This is something I question: When I see a friend heading down a difficult road, how much do I confront, and how much do I accept knowing I’ll be there to pick up the pieces? How much am I the listening, loving friend and how much should I point out the danger? How much do I receive and how much do I warn? I see danger here. Kevin was clear from the beginning that he didn’t want more children. Rosie is changing the basis of their contract. Is a baby worth a marriage? Maybe. Friends are going to do what they’re driven to do regardless. And, regardless, I’ll be there. I’m not in the business of change.

And Rosie seems to live a life that proves the unlikely is possible. It’s how she thinks of herself. She looked away and then looked back at me and said, “If you were about to die, what would you say was the most important thing you’ve done?”

And I gave her the answer she anticipated. “My children.”

She shrugged one shoulder.

I sipped on the wine and said, “Rosie, you always succeed at the difficult and make things work by the skin of your teeth. I hope you can skate through this, too.” We all keep doing the things that worked for us, even when they quit working. Of course, we don’t know that they don’t work anymore until it’s too late.

Now, eight months later, when Rosie asks if I’ve heard from Sky and how’s Tara, I know that her question is laden with vicarious hope, fear, terror. And jealousy. And me, I’m reminded I have a potential for such riches … or such loss.

“Tara should be here any minute. She’s bringing the cookie virgin and then visiting a friend. So you’ll get to see her.”

“Oh, I love it when we have new cookie bitches…. She’s co-grandma, right?”

I chuckle. “Yep. Tara’s bringing her from Detroit.” I check my watch. “And Sky is hearing about her test anytime. I hoped she’d call by now.”

Charlene places cutlery in symmetrical stacks. “How’re you?”

“Incredibly busy. Our office Christmas party is next week and the caterer is fussing about the arrangements and the bar fund raiser is the next night and we’re both on the board. So! I haven’t had a moment to breathe.” Rosie expands her lungs and exhales to accelerate the point. “And then,” she continues almost as though she’s forgotten, “it’s Kevin’s daughter’s, my stepdaughter’s, birthday right after Christmas and we’re all supposed to go to Steamboat and hit the slopes. All good things. All soooo exciting and soooo busy and I don’t know how I’ll get it all done.” Her layered tresses sway and shift and then she flashes a glossed grin that wipes away her show of exasperation.