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I was devastated. I could barely talk to you for months. Then Birgit died, and I knew that would rip your heart out and that you would be hurting even more than I was. I thought maybe we’d be together and it would fix the pain. It did, for a while, but in the end, the only thing that fixed the pain for you was going to Birgit’s grave and then making love with her through Karin. For me, I never got over that hurt and the feeling of being abandoned.”I started crying. Jennifer had never told me those things. I wondered if it was her therapist who helped bring them out. It probably was. I was a fucking idiot. An asshole. All those names that she’d called me and others had called me over the years.“I had no idea, Jennifer. Why didn’t you tell me?”“I couldn’t. I was afraid of how you would react. You were so volatile and couldn’t see your own mistakes. Every time I confronted you about things, you freaked out and had one of your dramatic incidents. I don’t know why I stayed with you back. “Your fiancée is a lucky woman,” I say, then he helps me up from the bar. I put my bra and shirt back on to a chorus of “boos” from the crowd, but Madeline swoops in, hops up on the bar, and pulls her shirt off to take my place, and the “boos” are quickly replaced with cheers. “Rachel!” I hear my name called and turn to find Britney, who takes my hand. “I haven’t been in the shadowbox tonight,” she says. I follow her over to the lighted box and step inside with her. We know exactly how to pose together to make sensual silhouettes visible from the floor of the club. We don’t even have to touch in order to appear to be touching…to the guys in the club it appears that our breasts are rubbing together, our legs entwined, our hands caressing the other’s body. We’re giggling and posing, like little kids making shadow animals with their fingers, when suddenly the door to the box opens, and there’s the good-looking guy from the bachelor party that I met at the hockey game. The one whose name.
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