SCS - Turning 40
Contemplations from Juliet and her friends
Sabina stopped answering the group chat three days before her birthday.
That was normal.
That was her version of participation.
Kiara did not interpret this as withdrawal.
Kiara interpreted it as consent in spirit form.
Which is how we ended up with:
a rented patio space
a cake tasting schedule
and Raye calling herself “creative director of emotional ambiance”
Burnt Pretzel arrived first. He was an amalgamation of a dachshund, a FRENCHIE, and something indistinguishable in between. BP wasn’t even his name, really. He was a foster, and that’s the first thing Sab said when Kiara sent him the picture.
He immediately attempted to eat a decorative pillow.
Kiara said “No” with the authority of someone who had already said “no” approximately seven hundred times that week.
The dog ignored her.
~*~
Raye walked in carrying a balloon arch she absolutely did not need.
“This is not subtle,” I said.
“It’s not supposed to be subtle,” she replied. “It’s a milestone birthday.”
“It’s a panic attack in latex form,” Kiara muttered.
Bri was already crying at the cake samples.
Not because anything was wrong.
Because one of them was called vanilla bean memory foam and she said it “sounded like grief.”
Nobody argued.
~*~
Sabina arrived late.
Of course she did.
She always arrived like time was something she negotiated with privately.
She didn’t react when she saw everything.
That was the first sign something was different.
No sigh.
No correction.
No “you didn’t have to do all this.”
Just stillness.
Like she was taking it in without deciding what category it belonged to yet.
~*~
Kiara rushed forward immediately.
“We tried to keep it simple—”
Raye cut in, “It is simple, it’s just emotionally curated simplicity—”
Bri said, “We weren’t sure about flowers so we did soft wild—”
I said nothing at first. Sabina was looking at all of us. Really looking. Then she smiled.
Small. Real.
“Okay,” she said.
Just that. Okay.
And somehow that was worse. Because it didn’t come with resistance. No pushback. No fight to win. Just acceptance.
Like she had decided to let us have this version of her.
The night unfolded in pieces. Not smoothly. Never smoothly. But together.
Raye made a speech that started as a toast and ended as a theatrical monologue about women becoming mythic through friendship.
Nobody stopped her.
It felt dangerous to interrupt her momentum.
Kiara cried when the cake arrived.
Then denied crying.
Then cried again when Burnt Pretzel tried to steal frosting.
Bri kept saying things like:
“This is temporally significant,”
which no one understood but emotionally agreed with.
I kept watching Sabina.
Noticing the gaps.
The pauses.
The way she didn’t lean into attention even when it was warm.
Sabina moved through it all gently.
Kindly.
Present.
She hugged Kiara longer than usual.
Let Raye cling to her without pulling away.
Even let Burnt Pretzel sit in her lap without complaint.
And then—
At some point between laughter and too much cake—
Sabina stepped outside.
No announcement. No explanation. Just movement. Quiet. Final.
I noticed first. She was on the patio. Smoke curling from between her fingers. Shoulders slightly lifted. Not relaxed. Not anymore.
“Sab?” I said carefully.
She didn’t turn immediately.
That was also new.
When she did, her face was composed.
Too composed.
The kind of calm that takes effort.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
Then paused.
Like she had surprised herself by saying it.
Inside, the noise of the others blurred.
Laughter.
Kiara arguing with Raye about candles.
Bri crying again for no clear reason.
Burnt Pretzel attempting to climb furniture.
Sabina looked back at it all.
Then away.
“It’s weird,” she said quietly.
Not to me.
Just into the air.
I waited.
“I think people like me more when I don’t say no.” The words weren’t dramatic. They were simple. Practiced.
“Sabina, that’s not—” I immediately started, and she sent me a long stare.
“I’m not easygoing,” she added. “I just learned when it wasn’t worth being difficult.”
Silence.
Inside, someone laughed loudly.
It didn’t reach the patio.
Sabina exhaled smoke slowly.
“I think people stopped hearing me say no,” she said.
“As long as I kept being ‘fine’ after.”
That landed differently.
Not accusation. Just clarity. Her eyes shone a little then. Not full tears. Just that sting before you decide whether to hold it in.
“I know you all love me,” she said quickly. “That’s not what I mean.”
I nodded. “Then what is it? Kiara ordered twelve dozen hydrangeas cause she knew they were your favorite…”
Sabina nodded. “I just don’t think you always know me.” A pause. “I think you know who I am when I’m not saying anything.”
That one hurt more.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
Inside, Kiara laughed too loudly.
Raye performed joy like oxygen.
Burnt Pretzel barked at nothing.
Sabina wiped under her eye quickly. Not breaking. Just reaching the edge of something she didn’t often let herself approach.
“Sabbie—” My throat clenched and I tried to hug her but her dark eyes shown.
“I’m going to come back in,” she said.
Not asking.
Not needing permission.
Just stating it.
Then softer:
“Don’t change anything.”
A pause.
“It’s nice.”
And she went back inside.
~*~
he rest of the night didn’t resolve anything. It didn’t fix or transform. It just continued. As things do.
Later, I looked at all of them.
And something in me stopped trying to make it make sense.
We weren’t becoming different people.
We were just finally being seen properly.
Burnt Pretzel farted again in the background. Nobody reacted this time.
Which, honestly, felt like progress.
~*~
The morning after, the house was too quiet for what it had survived.
Not peaceful quiet.
Observant quiet.
Like it was waiting for confessions.
Sabina was already up. She sat on the patio step again, coffee in hand. Stillness around her.
Not emptiness.
Just her.
Burnt Pretzel circled something in the grass like it had personally offended him.
The cat.
Kiara emerged first.
Hair chaotic.
Hoodie inside out.
“I regret nothing,” she said, which meant she regretted at least three things.
Raye followed immediately.
“I think last night was spiritually aligned—”
“Don’t,” Kiara said.
Bri came last.
“I feel like I understood time differently last night,” she said.
No one questioned it.
I didn’t speak at first.
I just sat down near Sabina.
Not too close.
Not too far.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
A pause.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
Not fully yes.
Not no.
Just enough.
Inside, something crashed.
Raye said, “That’s probably fine.”
It was not.
Burnt Pretzel had found the cat.
That was the problem.
Or one of them.
We watched in silence as Burnt Pretzel attempted friendship in a way that defied logic.
The cat left immediately.
No discussion.
No forgiveness.
Just exit.
Silence followed.
Then I laughed. Because it was unbearable not to. And then everyone else did too.
~*~
Later, Sabina said:
“I think I’m glad you did it.”
A pause.
“I didn’t say that last night.”
Kiara said, “Because you were overwhelmed?”
Sabina nodded.
“No.”
Then:
“Because I didn’t know how to be included in something like that without stepping outside myself.”
Bri said gently, “You don’t have to step outside yourself.”
Raye added, “We’ll just make room.”
Kiara added, “Badly.”
That got a small smile from Sabina.
I looked at all of them again.
And something settled.
Not fixed.
Not solved.
Just understood.
Not in a clean way.
Not in a finished way.
Just… enough.
Later that morning, I opened my laptop. The L’Engue draft was still there. But it didn’t feel like something I had to perform anymore.
Just something I had to finish.
~*~
My therapy app, MentalBean buzzed.
Lemar.
You didn’t write around them this time.
I stared at it.
Then replied:
No.
I think I stopped trying to stand outside it.
His reply came quickly.
That’s the work.
~*~
Outside, Kiara was already planning something new.
Raye was calling it “post-birthday integration brunch.”
Bri was crying about emotional growth again.
Sabina was pretending not to smile.
Burnt Pretzel was asleep on his back like nothing could possibly be his problem.
And I realized something simple.
We weren’t a story I was observing anymore.
We were something I was inside of.
Messy.
Loud.
Unfinished.
Real.
~*~
Burnt Pretzel farted again.
This time, Kiara laughed first.
And I followed.
Because of course I did.
~*~
And that was Soft Chaos Society.
Not a system.
Not a plan.
Not even really a group.
Just women trying to stay visible to each other while life kept moving. Maybe that is something I will submit next to the god dang French magazine.
What a fun, good bunch of friends. This was thoughtful and funny and deep all at once.