advice, showing as much restraint as I could—which didn’t amount to much. I left multiple messages on Cate’s machine, and called her friends, too. I just wanted to remind her how much I loved her and that I missed her.
But four torturous days passed, and the phone never rang. By Sunday morning, I was in a state of utter despair. It didn’t help that it was raining, and I loved rainy days with Cate. All I wanted to do was curl up under a blanket with the woman I loved. I tried to be productive and distract myself, pretending that it was already Monday. I called my staff, went into the office to work on donor lists, then hit the gym for a harder than usual workout. Nothing made me feel better, so I called Berry and convinced her to come day-drink with me.
Within thirty minutes, she was on my doorstep with a bottle of wine, a pizza, and an old photo album she’d recently unearthed from her aunt’s apartment.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” she said.
“Hell, yeah, it is,” I said, grinning at her. “Come on in.”
For the next few hours, Berry and I pored through old photos, some of them dating back to junior high, and listened to CDs from that nostalgic era, a soundtrack of our friendship. Meanwhile, the wine flowed. Berry wasn’t a big drinker, but she kept pretty good pace with me that afternoon, probably sensing that that’s what I needed. A dear old drinking buddy.
I did my best not to talk about Cate, because by that point there was nothing new to say. But eventually Berry brought her up.
“If she doesn’t contact you before Peter’s wedding this weekend, it’s over,” she declared. “Even if she comes back to you, it’s over. You can’t take her back.”
I nodded, listening, craving clarity, even if it meant Berry’s rules and deadlines.
“By the wedding, do you mean the actual ceremony on Saturday—or Thursday, when we’re flying down?”
“Thursday,” she said, so definite. “She knows when your flights are.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. That gave Cate four more days. Surely she wouldn’t blow me off for that long. “And tell me why this is the cutoff?” I asked.
“Because it’s one thing to do this when only you and I know what’s going on; it’s another thing to let you go to that wedding by yourself.”
I nodded. “Go on.”
“You’re the best man, Joe. She knows what Peter’s wedding means to you and your family…and if she lets you go into that weekend solo, where you’re going to have to field questions from a few hundred people, she’s a heartless bitch.”
“Whoa,” I said. “That’s a little over the top.”
“Is it?”
“What happened to ‘she might be going through something’?”
“I’m quite sure she is going through something,” Berry said. “But that doesn’t give her carte blanche to do whatever the hell she wants to you.”
I nodded as Berry kept going.
“You’ve given her everything. This girl—without even a high-school degree—”
“Berry—don’t go there—”
“Well, it’s true!”
“That has nothing to do with anything.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” Berry said. “Look, Joe. Like it or not, you’re a pretty big fucking prize—and she’s an unemployed high-school dropout.”
“She had to quit her job because of me.”
“Regardless. What in the world is she thinking? It makes absolutely no sense. And beyond the fact that it’s totally crazy, it’s also cruel.”
“Cruel?”
“Yes, Joe. It’s cruel.”
I nodded. Because it suddenly seemed that way to me, too. “Okay. So, if she doesn’t call me by Thursday, it’s over,” I said, getting a little fired up.
“Yes. Over.”
Berry stared at me a long time, and said, “It’s getting late, and I’m drunk. I better go.”
“No!” I said, reaching for her hand, panicking. I didn’t want to be alone. “It’s only eight o’clock. Stay longer. Stay the night. Please, Ber? You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Berry laughed and said, “That’s all you need. For the paparazzi to catch me leaving here tomorrow morning.”
“I guess,” I said, feeling a wave of pure sorrow.
Berry must have been able to tell because she said, “It’s going to be okay, Joe. Just give her a little more time.”
“But what if she never calls?” I said, staring down at our empty pizza box. “What if I never talk to her again?”
“Well, then…it wasn’t meant to be.”
I stared at her, my head fuzzy from wine. I suddenly recalled one of our first conversations about her parents and how some people had the heartlessness to say that “things happen for a reason.” It was crap, she had said, insisting that the universe was pure, brutal chaos. “I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff,” I finally said.
“What stuff?”
“Fate and destiny type stuff,” I said.
“I didn’t used to,” Berry said, resting her head on my shoulder. “But lately…I’m not so sure….”
“What’s changed?”
“It’s not about what’s changed,” she said, her speech a little slurred. “It’s about what hasn’t changed.”
“I don’t get it.”
Berry turned and looked up at me, tears in her eyes.
“Oh, shit, Berry,” I said. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” she said, wiping her eyes with two tight fists.
“C’mon. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I’m just sad.”
“Why? Tell me.”
She took a few deep breaths, then said, “I’m sad because…because I miss my parents. After all these years, I still miss them….”
“I know, Ber—” I said, taking both of her hands in mine.
“And I’m sad because you’re sad—and I hate it when you’re sad,” she said, now talking quickly. “And I’m sad because I’m nearing my mid-thirties, and I’m still single without a prospect in sight.”
Berry’s dating life—or more typically, her lack of a dating life—was something we never really discussed. At times, I even convinced myself that it didn’t matter to her. She had a great career and more friends than anyone I knew. I said as much, but she shook her head, her chin trembling.
“Face it, Joe. I’m alone. And this isn’t a pity party. It’s just a fact.”
“You’re not alone,” I said. “You have me.”
“Not since Cate,” she said. “And we both know that the only reason I’m over here tonight is because she’s being a psycho bitch—”
I tensed up, confused by competing loyalties.
Berry sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not. I don’t want this to be me versus her. I want you to make up, and I want to be her friend. But Joe, I’m also not going to let her treat you like shit. And it’s taken everything I have not to call her and give her a piece of my mind.”
“Aww,” I said, feeing touched, even though I was glad she hadn’t done it. “That’s really nice—but I don’t think that’s a smart move.”
Berry smiled through her tears and said, “Don’t worry…but can you promise me one thing?”
“Anything.”
“Promise me that things won’t ever change with our friendship. No matter what. No matter who you end up with.”
“I promise,” I said. “And, shit, if Cate leaves me for good, maybe you and I should get married.”
I waited for Berry to laugh—or tell me how ridiculous that was. Instead, her eyes welled with tears.
She shook her head and whispered, “Don’t say that.”
My smile faded as I said, “Sorry. It was just a joke.”
“I know—but just…don’t,” she said, one tear rolling down her cheek.
“Is it really that horrid of a notion?” I asked, making one last attempt at humor.
Berry bit her lip and shook her head, “No, Joe,” she said, her chin trembling. “I’d marry you tomorrow if I could.”
I froze, thinking I must have heard her wrong, that the alcohol was playing tricks on me, but she kept talking. “I’ve been in love with you since the seventh grade,” she said.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, I put my arms around her and pulled her against my chest. “Shit, Berry,” I said, kissing the top of her head.
“Yeah,” she said. “Tell me about it.”
My mind racing and clouded at once, I whispered, “I love you, too, Berry. But—”
“Joe. Stop. I know. I know you don’t feel that way. I know you’re in love with her. But I needed to tell you. After all these years—I just needed to tell you.”
I nodded, now tearing up a little, too. “I’m glad you did.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” I said. “And I promise that nothing—and no one—will ever change how close we are.”
Then, as if on cue, the phone rang. I think we both knew, even before I answered, that it was Cate.