The Remedy for Regret Read Online Free PDF Page A

July morning. That one, daylong experience bound us together in a strange kind of way, as if we were both survivors of the same plane crash or something. Jewel was bound to me after that experience too, in the same kind of way, but because Jewel and Blair never hit it off well, it has always seemed different somehow. It still surprises me that Blair continued to want my friendship long after she rose to the ranks of popular girls in our middle school, as well as long after we both moved from Arkansas to other bases.
    In the beginning, when Blair and I first met, we were both so hungry for companionship because of our just-moved misery, we didn’t realize that was the only thing we truly had in common. Well, that’s not entirely true. She was starving for a mother’s love just like I was even though she still had her mother. Aside from that, we were about as different as we could be.
    When we met, she was already “boy crazy” as my Dad liked to describe her and wore a face full of make-up everywhere we went, even to the pool on base. I liked boys but I was too afraid to approach one or even let Blair know which ones I liked best. She had a figure well before her thirteenth birthday and deep, wide eyes that looked even bigger when lined with mascara and eye shadow. Blair also had perfect hair, nice clothes, and straight teeth and was never at a loss for words. Dad thought she was pushy and disrespectful and that she was falsely polite to him whenever she came over to the house. I used to defend her right and left but the truth was, he was right.
    I liked classical music and looking at maps and working jigsaw puzzles and Blair liked none of these things. My auburn hair, unlike her honey-blonde curls, was nondescript other than its color. People, especially women, commented that it was a very nice shade. But I didn’t know what to do with it and Dad never thought there was something to be done. I don’t blame him really. It just didn’t occur to him to think I might look good with a stylish haircut. That’s something a mom would have thought of. It wasn’t that Dad couldn’t buy me nice clothes either or didn’t, we just didn’t shop together very often. His parents would fly out from Wisconsin to see us every Christmas and summer, no matter where we were, and Grandma would always buy me new clothes. But Grandma’s idea of shopping for clothes was paging through the JC Penney catalog or maybe making a trip to Sears. Antonia would die if she knew how deprived I was of fashion sense before I met Blair. And Blair’s mother. Veronica Devere, Blair’s mom, spent very little time at home, and I hardly said more than a sentence to her a month, but whenever I did see her, she was always impeccably dressed. Most of the time when I was at Blair’s, Veronica was running out the house, late for something, but dressed in a beautifully coordinated outfit. I have a mannequin named after her, too.
    It’s funny; I didn’t have much in common with Jewel, either, but she remains one of the few friends, including Simon, whom I feel I could trust completely. And it’s kind of odd that I should feel that way because I hardly ever see her and neither one of us is very good about emailing or calling. She lives in Memphis, is a pastor’s wife like her mother, and has three little boys. The admiration I still feel for Jewel is partly because she reminds me of Corinthia, of course. But she also reminds me—more so than Blair—of that time in my life when everything changed for me, like a strong wind in the sail changes a ship’s direction — and its destination.

    Monica is done opening her presents and as she finishes, I am feeling a little awkward. Her baby ended up in my arms when Tracy and Caroline went to help Yvette in the kitchen. The baby is starting to tense in my arms as Monica makes her way to me. The baby is going to start wailing at any second. I smile with relief as Monica sits in the chair Tracy has vacated. All