Four Friends by Robyn Carr Read Free Book Online Page A

would be canceling credit cards, closing the joint accounts and would have copies of the statements for him, a final accounting. She knew he had a company credit card he could use, but still she asked if he needed money.
    He came for his things that very night. He told her, in a very subdued, boyish way, that he’d be fine financially. She knew in that instant that he was relieved to be free of her—she cramped his style. He was not the kind of man ready to have serious ties. She didn’t bring up the house—there was already a divorce lien on its proceeds of sale from her first husband. It appeared Bryce was going to take his belongings and go away quietly, content to have the ball and chain removed from his life. There was something about the simplicity of it that hurt more than the screaming fights. He was so easily done. Finished. Why couldn’t she have made the break long ago? She knew why—it was embarrassing to be so foolish, so wrong, at her age.
    When Bryce came, he was with one of his closest friends, using his truck to load the big screen, sound system and speakers, boxes of clothes and books, toiletries and miscellany. Bryce rode away behind his possessions on his motorcycle and all the while Bob, working in the kitchen, managed to stay very busy and very quiet. It was completely over in an hour and Bryce would never be back. He hadn’t even waved goodbye.
    The trash was full of Sonja’s concoctions, the entire house was filled with dust from Bob’s construction in the kitchen plus the odor of burnt sage from Sonja’s cleansing voodoo. Gerri, who was Andy’s rock, was distracted by some heavy work problem and felt terrible about her lack of support, but Andy reassured her that she was getting along pretty well. She’d gone back to work the morning after the boy toys disappeared from her life.
    While there was a part of her that wished for quiet and solitude in the evenings, there was another part grateful that Bob was in her kitchen, pleasantly working away as the sun set. She sat on her bed with the news on, there being no TV in the family room anymore, and took odd comfort in the humming, whistling and construction noise.
    She wandered into the kitchen. “How’s it going?” she asked him.
    “Good,” he said. The crowbar was being used to pry the old, chipped ceramic tiles off the floor. “Very good.”
    “I’m going to have a glass of wine,” she said. “What can I give you?”
    “Oh, I’m just fine with water.”
    “I didn’t mean I was going to get you liquored up,” she laughed. “I realize you use power tools. But how about a cola or something?”
    He looked up from his work, smiling. He wiped a rag across his sweating bald head. “That would sure be nice, thanks.”
    She went for a glass in the laundry room where she kept the few dishes she needed since the kitchen cupboards had been torn out and carried away. The refrigerator was purring along in the garage now. She couldn’t actually cook anything but she could get ice and keep things cold. As she looked inside she said, “Hey, have you eaten?”
    “I have,” he said. “Had something on my way over.”
    “How about Beau?” she asked, and as she did so, the yellow Lab lifted his head and looked at her with those sad eyes that suggested he hadn’t been fed in days, lying eyes that made her laugh.
    “Don’t believe a word he says. I always take care of Beau first,” Bob said.
    She poured his cola, her white wine. She settled at the table in the nook, still undisturbed and covered with dust. “Could I ask you a personal question?”
    He glanced over his shoulder. “Sure. If I get confused by it, I’ll make up an answer.”
    “Funny,” she said. “Why did you and your wife separate?”
    “Oh, that,” he chuckled. “It’s real simple, actually. She left me. She’s gay.”
    Andy actually choked on her first swallow of wine. “Gay?” she echoed.
    He laughed. “Don’t ask me the chronology of that, okay? I mean,