Don't Cry. Beverly Barton

I’d have said more wine. But now, I think water with lemon. You get the crackers out of the pantry and I’ll take care of our water.”

      Half an hour later, with their meal eaten and the dishwasher loaded, Audrey and Tam curled up together on opposite ends of the plush chenille sofa in Tam’s living room. Each held a cup of herbal tea.

      “Want to tell me?” Audrey asked.

      Tam glanced down at the cup of tea that she cradled in both hands. “No. I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want to admit what a stupid, ungrateful bitch I am. I don’t want to say it out loud.”

      “If you don’t want to, then don’t. But if you think it will help, maybe release some pent-up emotions, then tell me. Whatever you say, you know I won’t repeat it to another living soul. And I won’t judge you.”

      “You never have,” Tam said. “My parents think I’m practically perfect. And Marcus…oh, Audrey, he does think I’m perfect.”

      “No one is perfect, but you come mighty damn close.”

      “How can you say that when you know…? Oh God, you know me better than anyone else on earth. You know how far from perfect I am. If my parents knew how I’d let them down, they’d be so disappointed. If Marcus knew…”

      “You have never disappointed Geraldine and Willie, and if they knew, they would be loving and supportive. And if Marcus knew, he would understand. You were barely eighteen. You did what you thought was best for everyone involved. And I was right there with you, agreeing with your decision and holding your hand.”

      Tam looked at Audrey, her brown eyes filled with unshed tears. “If you had been in my situation, would you have…? Would you have killed your own baby?”

      Audrey set aside her tea, then took the cup from Tam and set it beside hers on the coffee table. She scooted across the sofa, draped her arm around Tam’s shoulders, and leaned her head over against Tam’s.

      They sat there in silence for quite a while, two friends remembering a tragedy from the past. Audrey understood that even after all these years, Tam still felt regret, remorse, and guilt. She managed to keep that long-ago heartbreak buried deep inside her, but occasionally it resurfaced.

      “What do I tell Marcus when he wants to have a baby?” Tam asked. “He hasn’t come right out and said he’s ready, but he’s dropped a few subtle hints.”

      “Tell him the truth. Tell him about the abortion.”

      Tam inhaled deeply and exhaled strongly. “I don’t know if I want a baby. Hell, I don’t even know for sure I can have one.”

      “There is no reason to think that because of the abortion, you can’t get pregnant,” Audrey assured her. “But being able to get pregnant and wanting to have a baby are two different things. If you don’t want a baby because of what happened when you were a teenager, then I recommend some counseling to help you—”

      Tam laughed, but when Audrey glanced at her face, she saw tears running down Tam’s cheeks.

      “Well, that was a really impersonal and rather condescending statement, wasn’t it?” Audrey said. “I’m sorry, Tam. I let Dr. Sherrod inject herself into a situation where she had no business being. This talk is between you and me, Tam and Audrey, best friends since we were babies.”

      “It’s all right,” Tam said. “And it’s not as if you haven’t been trying to get me into counseling for years.”

      “I’m a bossy know-it-all.”

      “Yes, you are, but I love you anyway.”

      “I know. Thank you.”

      “Audrey?”

      “Hmm…?” She didn’t know if she was prepared for whatever Tam wanted to tell her. They had shared all their secrets over the years, trusting each other completely, but Audrey suspected there was one secret that Tam hadn’t shared with anyone.

      “You know that I love Marcus. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. He makes me so happy.”

      “I know, and I’m very grateful to him. I love seeing you happy. I want only good things for you because you deserve only good things.”

      “Do I?”

      Audrey took Tam’s hands in hers. “Yes, you do.”

      “I love Marcus, but…”

      “But?”

      “I don’t know if I can say it out loud. I don’t know if I dare.”

      She squeezed Tam’s hands.

      “A part of me—that stupid teenage girl—is still in love with Hart.”

      Audrey released the breath she’d been holding and wrapped her arms around Tam, who clung to Audrey as she cried.

      “How stupid does that make me?”

      Oh, Tam, I knew. I knew, but I didn’t want to know.

      And she also knew that no matter how much Tam and Hart had loved each other, how much they still loved each other, there was absolutely no hope for them as a couple. Not then. Not now. Not ever.