Page 68 of Offside Attraction

When she was finished, Anne licked her fork and shot Tina a look.

Tina looked very seriously at Rhonda. “You broke your rules.”

Rhonda took another bite of pie. Both of their pieces were gone, but she’d been blabbing the whole time. “Yeah.”

“Youlikehim.”

Rhonda shoved another bite in her mouth, and her eyes welled with tears. “Yeah.”

Anne got a look on her face like the rabbit in Bambi. All heart eyes and thumping foot. “You can’t stop thinking about him.”

Rhonda groaned and took a drink of water. “I need to make it stop!” She set her glass down and pulled at her shirt. “It’s like this burning in my chest, and I feel too hot, and then I’m constantly shaking, and I feel sick—like really sick—and?—”

“Holy shit. You’re falling for him. Hard.” Tina whispered.

That’s when she started to cry. Big, fat tears rolled onto her cheeks, and Anne grabbed onto her, pulling her face straight down to her boobs.

Rhonda didn’t care. She sobbed into her bosom like a five-year-old, letting Anne stroke her hair. “I think I’m dying!” She knew what all of this must look like to her emotionally stable, relationship capable friends, but death felt like the most real possibility at the moment.

She couldn’t think straight. Didn’t care about anything like she used to. Her thoughts ignored any of the important things in her life, instead orbiting anything Jordan related she could grasp onto.

“I think I’m depressed. Or maybe I have an anxiety disorder?” She pulled her head up, her face streaked with tears. “Maybe I just need to get on some medication or?—”

“No!” Anne shook her shoulders. “This is normal, okay? This is what all of us feel likeall the time!”

“What is it Brett always says?” Tina snapped her fingers. “That sober acronym . . ."

“Oh yeah! ‘Son Of a Bitch, Everything’s Real.’” Anne laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly it.” Her eyes snapped back to Rhonda. “You’re getting sober.”

Rhonda blinked. Sure, she drank socially, but she wasn’t out of control. “I don’t have a drinking problem.”

Anne motioned for her to take another bite of pie while Tina handed her a tissue to wipe her eyes. “No, babe. You have a control problem.”

Rhonda chewed, the warm spices diffusing over her tongue. “What?”

Tina gave a hesitant smile. “You’ve been white knuckling for a long time.”

“I don’t get it.” Rhonda looked between the two of them. Wasn’t being in charge of your life a good thing? "Get it under control" was a literal life success strategy.

“Besides this, when was the last time you told somebody—anybody—how you really felt about something?” Tina asked.

Rhonda frowned. “I tell you guys what I think all the time.”

“Yeah, what you think. But what about how you feel?” Anne let that settle in a moment. “You talk about your work, about the people you meet, the asshole doctors. We joke about it, we laugh, but I have no idea what it actually feels like for you. Do you ever feel scared? Lonely when you’re on those trips by yourself?”

Rhonda opened her mouth, then closed it again. Yes. She felt those things. But that wasn’t something she would ever say out loud.

Tina rested her elbows on the counter. “Or when you talk about the guys you sleep with. You have the best stories, hilarious. But what about when you walk out the door? What about when you were sitting at Country and Jenna’s wedding? You didn’t say a word about that?—”

“I was happy for them,” Rhonda interjected.

“Yeah, I know, but you also got completely hammered after the reception.” Anne held out the whipped cream, but Rhonda shook her head.

“Okay.” Rhonda’s head was spinning. “Okay,” she repeated. “So what you’re saying is . . . people talk about those things.”

“Yes.” Anne nodded her head.

“But I’ve never talked about those things.” Her hands were clammy. She set her fork down next to her plate.

---