The Crying Game

I stay in touch with Del as promised. And we agree to an evening when I can come and spend some time with him and Toni. I will bring martinis and whatever. We just need to see each other.

On the day we agreed upon, I text Del to make sure that it is still okay. It is, he says, but they are all at Niles' and Lyla's. meet them there. All are welcome. It's a great big love in.

I have not been to Lyla's home since Toni's baby shower. The twins are in 7th grade. How has that happened? I put th e address in my navigation app, pour the martinis, pack up the hummus and flatbreads and port wine cheese and crackers, brush my teeth, fix my face, brush my hair, change my outfit, take a deep breath and drive.

I am a wreck.

I get to what will now be Niles' house and sit for a moment.  The moment I've dreaded is here. Time to face my friend and her horrific loss.

I approach the front door. Niles' son opens it as I get there. I tell him who I am. He says he knows who I am, of course. He looks over at Del who warmly greets me with a kiss and a hug and takes my things from me. I warn him not to spill the martinis. He says he'll get Toni and some glasses.

And Toni emerges. Lipstick perfectly affixed to her beautiful, troubled face. She looks thin. She walks toward me and I toward her and we are immediately sobbing. All I can think to say is, "My dear, dear friend, I am so sorry."

It seems so inadequate. But her sobbing to me somehow makes it okay. She's letting go. Friends allow you that. Sometimes that is what it takes. The presence of an old friend who knows all of your secrets, your strengths, your insecurities, your private thoughts, and has a deep abiding love and knowledge of your very soul, to unleash what you hold inside.

We pour drinks. She and Del gamely introduce me to people I have known for years. Toni and Del have huge sprawling, loud, consuming, inviting families. I have met 100s of them since becoming Toni's compadre way back in our 20s.  They all seem so grateful that I am there. When really it is I who am grateful. Grateful to be welcomed to the inner circle of family at such a personal time.

I listen to stories. I share a few of my own memories of Lyla. I look at pictures with Toni. I step outside with her because she has resumed smoking. The twins arrive from where they'd spent some time with other relatives. I comb their long tresses like their mother would if she could stop shaking. I give them each a long beautiful Katniss braid. They are practically purring.

And after many drinks, and many kindnesses shared, I say my good nights, make a round of kisses, and head out. I walk past Lyla's white SUV, probably up for auction within a week. I think about all of the decisions Niles must face. I think about the lonely tomorrow's Toni must brace herself for, without her own Super Hero sister.

I get in my car, pop the clutch and turn the engine. And begin to cry. And do not stop until I am at home  with Trinket and Gidget curled up in bed with me.