The Lost Girls by Jennifer Baggett Page B

going to change that,” he’d said, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me closer. He’d said that someday he might accept a role that’d take him away. And there’d probably be many more times in life when one of us would want to chase a big goal. He stopped for a second as my body relaxed against his in relief. He rationalized that, in the end, it’d just make our relationship stronger because we’d really understand who we were and what we wanted to do.
    I fell a little deeper for him then, completely grateful for granting me the opportunity to explore without taking back his love. In fact, we’d decided that my time on the road would be the perfect shot for him to go after his own dream by temporarily moving to L.A. to pursue his acting career. It felt as though everything made perfect sense.
    As I tried to explain the winding path Elan and I had walked to come to that understanding, Jen was uncharacteristically mute. It made me realize that, until that moment, she hadn’t let a millisecond of silence hang between us—not even pausing to breathe between sentences. I let it hang.
    Finally she said, “Um, that’s really highly evolved of him. I know Brian won’t be that supportive.” She hoisted her now-overflowing bag of brochures higher on her shoulder.
    â€œHow’s it going for you two?” I asked, accepting a flyer from a tourist operator for safaris in Kenya.
    â€œHonestly, we’ve been fighting so much the past few months I’m not even sure if we’ll make it to the summer,” she said, her blue eyes growing darker and her eyebrows drawing together in worry.
    â€œOh, Jen, I’m so sorry,” I said, biting my lip. “Is it because of the trip?”
    â€œIt’s just everything! I’ve been with this guy for over three years and love him to death, but how do you know when you find the person you’re supposed to spend forever with? Everyone keeps asking me when he’s going to propose!”
    I was silent for a second myself, not really knowing what to say. Though I never lusted after the proverbial white dress and wedding bells, I could definitely relate to the pressure she was feeling. My own mother was questioning my motives after I had signed a second lease with Elan without the security of a ring on my finger. “Why would he step up to the plate when you’re already giving him everything for free?” she’d asked. I’d told her that the rules of love and marriage had changed since her generation, and I was living my life as I wanted. Since I didn’t know what to say to Jen, I said nothing and instead reached out to squeeze her shoulder to let her know I understood.
    Somehow it didn’t seem strange to launch right into such a personal topic with Jen, who wasn’t one to hold back whatever she was feeling when she felt it. Before our vacation to Argentina last year, I’d seen Jen only a few times at group happy hours. She kept her golden brown hair blown out straight, usually wore at least one item in a shade of pink, and almost matched my height of 5 feet 4 inches (okay, 5 feet 3 3 /4 inches) without her three-inch heels. But she also didn’t seem like the typical girly girl: she laughed hard, spoke loud, and tended to voice the uncensored version of her thoughts. Since then I’d learned a bit more, like that Jen was a film addict with a flair for the dramatic herself. With her resonant voice and sweeping gestures, she struck me as a modern-day Katharine Hepburn. While Amanda was definitely ballsy, her quicksilver emotions gave her an air of vulnerability, while Jen’s tendency toward total openness made her come across as almost fearless to me. So it also seemed fitting that she’d committed to such a big adventure.
    â€œCome to India!” a woman with henna-stained hands and a scarlet sari beckoned, waving a brochure with an “Om”