Read Online The Friends We Keep by Holly Chamberlin - Free Book Online Page B

“warm and friendly.” John said he ate there once a week, as he loved the puttanesca sauce.
    Sophie leapt to her feet and embraced John. He hugged her back with enthusiasm. I remained seated and offered my hand. He took it and we shook briefly and firmly.
    â€œIt’s so good to see you!” Sophie gushed. “You look wonderful!”
    They took their seats and engaged in a meeting of the mutual admiration society while I waited. Finally, John turned to me.
    â€œYou look well, Eve,” he said.
    â€œEva.”
    â€œOf course. You haven’t changed a bit since I ran into you at that event a few years back.”
    I had a vague memory of that night. Ben. I remembered going on about Ben. I stifled a shudder. “Yes,” I said, hoping John wouldn’t ask about my ex-boyfriend. “I take care of myself.”
    John gave me a half-smile and asked nothing more.
    When the wine arrived, a bold red that John had selected, he proposed a toast. “To us,” he said. “The old crowd.”
    Sophie raised her glass and beamed. “It’ll be great being friends again. It’ll be just like old times!”
    How could I be expected not to betray my native skepticism? “It’s been said that you can’t go home again.”
    John frowned at me. “Whatever happens,” he said soothingly, “I’m glad that Sophie got us all together.”
    I took a sip of the wine (which was really very good) so that I wouldn’t speak my thought: that I still wasn’t sure I was glad Sophie had hunted us down.
    Before the first course, talk turned to our professional lives. Sophie asked me if I enjoyed working at Caldwell and Company.
    â€œMy career is everything to me,” I said, and then I wondered: What, exactly, do I mean by that? My career is everything because there is nothing else? There is nothing else because my career is everything? I took another few sips of wine and thought, so what if I get drunk? There’s no one at home to yell at me.
    â€œI’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing,” John was saying when I tuned back in. “I can’t imagine not working in the law. But who knows? Maybe five, ten years from now I’ll feel the need for some sort of change. Burnout happens. So does boredom. If I don’t feel challenged, I’ll move on, expand, something.”
    Sophie smiled. “You’re lucky. I mean, how many people can say they like their jobs?”
    â€œNot many,” I said abruptly—not if you listened to my staff.
    â€œI’m not saying that my job can’t be stressful,” John added. “Some nights I’m so wiped I can hardly muster the energy to get on the T for home. And pretty much on a daily basis I have to contend with a variety of idiots, creeps, and bureaucrats. Still, on the whole, I’m happy.”
    â€œAt least you’re not digging ditches,” I said, for no reason at all.
    John looked at me curiously. “How did you know about that?”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œThe summer I did a volunteer gig in Africa. Mostly we dug trenches for irrigation.”
    â€œReally?” I asked. “How socially conscious of you.”
    Sophie laughed. “John,” she said, “I can’t believe you’re not married! You’re perfect!”
    I thought I saw John wince but I probably imagined it. John never did have any real modesty. He just pretended to be humble. It got him more adoring, empty-headed girls.
    â€œHardly,” he said, lightly. “But thanks, Sophie. It’s nice to have fans.”
    â€œYou never did make a big deal of your accomplishments,” Sophie went on. “I remember when you were elected into Phi Beta Kappa in our junior year you just shrugged and said something like, ‘Oh, it was just luck.’”
    Ah, now John pretended to blush! Really, I thought, why didn’t he take up acting or politics