The Starfish Sisters: A Novel(91)

It rings again. “Joel!” I call. “Can you answer this, please?”

He takes the phone. “She’s okay. Long story, but she’s fine and they have the guy who has been terrorizing her.” He listens. “No, don’t come up right now. I’ll have her call you when she can.”

He hangs up. “Good?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Great.”

And I actually mean it. I don’t have to talk to her until I’m ready. If I ever get ready. This is my decision and I don’t have to rush it.





Chapter Twenty-Nine


Phoebe


Suze has not answered a text or phone call for nearly a week. I found out from Ben that the same guy who’d been harassing her, starting at the Pig ’N Pancake, had broken in and Suze kicked his ass, basically.

I see her on the deck while I’m painting. I see her walking on the beach, sometimes with Joel. She came to see Jasmine off when she decided to return to England with Stephanie, but didn’t even look at me.

Which is fair. Although, really, she must know how hard it is for me to let Jasmine go early. Before I could express as much to Ben, I realize that I’ve put my own agenda at the center of the friendship again, and it’s time to let Suze do that.

If we even have a friendship left.

When a week stretches to two, then three, my heart is breaking so much that I know I have to make the first move. I have to try to somehow make amends. I know I can’t fix the past, but I have to try to be present with what I’ve done. Rather than call, I scour the town for a box of stationery, and find only the most basic pale blue, meant for old ladies. Which, technically, I suppose we have become. It has that distinctive rose-lavender-flower scent, and that’s enough for me.

Sitting at the studio table with classical music playing, I take out a sheaf of paper and begin to write.

Dear Suze,

I have spent so much time thinking about our friendship in the past few weeks, about my bad behavior and the ways I’ve let you down, and if things were reversed, I don’t know if I could forgive you.

But I miss you so much it’s like someone has chopped off my left arm. I think I can manage okay without it, and then I need to drain the pasta, and it’s obvious that I really do need that arm.

I miss you.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hiding the letter. I’m sorry for always being so jealous and hostile. I’m sorry that I fought with you at our grandmother’s funeral. It was my fault. I don’t know why I got so mad.

That’s a lie. I wanted to keep Amma to myself. I didn’t want to admit that she loved you every single bit as much as she loved me. I wanted to keep you to myself, too, and not share you with Amma, or my dad, or Joel, and even worse, the entire world. The whole world knows you and that made me protective and jealous. Like, they don’t know you. Not like I do. They don’t know that you love sauerkraut even though it’s the worst food in the world. They don’t know that your favorite shirt is a sloppy T-shirt from the ’90s. They don’t know all the things you’ve had to get through in your life, your horrible father, the loss of your baby and Joel.

If I think of your shaved head, even now, I will cry.

I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me—so many times, but mainly when you were alone in that awful unwed mothers’ home and I only went to see you one time. I don’t know what I was thinking, and it actually doesn’t matter. I let you down when you needed me most. I can’t fix that, but I can tell you I know it was wrong, and I am so sorry. I hope I can make it up to you someday.

I’m most sorry for keeping the letter, and for all the ramifications of that. There is no possible way to make up for it, but I want you to know that I’m going to spend my life trying if you’ll let me.

I don’t know if our friendship is broken completely. If you feel like you can’t be friends with me anymore, I will understand. This is all on me. I will never blame you for one second.

But if you think you can eventually forgive me, I will be down at the Starfish Sisters at 10 am on Tuesday the 12th, no matter what the weather. If you want to work on this, meet me there.

No matter what happens, Suze, know that I love you. You’re one of the best people I know, loving and supportive and good. So much like Amma. She would be so proud of you. I’m proud of you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Your sister,

Phoebe





Chapter Thirty


Suze


Predictably, it’s raining on the morning of the twelfth, but I don my wet-weather gear like the true Oregonian I am and head down the steps to the beach. I can see Phoebe down by the rocks, wearing red boots and a hooded rain jacket. She’s peering into the tide pools, and as I come down, I see her stick a finger into the water. I know her touch is gentle. She’s only moving something around, not bothering nature.

I thought long and hard about her letter. I didn’t rush. I talked to Beryl in my mind, and Joel in real life, and we all came to the same conclusion—that Phoebe needs me. I also need her. My life would be so much thinner without her.

As I approach, she straightens. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi. Anything interesting?”

“Yeah.” Her face lights up. “A purple sea star. He’s big.”