A Clean Slate. Laura Caldwell

      We made our way to the bar and snagged the last two empty stools. Laney ordered margaritas, our cocktail of choice. I started to ask her for more details about Gear, but we were soon interrupted by a shout and a round of hugs from Jess and Steve, two friends of ours from Laney’s days at an advertising agency. Jess and Steve both still worked there (at least as far as I knew), and they both still did everything together, but for different reasons now. For years, while they were “just friends,” we were constantly telling Jess that they should have sex and get it over with, but she swore they weren’t like that. Then one day, a year and a half ago, they’d announced that they were, in fact, like that. They were in love, they’d discovered, and a few months later they were engaged. We’d been hearing about the wedding plans all year and in fact, if I remembered correctly, it was coming up soon.

      “Oh my God,” Jess said. “Is it Kelly McGraw, blast from the past, or is it a vision?”

      “It’s me,” I said, letting myself be pulled into another one of Jess’s surprisingly strong hugs. Everything about Jess was tiny—her miniature frame, her rosebud mouth, her hands and feet—and although she hated being called “cute,” she was probably going to be stuck with the term her whole life. Steve was just the opposite. Tall and gangly, with an unfortunate resemblance to Ichabod Crane.

      “You look unbelievable,” Jess said. “Where have you been and what have you done to yourself?”

      “We had a little makeover day,” Laney said. “Shopping at Saks and then the works at Trevé.”

      I smiled at her, thankful for her answer and the diversion from the question about where I’d been for so long. I wasn’t prepared to broadcast my memory loss, and I couldn’t very well use Ben as an excuse for not being around, since everyone probably knew we’d broken up months ago.

      “I won’t even ask what you spent,” Jess said, “but whatever it was, it was worth it. You look beautiful!”

      Behind her Steve nodded, and I thanked them profusely, the compliments making me sit taller on my bar stool.

      “So the wedding’s soon, right?” I asked as Laney turned to the bar and ordered drinks for Steve and Jess.

      “One week from today,” Steve said. “According to the schedule Jess set, we should be home right now writing out place cards, but we needed a break.”

      “He needed a break,” Jess said. “Anyway, Kell, we’re so bummed you can’t be there.”

      I couldn’t be there? Why not? These were two of my good friends. An uncomfortable silence fell.

      “Right. Well, I was going to be busy.” I glanced at Laney for some help.

      “With that charity thing,” she said.

      I had no idea what she was talking about, but by her expression and the way she was nodding slowly I could tell that she was making it up. I had, apparently, declined the wedding invitation because I had another date with my couch and my antidepressants.

      “Right,” I said. “The charity thing. But I’m not doing that anymore, am I?”

      “No,” Laney said. “It got cancelled, right?”

      “Right. So I’ll be able to go, after all. Is that okay?”

      “We’d love it,” Jess said, but she and Steve exchanged worried looks. “The thing is we already turned in our seating chart. I don’t know if we can change it.”

      “I’ve got an idea,” Laney said. “I was planning on bringing Gear, but he was going to have to leave early to go to some gig, so why don’t I just bring Kelly as my date. Would that work?”

      “That would be perfect!” Jess said in a relieved voice. “I’m so glad you’ll be there.”

      “Me, too.” I squeezed Laney’s hand.

      I loved being out and about like this, loved seeing my friends. So why hadn’t I done it for so long? Why had I holed myself up in that apartment and turned down a wedding invitation? I wouldn’t think about it. Not now—maybe not ever.

      I helped Laney order another round of drinks, then more cocktails when other friends arrived. We made a tight circle near the bar, shouting over the music, laughing at old stories, clinking glasses. And then I felt him. My mouth slowed down, my head turned. Ben. Pushing through the crowd. He looked handsome in a thick wool sweater, his brown hair tamed and combed away from his face, his cheeks a little flushed from the cold outside. Behind him, another Toni look-alike trailed along, and when I looked closer, I could see they were holding hands. Therese. The girlfriend.

      Ben was smiling, looking right at our group, and I was panicked at how I was supposed to act. From what Laney had told me, I’d been trailing after Ben like a puppy for the last few months. But if Ben or Therese were unhappy about seeing me, they didn’t show it. They walked up to us, calling hello, hugging a few people, while Laney glared at him. Ben knew Steve from college, but clearly Laney hadn’t expected him to be here tonight.

      When he reached us, Ben nodded at Laney. I felt my heart beating hard under my new bronze sweater, and I wondered if anyone could hear it. Laney gave him a terse nod back, and then Ben turned to me with an expectant smile.

      “I’m Ben,” he said, apparently not recognizing me. He started to raise his hand to shake mine, but then froze, the smile dropping from his face. “Kell?”

      “Hi, Ben.” Be brave. Be brave.

      He gave a little shake of his head, the one that reminded me of a dog shaking water off its coat, the gesture he made when he was trying to clear his brain of something he couldn’t make sense of.

      “Jeez.” He stared at my hair, my face, my clothes. “What…ah…what happened to you?”

      He made it sound as if I’d been mauled by wild dogs.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that. You just look so different, especially from this morning.”

      Was it only that morning that I’d stood in front of his apartment, frenetically pushing the buzzer?

      “You look great, though.” His words came fast now, almost tripping over themselves. “You look better and beautiful, and I’m glad to see it, and—”

      Just then the woman I assumed to be Therese wedged herself into our conversation and cast a look of disdain at me, then one at Ben for good measure.

      “Hi,” I said, as politely as possible. “I’m Kelly.”

      “I know who you are.” She raked her hands through her sandy, streaked hair and shot me an expression of pure disgust.

      I felt myself falter. It had been such a shock to be so close to Ben that I’d forgotten for a second that I’d met this woman sometime over the last five months while I was hounding her boyfriend.

      “I need to use the powder room,” Laney said in a too loud voice. “Kell?”

      “Sure,” I said, grateful beyond belief.

      “Are you all right?” Laney asked once we were in the safe confines of the tiny pink bathroom. She gripped my shoulders and peered at my face.

      “I was just surprised, that’s all.” It was true, and I was also surprised to find that I didn’t feel like falling apart. I didn’t feel like crying or shrieking. I had just been so startled to see him, the guy whose kids I thought I’d have, whose underwear I thought I’d wash for the rest of my life. How strange it was to have known him so intimately—to know the way he squeezed his toothpaste tube into a triangular roll and the way he liked to have his forehead rubbed when he had a headache—and yet not to have a relationship with him anymore.

      Laney hugged me, then proceeded to give me a rousing pep talk about not letting him get to me, how I was gorgeous and smart and starting a new chapter in my life that didn’t involve him.

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