Page 7 of Serendipity

Girls’night turns a little rowdy, as expected. The girls – Jess, Jenna, Carissa, and Rachael – and I haven’t been friends all our lives, having met at a group our church offered for single parents, but one would never guess it. Well, with the exception of Carissa who I’ve been friends with since high school. Though, we’ve admittedly grown much closer in the past year. Most days, we’re a mess and having each other to commiserate with has been one of the bright spots in the divorce.

I grew up in our small town of Red Oak, Tennessee, but lost touch with most of the people I went to school with. It happens that way, not all of us stuck around Red Oak and many of us went our separate ways as we started down different paths in our lives. Since I’d married young and we started a family early, my focus was at home. To some of my friends, it was almost to a fault.

But this group of ladies have been my saving grace since the divorce. Well, them and my children, that is. As a group, we helped each other find ourselves. We discovered more about who we are together. We also don’t judge each other, which is something we all need in our lives. When one of us is having a bad day for no other reason than the reminder of our marriages ending, we gather together as one. We understand what it’s like to grieve the marriage that once was while seeing the blessing that it’s in the past.

Jess hoots from her place curled up in the oversized chair. No clue why, other than she’s had some, a.k.a., a lot of, wine and she’s happy. It sends the rest of us into a fit of laughter and Carissa ends up snorting her drink out her nose.

“Oh, shit, that hurts so bad,” she says through laughter, wiping her nose with a napkin.

I set my now empty glass on the coffee table so I don’t drop it, and Jenna swiftly snatches it up and pours it full to the brim.

Shaking my head, I protest. “No. No more.”

“I’m a bad influence,” Jenna proclaims proudly with a wink.

We all agree, and Jenna guffaws, which makes everyone laugh harder. We’re a mess. I hadn’t intended to drink so much tonight, but the perfectly chilled Moscato has been going down easily since the first sip.

Despite my flimsy objection, I lean forward and take a large drink from the top without lifting the glass to my lips because I know I’ll spill it if I try to hold the glass right now.

Then, because I’m a weirdo, I stand up, my arms spread to the sides. “Look, mom, no hands!” And I keep sipping loudly.

Which becomes a challenge to see who can drink the most of their drink doing the same.

“It’s kind of a workout, really,” Jess says after a really loud slurp. “My thighs are on fire right now.”

“How about some chocolate?” Carissa asks everyone then marches into the kitchen before we can respond. She doesn’t need our answers though because of course we want chocolate.

“Do you have more pita chips and spinach dip?” I holler after her, following closely behind. Actually skipping.

“You know I do,” she replies with a grin over her shoulder. She slides a chair over to a cupboard and climbs on. “I hide the good stuff,” she says, moving around some spices. “Ahh. Got it!”

She presents a large bag of sea salt caramels. She hands it to me and I notice there’s both dark and milk chocolate in the bag then reaches in again and pulls out yet another bag of chocolates. Dove chocolates, to be exact. My favorite.

“You’re a gem.”

“Because I have chocolate?” she asks, smiling as she climbs down off the chair and pushes it back to the table.

“That and many other things.”

“Oh! I have those tomato and basil wheat thins you like, too. They’re in the pantry along with the extra bag of pita chips. Grab those, will ya? I’ll make sure the spinach and artichoke dip is warm enough.”

“Want me to cut up more cheese? Some apples, maybe?”

“Perfect.”

We go about fixing up another round of snacks together, not caring about the presentation one bit because it’s us and we don’t have time for that nonsense when we’re only going to devour it anyway.

Chatter from the other room continues as Carissa and I work together like we’ve done it a million times.

“So this whole Stone thing…” Carissa says, grinning like a loon.

I roll my eyes. “You’re as bad as Naomi. She’s positive there’s something happening with us but I’m really not so sure.”

“Why’s that?”

With a shrug, I keep my eyes downcast. “It’s hard to believe, maybe? I don’t know. We’re friends and it’s not like I’m looking for a relationship.”

“Isn’t that how they usually happen? When you’re not looking? And friends first is the best way because you already know the two of you click that way.”

---