1.
Charley, Jordan, Nicky and Hal drank in the middle of an empty room – so empty that it couldn't be called a room at all. It was more like a space. It was due to be a kitchen sometime in the next seven weeks (give or take). Until then, the space, and therefore, Charley and Hal, were trapped in the purgatory of a home remodel.
The walls were stripped of paint and plaster, leaving pipes exposed. The floor was a row of raw wood planks. A water hose hung impotently from the wall where the refrigerator once stood. The wires dangled from the holes in the ceiling where lights were once hung. Erstwhile window panes tacked with glue left little doubt that something was missing.
The four of them congregated around a work table covered with rolls of electrical tape. Charley refilled Nicky's and Jordan's wine glasses, her own, then held onto the bottle, looking futilely for a place to sit it down.
"Counter?" Nicky asked, sipping from his glass.
"Yep," Charley said.
"Gone too?" Jordan asked.
"Yep," Charley said with a tipsy giggle.
"We had to," Hal said. "The whole thing was just outdated. And just... plain ugly." He wasn't drinking wine. Instead, he sloshed whisky and ice in a glass engraved with his initials.
"It was pretty pink," Charley said. "But not, like, pretty pink."
"It was like the color of a womb!" Hal announced.
Nicky and Jordan winced, while Charley just shook her head. "Oh dear." She ducked down to set the wine bottle on the floor.
"What?" Hal said, nudging Charley with his elbow. "C'mon. You know that shit is true," he said.
"So what's the final product going to look like?" Jordan asked.
"Um... I don't know," Charley said, taking a sip of wine. "Done?"
They all laughed.
"Dude, seriously," Hal said. "I'm already over it, and we've barely started." He spoke louder than the rest of the group, his voice bouncing off the empty walls. "It's a money pit, right? Right! Tell them!" he said to Charley.
"I mean," Charley said, "Maybe not a 'money pit.' I don't like to think of it in such negative terms."
"I bet," Nicky said. "Especially since it cost so much."
Charley put a finger on the tip of her nose, clinking glasses with Nicky.
"It's like, the most expensive meal you ever have is going to be delicious, no matter what," Hal said, spilling a bit of his drink on his hand. He looked up at Charley while he sucked the mess from his fingers. "No going back now, right, Babe?"
Charley pursed her lips and tapped her glass with her engagement ring.
2.
They headed out back. Jordan and Hal sat at a table on the porch, while Charley and Nicky explored the backyard. The house sat on a fairly large piece of land, with a yard, thick with growth, leading into wooded hills. Charley sometimes found deer wandering around in the early morning, drinking from the shallow pools left by the rain, sunlight crashing through the tree leaves. It was, by far, her favorite part of living in that house.
"I once found a trail that leads all the way through those woods," Charley said. "I don't know where it ends, though. I haven't gone that far yet. We should go for a hike in the morning, if you're game. See where it goes."
Nicky cut her a look. "Girl, please," he said. "You know Black men don't hike."
They both doubled over and laughed at this simple truth.
"So what's the deal with this girl, huh?" Charley asked. "She's cute."
"That she is..." Nicky said, waiting.
"Is she the one?"
Nicky shrugged. "You tell me."
"Why me?" Charley asked.
"C'mon," Nicky said. "You know I can't make that kind of move without your input. You're an important part of the process." He lowered his voice. "I need you."
"Is that right?" Charley said, looking at the ground.
"Yeah," he said. "That's right."
"Why?" Charley asked. "It's not like we ever see each other."
"And who's fault is that?" Nicky asked, titling Charley's head up by her chin. "Hmm?"
Charley and Nicky had known each other since college. They lived in the same dorm, knew many of the same people, and built a fast friendship on a steady diet of mischief and sarcasm. While they made cameo appearances in their classes, they spent most days getting stoned in each other's dorm room, indulging in some movie marathon or another – quizzing one another with trivia on this or that director, rating performances, quoting scenes as they played out before them on 20-inch screens propped atop their dressers.
To look at Charley now, she hadn't changed much since those days a decade ago. Her face was still youthful. Even more so when she smiled, looking like a kid caught watching TV past their bedtime. She dressed almost as casually now as she did back in college, though she had a little more money now, switching from sweatshirts to cardigans, her designer jeans clean and creased. She still had her long, thick curls, though she wore them tied up in a bun atop her head. And of course, she'd kept her lip ring - a small, silver O running through the center of her bottom lip. She still sheepishly toyed with it whenever she didn't know quite what to say.
As close as they were, they'd spent much of their 20s chatting only sporadically and seeing each other rarely, convincing themselves that popping up in each other's Facebook newsfeeds counted as "keeping in touch." Indeed, this was the first time they'd seen each other in years.
"We both gotta do better," she said.
Nicky conceded with a nod. "To doing better," he said, raising his glass.
"To doing better," Charley said, clinking her glass with his.
"Speaking of doing better," Nicky said, "you've done well for yourself."
"Have I?" Charley asked through an unsure smile.
"I mean, you know," Nicky said. "You got the full package, right? The job..."
"Killing me, one 60-hour week at a time..."
