Free MWF Seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche Page B

ladder. I’ve already told Matt we’ll be attending the shindig, to which he responded with a halfhearted “Okay.” I expect to be met with more reluctance closer to the date, but I take note of the fact that, whether he was listening or not, he agreed. It’s not that Matt hates human interaction or anything—he’s great in a crowd, a real charmer—but the group of people at this party will undoubtedly be his ex-girlfriend’s crew. We’re married now, and she’s engaged, so in theory we’ve all moved on. But still, it could be weird.
    In the planning stages of our dinner, I suggested Jen invite her friend Alison. Yes, I know this goes against everything I stand for—I’d be the first to march the anti-threesome-date picket line—but I’ve known Jen and Alison, as a duo, since college. Asking one without the other feels wrong. So I don’t.
    The three of us meet at Flat Top, the downtown location of a stir-fry restaurant we loved in college. Jen and Alison are your quintessential Midwestern BFFs. Pretty, blond, totally wholesome-looking. They could be cover girls for
Today’s Chicago Woman
or, better yet,
Windy City BFF Weekly.
    While playing catch-up, we exchange updates on all our mutual acquaintances. I try to nonchalantly get in some questions about Matt’s ex.
    “So, when’s Molly getting married?”
    “Um, like, January?” Phrasing statements as questions is a sure sign of discomfort. I ignore this.
    “Oh, that’s nice, where? Georgia?” I’m trying to sound cavalier, and Molly’s from Atlanta.
    “Yeah, I think so.” Jen looks to Alison for confirmation. Or maybe a bailout.
    “Gotcha. Well do you have a lot of bachelorette parties coming up?” I’m putting on a bad show, pretending to ask only because we’ve talked about their whole college gang and not because, eight years later, I’m still irrationally wary of Molly. But Jen and Alison know I’ve always been disturbingly fascinated with their friend.
    They’re both noticeably tight-lipped. Either they’ve had a falling-out, or Molly has told them not to even utter her name in my presence. Both scenarios are plausible, but from where I’m sitting she’s starting to feel like the elephant in the room. I decide to let it go. For now.
    Other than Molly’s looming presence, the dinner is great. I really like them both. I liked them in college, too, but we were in different groups of friends and, given the fact that I competed with their BFF for Matt’s affection sophomore year, a close friendship was never in the cards. Maybe things are different now. We talk TV, their new book club (what is it with this town? For two years I couldn’t find a book group anywhere and suddenly they’re slapping me in the face), career goals, and Jen’s upcoming party. We laugh a lot. Eventually they ask about our wedding and, because they knew Matt so well in college, I tell them about his father. Then I mention my own father’s death, only in reference to how bittersweet it was that I could be there for Matt in such a real way.
    At the end of the evening Jen turns to Alison. “Can you drive me around Saturday so I can pick up some stuff for my party?”
    The request is so nonchalant. Just a favor between best friends. There was no “This is probably a huge pain but …” or “Can you do me the biggest favor in the world?” Just “Can you drive me around?” No big thing. That’s what I want! I want to drive someone on errands!
That
is friendship. I think about offering to be said driver, but bite my tongue. “Hi, I know this is the first time we’ve hung out in, like, ever, but I’ll give up my Saturday to be your chauffeur!” I’ve learned to avoid overt signs of friendship desperation.
    The next day, I get on Facebook to do some detective work. A quick peek through Alison’s pictures tells me she went to visit Molly in Atlanta not too long ago. There was no falling-out. I wonder what this means for our relationship. Will it be