There are times in her life now when she feels she is the balm in Gilead, meeting the heartbroken in their moment of need.

Like when Nancy called her from the road last weekend, voice full of tears, Fairfax knew it was one of these times. She mouthed a “thank you” heavenward and eased into the banquette to listen.

Because that is what her good friend needed. An ear to hear.  Later came her words, her advice.  But at first, Fairfax has learned throughout her life, as daughter, sister, wife, and mother, you just have to hear what your loved one is saying.

Bear witness to the story.

Seek to understand it.  That was one of those seven habits that were so popular once upon a time.  Fairfax had memorized them, then forgotten all but that one.  Because it was the most relevant for motherhood.  Try to see it from the child’s perspective first.

Before you convince him he was wrong and then give the appropriate punishment. Ha!

Fairfax chuckles to herself. Those were the days—can’t do it like that once they’re in college. She’s lying on the bed, crushing the freshly washed comforter, fluffed courtesy of her mother-in-law.  Whose zealous laundry habits have not changed.  With an eagle eye spotting problems that aren’t problems at all, like a stain on a kitchen towel.

Or her daughter-in-law being more tired than normal.  Losing weight. 

Jeez, Lucinda! Fairfax groans now just thinking about it. How ridiculous.

She steps on the scale once a week, and the number has always been the same.  One hundred twenty pounds, thank you very much.  Of course, Mike doesn’t trust their bathroom scale; he opts for a public weigh-in in Publix.

As for Fairfax being fatigued, well, that’s absurd too.  She’s likes to enjoy an occasional rest in the afternoons.  What’s wrong with that? Anyone would say she’s earned it—the house renovation is mostly finished, just a few odds and ends left.  And it’s not like Fairfax has to drive all over town like she used to, ferrying the boys here and there.  And when they left home, they took their mounds of laundry, their homework questions, their bottomless appetites with them.  College did away with half her job duties.  So what if she uses the found time to lounge around?

Lucinda’s worry needs to find another target.  Her anxiety couched as “concern” is really starting to bug Fairfax.

That’s why hearing Nancy’s story, then mulling it over, reflecting on it, had done Fairfax a world of good.  It took her mind out of this house, this Figueroa-thick cocoon.

Truly, the listener gains something from the teller.  Taking in the highs and lows of another’s narrative is good exercise for the soul.  Nancy was the tonic Fairfax needed.

Not that Mike would agree.  Talk about disappointment!  You’d have thought Fairfax had told him she wanted a divorce when all she did was cancel their trip to Amelia on Saturday.  A trip that could easily be rescheduled.  She had explained this to him several times, trying to get him to see if from her perspective.

Seek first to understand.

But Mike’s perspective didn’t shift a smidgen, and he walked off without a word.  Fairfax’s first thought was that she’d spiked his blood pressure, then she batted that fear away.  One Lucinda in the house was enough.

Fig didn’t seem to understand that Nancy, at that very moment, had been heading straight to their house to tell Fairfax everything!  The whole story of Adam Ainsley, his behavior, his…well…secret.  Nancy’s voice on the phone kept cutting in and out, and she was unsure about Georgia’s laws on cell usage while driving, so she asked to come over first thing.  She was on her way, going to drive right up to Fairfax’s door, shuffle in and unburden herself in person.  Over a glass of wine, and then another.

How could Mike not fathom that Fairfax wasn’t about to say, “Hold your desperation, Plumb, I’m headed to Amelia for a quickie getaway with my husband?” No, she could not deny her friend. It would have been cruel!

Besides, Fairfax had learned that if you delay a person, put them off for a while, circumstances can change, and so will the story.  People will naturally progress past needing your help, needing you.

And Nancy had not needed Fairfax for months.  To be called on as a life saver, well, Fairfax couldn’t deny this need. Timing is everything, and she had the time that day.  Their friendship has been perfectly calibrated for Nancy to spill into Fairfax’s house on Saturday, a jittery ghost of her normal self.  And for Fairfax to comfort this new Nancy, to begin to reconcile the strange with the familiar.  To help her in this process.

Still, Mike seemed to be holding a grudge.  This week, he’d stayed longer at work, not arriving home until nearly seven ‘o clock.  And once there, he seemed to find conversations with Lucinda and Max much more stimulating than his own wife.

And Max! He was as much of a pest as his mother! On Saturday, sniffing around Nancy and Fairfax’s conversation while they were on the patio, approaching several times to refill their glasses when they didn’t need it.  Fairfax just knew he was eavesdropping on what was a private, confidential with a capital C, conversation.  A discussion of monumental importance which didn’t need the distraction of yet another man.  Max’s presence irritated Fairfax so much, she finally scooped up Chum, grabbed Nancy by the arm, and took them up to the master bedroom. Even through the closed door, she swore she heard footsteps in the hall outside, slowing and stalling to listen. Max.  He just wouldn’t give up.

Actually, Fairfax realized later, that could have been Lucinda, eavesdropping.  Mike once told her that, as a teenager, he would tiptoe to his bedroom door and fling it open, and there Luce would be, leaning forward with one ear out, caught in the act.  She always pretended she was about to knock, to ask what he wanted for dinner, which was a joke, her son said.  Because it was always picadillo, so why would she ask?

Fairfax groans, stretching her short body as far as she can, arms overhead.  Her toes crack and she rotates her ankles, noting her feet aren’t anywhere close to the end of the bed.  She’d bought the extra-long mattress for her tall husband.

Lord, she supposed she was going to have to make it up to Mike.  Today.  Fairfax would do it today—book another trip to Amelia.  Or, better yet to North Carolina.  Go to the mountains, pop in to see Jack en route.  That is actually what she would have preferred anyway, mountains instead of beach, but when she had originally suggested it, Mike had pursed his lips, like he’d licked a lemon.  Said they should avoid NC for the time being, since Dorian had just hit there.

Fairfax runs her fingers over the top of her head, snagging them on a small tangle.  As she roots out the knot, she wonders how Nancy’s day is going.  She’s at work, trying to dig her way out of a pile of work, half-completed projects and plans that gathered dust for the past year, while her body and soul were mostly in Atlanta. Fairfax has offered to help her with some of the menial work, since they fired that sweet Martha last year.  Filing, shredding, whatever Nancy needs done.

Knocking off simple tasks one by one.

Getting through a to-do list gives you some control over your life, but thus far, Nancy hasn’t let Fairfax help her out with work.  So Fairfax does the next best thing for her friend: she brings her dinner.  Last night, she even stayed to share it with Nancy.

Chicken salad from Zoe’s Kitchen.  Fairfax had picked up the full size tub, and they ate every bit of it.  Followed it up with slices of gooey chocolate cake.  They considered a bottle of wine but decided to pass because their stomachs were so full.  Reclining on half of Nancy’s sectional, Fairfax felt that well-fed, sleepy feeling that she always associated with childhood weekends.

“Oh my, I could go to sleep right now,” Fairfax had moaned.

Nancy had smiled in agreement, her bottom lip smeared with dark icing. “I know. I’m feel stuffed.”

“But, good, right?”

Her friend had nodded.  “Yes, good.” She licked her lips, then wiped them with a balled up napkin.  “You, Fair?”

“What?”

“Are you feeling good?” Nancy’s eyes were tired, there were definitely circles underneath.  Milky blue saucers to her brown teacup eyes.

My heart’s a kettle, you the stove.

“Well.” Fairfax’s leg flopped to the floor. Ah, Nancy what he did to you, though he didn’t mean to.

“Well what?”

“I mean I’m ‘well.’” Fairfax pushed herself upright, stomach sloshing a bit with the effort.  Yep, no wine had been the right decision. “I think a little digestion would help, but otherwise…” She smiled at Nancy.

“Otherwise?” Nancy sat up too. She searched the floor for her flip flops and then eased them on her feet.

“I haven’t felt this ‘well’ in a long time.”

“Good.” There was one more bite of Fairfax’s cake left.  Nancy nodded towards it, her angled head posing the question.

Fairfax shook her head, and wordlessly Nancy scooped up the chocolate dollop with her fingertip, then licked it clean.  “That’s all the cake, none for you, buddy.” She gathered up their plates, moving them carefully out of her dog’s reach. Fairfax followed Nancy into the kitchen, one step behind the snorting Chum.

Waddled behind the dog, is more like it, Fairfax thinks now.  Oh, she ate too much for sure. But still, it had been fun. They had rinsed the dishes in companionable silence, stacking them in the newly functional dishwasher.  On behalf of Nancy, Fairfax had called the repairman that morning and waited in the unit while he fixed the machine.  She had heard the relief in her friend’s voice when she told her that chore could be crossed off the list.

It certainly helps combat stress to have a fully livable, functional home.  When the outside world wears you down, shore up your inside world, Fairfax has always said.  Fix it, tweak it, refine it, then, and only then, can you hunker down in security.

And Nancy certainly needed a solid home, a good refuge, after what she had been through.  Regardless of how you interpreted the events of the past month, Nancy was still shell-shocked and needed to regroup her logic, her emotions—her self—in the comfort of the familiar.  Her job, her home, her dog.

And Fairfax.

The least she can do for her friend at this time is comfort her.  Listen first, of course, then comfort.

Then, of necessity, advise.

And that is where Fairfax has always shone, in counseling others.  Some might call her nosy, even bossy, her sons would agree with that, probably.  But they would all be wrong. Because Fairfax does not meddle in other people business.  She is not another Lucinda.

Fairfax gives careful, thoughtful advice to those who have asked for it.  Like Nancy.

And, goodness knows, Nancy needed her help.  It was mind boggling to tackle—how to sort through the whole relationship? To look at the breadth and depth of it, from 1985 ‘til now?  You’d have to confide in someone important, a longitudinal friend, Nancy’s new word for her.  Such a long-term friend has the background and familiarity and experience to tell you what you should do.  Whether or not you agree with such a friend is another story.

And Fairfax still can’t tell if Nancy agrees with her advice or not.  So, she’s not pushing it.  She’ll just be there, with maintenance men and Zoe’s, to see her friend through this crisis.

Speaking of which, what to bring to Nancy for dinner tonight?  Fried chicken is always a good bet, Nancy’s favorite, and Mike can’t eat it anymore, so it would nice to taste this forbidden fruit.  Fairfax will just have to hide the fact that she bought it for Nancy, and not her husband.  Because his feelings might be hurt.  Again.

But come to think of it, Mike didn’t even ask about Nancy last night when she came home.  Didn’t even look up when Fairfax came up to bed.  Simply harrumphed a hello.

So, forget trying to hide fried chicken from him, or any other fat and salt-laden foodstuff. In fact, let all of them—Mike, Max, Lucinda—fend for themselves tonight. It occurs to Fairfax that she is weary of arranging meals for them, fending off Lucinda’s salt shaker all the while, when all they do is shovel her food down without a word of thanks.  While Max moons over Nancy, Lucinda worries about Fairfax’s health problems, and Mike sits there, mute.

A thought pipes up at the back of her mind, whistles its way to the front.  Before Fairfax knows it, the memory is there, discordant enough to become a worry.

She was supposed to call Dr. Redmond’s office back this afternoon.  The nurse had left her a voicemail around lunchtime, and Fairfax had ignored it at the time.  She was trying to change her Amazon password and couldn’t seem to get the job done.  Amazon kept asking if she was a robot, and she couldn’t see the test pictures well enough to answer their questions correctly.  In the end, Fairfax gave up on the password change.

She should really call Redmond’s office. It was almost four o’clock, though.  Didn’t they close at four?

Fairfax had just been in there yesterday, but her most recent labs hadn’t come in.  The receptionist said they’d call with the results, so it was probably nothing.  They were just closing the loop because Peter’s office staff was very thorough.

So, it’s probably nothing. It won’t hurt to wait until tomorrow to call them back.  Fairfax will do it first thing in the morning.

Maybe she’ll be able to talk to Peter directly.  Ask his nurse to put him on the line after she hears her results.  Fairfax misses her conversations with him, those wonderful dinners, back when he and Nancy were going out.  And, let’s face it, since they broke up, her office appointments with Dr. Redmond have been abbreviated.  He used to chat more, but now he’s all business.

Fairfax sighs.  Well, Peter Redmond had moved on.  She’d seen him at the Arts Market, underneath the Fuller Warren Bridge, back when she was still doing long walks. (Gosh those long walks with Nancy—how had they managed in the heat?) Peter was with a slim strawberry blonde—cute girl.  Fairfax had waved and he had waved back, but they hadn’t spoken.  He looked happy, and something stopped her from approaching, from meeting his new girlfriend.

Yesterday in his office, Fairfax had held herself back too.  She wanted to break through the barrier, connect with the Peter Redmond, MD, she knew from before.  She had a burning question regarding Nancy, what she had been through.  Fairfax had done a fair amount of research since Saturday, but some of the sites were not as reputable as others.  They seemed okay, with credentialed contributors, but Fairfax sensed junk science lurking there.  She was dying to ask Peter about credible medical sources on the topic, which ones he would recommend, because he just might know something about this condition.

Or maybe not.  It wasn’t in his field.

Still, Fairfax almost asked him, then bit her tongue.  Because she knew if she asked him a question, he might ask her one in return, and they would parry back and forth like in the old days, and then she might spill the beans about Nancy.

And Adam.

Fairfax thinks now about the word “covenant.” Nancy had told her a secret, and she must protect it, not share it. Even with someone who might have medical insight.  It was a promise baked into the anam cara relationship.

Fairfax had not even told Mike what had happened, but that’s no surprise with how remote he’s been lately.  Practically the only time he’s spoken to her all week was to make a comment about Nancy now staying put in Jacksonville.

“So, old Nance is back for good, huh?” he’d asked, rolling over in bed to face the other way.

Fairfax had cleared her throat.  Of course, she usually told him most everything, pillow talk being her usual justification.  But she couldn’t tell him this nugget about her best friend.  Not yet. Nancy’s experience was still all raw hurt and vulnerability, which Fairfax was determined to tend to, with calm and humor and good fact-based information.

Besides, the removed way Fig had been acting, it hurt Fairfax’s feelings.  He didn’t deserve to know anything right now about her friendship with Nancy.

You hurt his feelings first. You started it.

Her conscience snaps at her resolve, and she snaps back, Enough!  Mike is an adult—he should be used to the occasional marital disappointment.

Fairfax glances at her watch.  Good time to run to Publix, before the after-work rush.  But the thought of getting up, washing her face, slapping on some lipstick, etc., etc., is suddenly overwhelming.  Too much effort, when new delivery services will do it for you.

Fairfax scoots to the edge of the bed and reaches for her laptop on the floor.  She hauls it up to the mattress and taps a key to bring it to life. Ah, the site she bookmarked!  Use it to order food to be delivered to Nancy’s condo directly.  That way, Fairfax can just hop in the car and drive up the street.  She’ll let herself into Nancy’s unit and be there to set up dinner.  Hopefully, it’ll arrive before Nancy does.

Fairfax starts clicking through dinner options then notices some other tabs still open from her earlier search.  Two of these are good, she can tell.  One is from a credible, long-established association. It has helpful information for her friend—practical, soul-settling advice.

And the other, a Christian blog about life challenges, is inspiring.  Fairfax used to read it every day, when she was first diagnosed with cancer.  Somehow, she quit reading it along the way, but coming back to it, she sees its wisdom. Its universal applicability.

Because none of us is perfect.  We’re all sick or damaged in some way or another, yet we are meant to live in a dangerous world and succeed.

And, dear Lord, when the danger is within our own bodies, with Your strength, we succeed.