Feeling Fine
Karen was going to kill someone if that phone did not stop ringing.
Glancing over at the clock radio, she groaned when the time 5:17 flashed at her in neon red. The phone rang again and she considered yanking the power cord straight out of the wall. Deciding against it, she reached over and picked it up, managing a groggy, “H’lo?”
“Hey, Karen.”
She blinked twice, blearily, before placing the voice. What was her father thinking, calling her at this time in the morning?
“Dad? What-” Her response was cut off by a yawn.
“Something’s happened. Your grandmother died a few minutes ago. I know it’s early for both of us, but I figured it’d be better if I just got the phone calls over right away.”
“It’s all right, Dad. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’ve known she was going for a while now.” There was a pause, and then he continued with, “Are you okay? I’m sorry for calling so early, and I’ve got to call your aunt now-”
An odd sensation of calm settled over her at the news of the death, her voice becoming flat and unemotional. Her father had a similar air of business between his explanations.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I understand. Go call her now, she needs to know.”
Their goodbyes were subdued after he told her to be ready for a funeral within the week, and Karen hung up the phone gently, a great deal more awake now. The “off-switch” that had just been flipped on her emotions was confusing her, and would probably be gnawing at her all day now.
This was the beginning of a bad day.
She tossed around restlessly around in bed for a few minutes before slipping out of the covers and into the shower - hell if she was going to fall back asleep after that news. The water chose to freeze her once before settling on a lukewarm, low pressure trickle that gradually warmed up. Exiting the shower proved to be more difficult as she slid and fell on the slick floor, causing a crash she was sure woke up her housemate.
To top it off, she tripped over her sneakers, stubbed her big toe, nearly threw her date’s number out with the trash, and burned her fingers making breakfast during the next three hours.
To repeat, it was going to be a bad day.
David stretched and scratched his rumpled hair on waking up. According to the clock, it was eight ante meridiem, but the utter feeling of pleasantness he felt told him that it had to be much later. The bed creaked as he rolled out heavily, his back stiff from sleeping in the same position all night. Despite his sore back, he felt rested, and he smiled absently while waiting for his brain to wake up.
The smell of bacon came wafting through the house to his nose, and David smiled again, now more awake. Karen was making breakfast, perhaps just because it was Saturday. Throwing on a wrinkled shirt, he stumbled out to the dining room. A soft curse from the direction of the stove greeted him as his housemate yanked her hand away from a frying pan and ran it under cold water.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Karen glared at him quickly for that and set the still-steaming bacon and eggs on the table, pulling out two forks and knives.
“When are mornings ever good?”
“Well, today. It’s a Saturday and I can hang around the house all day with nothing to do.” David lingered with eating his breakfast, prepared to savor every bite. Karen went twice his pace and seemed distracted, her eyes sliding over in the direction of the wall clack every few minutes.
“That’s just for people like you who don’t work on Saturdays. I’ve got a date tonight, so I want to get in as much as possible.”
He shrugged and leaned back in his chair luxuriously, stretching again like some enormous cat. “Whatever you want, Ren. I’m going out too, around six.
She finished her food and stood up, placing her dishes in the sink. “Mine’s at seven. Can you pick up any phone calls we get? I don’t feel like being interrupted today unless it’s a call in my room.” Picking up a sheath of papers from the countertop, she left the room. David wondered why she had been so short with him for a moment until again digging into his breakfast. He had a date with a blonde tonight and nothing to do until then -
This was going to be a good day.
Now Karen was scrambling around her room, trying to find the pencil that had disappeared when she came back from the bathroom. Not just any pencil - the pencil. It had been a companion for years, always the first writing utensil to touch the many manuscripts she had edited. For Karen was an editor, equipped with a volatile personality reminiscent of a genius poet.
The next bedroom over, David became worried when he heard objects falling and clunking loudly on a nearby carpeted floor. He switched off the morning news and knocked on Karen’s door, wanting to know the reason for the constant noises that had been going on for fifteen minutes.
“Karen? What’s going on in there?” He called, leaning his ear towards the solid wood.
He nearly fell forward when she yanked it open, wincing at the undiluted irritation in her voice when she said, “What do you think is going on?”
David shrugged. “Don’t know, that’s why I asked.”
Karen glared at him. “I’m looking for my mechanical pencil.” Her gaze shifted past him and focused on the small table next to the living room couch. Striding past, she plucked the sought-after object off the polished surface. She could only imagine it had ended up there on her way to the bathroom. Triumphantly holding it up, she continued, “And as usual, it’s out in the open in a place I didn’t think to look.”
He stepped out of the way this time as she brushed past him again, slamming the door with considerable force behind her. No more sound came from the room except for that of a desk chair being pulled aside.
David sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. He had known Karen longer than any of their group of four friends, but still lacked the ability to understand her as well as the girls did. That may have been the reason the two of them chose to live together; it gave them the emotional space they needed when living in a relatively small area, which could be difficult with Karen as her personality had the tendency to bubble and overflow in a room until any others present would feel suffocated. If she had moved in with one of the girls, they would have been fighting within a month. He would sometimes ponder his lifelong companions together, wondering how they had managed to change so much without him noticing until they were adults.
He walked back into his room and flipped the TV on. No matter what degree of success he might have one day in picking her brain, he would never understand how she could get so worked up over looking for a pencil.
This was most definitely the worst date that she had ever been on. She had even put away her work early to dress appealingly, fix her hair, and complete all of the typical female pre-date rituals. Now, Karen was stuck in some sports bar and bored beyond the usual limit of the human mind.
The walls of the bar were a deep maple color, most likely thin coverings layered with an over-shiny gloss of wood stain to give the place the homey feeling that wooden walls send off. People sat crowded around the round tables drinking beer or chatting, the voices occasionally melding into a loud cheer as whatever sports game on the screen in front of them had made a score.
At the main bar the patrons were less enthusiastic, only having picked this bar to get drunk in a friendly environment. Near the end of this row Karen was sitting alone, and giving off an aura that declared she wanted it no other way.
She idly stirred her water glass with a straw, watching the ice go in circles until they lost their momentum. The date wasn’t going as well as she had hoped - in fact, everything had slowly gone downhill since she was picked up at eight. Danny had seemed fine when they met at the laundromat (she had been thinking ‘Danny boy’, like the song), but he had dissolved into an offensive idiot at the sports bar. In front of his friends, and with the overwhelming assistance of alcohol, he just wanted to show off the girl he had picked up.
He was at another table at the moment, while she had retreated to the bar. Glancing at a clock on the wall - it was only eight - Karen decided this night was going nowhere. It was difficult to imagine that she had been looking forward to a good night only hours earlier. Sighing, putting down payment for her drink, she moved to walk out the door while Danny’s attention was elsewhere. He had made one drunken advance on her tonight, and she was not eager to repeat the experience.
About to make it out, she was halted by several other patrons getting up from their seats, leisurely chatting and putting on their coats. Sighing with frustration, she tried to hide a grimace as she saw Danny coming towards her.
“Hey, sweetcakes. Going somewhere?”
Her eyebrow twitched once, too briefly for her intoxicated date to notice. There were some things that Karen refused to tolerate in a man; amazingly, she had managed to pick up a guy who represented them all and more. The fact that he had just called her “sweetcakes” was also having trouble processing through her tired brain. Danny tried to reach around her head, smiling cockily when she grabbed his wrist. “What’s the matter? C’mon, you should take your hair down. You’d look nice.”
“No, thank you.” Karen’s voice was crisp and cold. He stopped smiling for a moment, then yanked his wrist out of her grasp. “Geez, you’re in a bad mood. Weren’t you having a good time? What a cold fish.”
Anger was the sensation of white-hot needles pricking her spine. Struggling to stay in control of her tongue, she at last spoke. “Yes,” she said acidly. “I’m surrounded by cigarettes, beer, and a football game on every screen I see. I’m having an absolutely wonderful time.”
With that she spun on her heel and strode out the door, comforted by the sound of pattering rain on the sidewalk. Danny did not bother to yell after her.
He hated seeing people bothering his friends. David almost did not believe what he saw, climbing down the stairs on the way to the men’s bathroom in the sports bar, but there was Karen, just on her way out the door before a guy he could only assume was her date stood up and said something that he could see pissed her of from across the room. She said something scathing in return and marched out the door, either uncaring of or not noticing the downpour. The man started to follow her out before David crossed the room and grabbed his arm. Startled, Karen’s former date turned around faced him, his eyes glazed. “Who the hell are you?”
David smiled unpleasantly and used his height to its fullest advantage, leaning over him to appear as tall as possible. “I’m a friend of the girl you were just talking to, and she didn’t look happy. I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from her.” Letting go of the arm, he cracked his knuckles threateningly. Danny glared at him for a moment before sullenly backing down and retreating to his table of friends, who were too drunk to notice the confrontation.
“Yeah, whatever. She was boring anyway.”
David let the comment slide, not wanting any unnecessary fighting. He glanced out the door in Karen’s direction before going on with his own business, knowing she would not want to talk to him at the moment. Hopefully, she would be cooled off by the time she got home.
She walked in a vague direction without an umbrella or quickening her pace to keep her head dry. Reaching a small apartment complex twenty minutes later, she pressed one of the small buzzers. A moment later, a voice came out of the nearby speaker.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, French.” Karen had no need to say anything else.
“Karen? I thought you had a date. You usually end up staying over at the guy’s house. It’s really early for you...”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I’m buzzing you in.”
“Thanks.” Not for the first time in her life, she thanked the unspoken understanding she had with her best friend.
The apartment itself was small, clean and warm. Karen furiously scrubbed her hair with a bath towel, wondering just how this day had managed to suck so badly. She told French about the worst part of the day in between changing into a spare set of clothes and drying off.
“I didn’t even know pricks like that still existed! Shouldn’t the chauvinistic gene have been beaten out at least a generation ago? He had the freaking nerve to call me a cold fish because I refused to be a shallow bimbo and pretend to enjoy myself in that crappy sports bar. I can’t believe I even considered staying with him all night.”
“So you’re definitely not going to see him again?” French made herself busy making hot chocolate in the kitchen, feeling that comfort food was called for tonight.
“Hell no! And I hope he doesn’t get so much as a phone number from anyone else until next year!”
The girl in the kitchen smiled to herself at her friend’s ranting, waiting to see if there would be any more of the tirade for tonight. Nothing more came forth from the direction of the bathroom except Karen herself, looking refreshed and feeling considerably better. Clean clothes had taken the lingering smell of cigarette smoke off of her, and her hair was brushed and dry. She inhaled the wafting scent of the hot chocolate before taking a cup for herself and sitting down, pleased that the day was a bit better.
“Thanks, French. I needed this a lot.”
“You know it’s no problem. I’d be happy so see you more, actually.”
“Sorry.” Karen grinned guiltily. “I don’t have any new excuses, just that work keeps me busy.”
“It’s not so much the work as you keeping yourself busy. You probably were up and editing even this morning, weren’t you? You need to relax more on Saturdays!”
“I know, I know.” French watched her friend lean back and listen to the tapping of rain on the windows. There were times when she was jealous of Karen’s work, which was always attended with a workaholic’s devotion, and it would unwittingly steal her away from her friends for days on end as she locked herself in her room and nitpicked over tiny details in manuscripts.
“Do you want to stay here tonight?”
“Hm?” Karen broke out of her light reverie. “What?”
“Do you feel like staying here tonight? I’m not doing anything that would require kicking you out early tomorrow.”
Karen considered it for a moment before shaking her head, and French hid her moment of disappointment. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ house tomorrow. Family stuff, you know?”
“Okay. It’s too bad, though. Do you need a ride home?” She might at least be able to have a short trip in the car with the for once non-absent editor.
“French, I love you - that’d be great. You won’t make me walk back in the rain?”
French fought a blush, rolled her eyes and put both of their empty cups in the sink before finding her car keys. “Of course not, stupid. Let’s go.”
The car ride was largely silent, the two friends simply enjoying each other’s company until it was over. French stopped Karen for a moment before driving away. “Hey, Karen?”
“Eh?”
“Can you...” She may have blushed again, but the nighttime darkness hid most colors. “Can you make yourself more available to us? We miss you.”
Karen paused for a second in surprise before nodding eagerly. “No problem.”
The car pulled away, and Karen was left with a slight sense of confusion, which she brushed away as she walked into the house.
David allowed himself to pump his fist in victory and mouth a silent “Yes!” as he watched Kelly walk up to her apartment complex, slightly swinging her hips. For once a date of his had gone well, and he felt as if he could take on the world. She had accepted his small bits of chivalry, and even laughed at his jokes. Grinning, he drove home; he never could have imagined he would be able to date a cute blonde like that.
Maybe he was finally getting lucky.
David frowned as he pulled up to his own home; he could tell from the look of the house that something was wrong. Quietly locking the car, he found that the front door was open. Trying to ignore a tight sensation in his stomach, he walked up the steps.
In the entire house, only the kitchen light was on. Karen’s Vespa was in the garage when he checked, yet she was absent from her room. It wasn’t until he made it to the back of the house that he saw the figure on the balcony, lit by the weak yellow light above the door.
The realization that she had not been acting normal all day struck him full force then, and David felt like an idiot for ignoring it that morning, even though Karen had ignored his questions, which was rare. Except for the few times she decided to close down, Karen was an incredibly open person. When her moods switched, however, it was nearly impossible to get any information out of her, so he had figured she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. Despite having known her for so long, they did not know each other very well. There was a certain guardedness between the two of them that he was determined to eventually break through.
“Hi.”
Her voice made him jump. Obviously, Karen had heard him tramping around the house a minute ago, with the porch door wide open.
“Hey,” he replied cautiously. “What happened? Why’s it so dark in there?”
“Because the lights are off.” The tint of humor in her voice passed as she continued. “I got a phone call early this morning.”
“Did something happen?”
“My grandmother died, after all these years.”
“She was coming on one hundred, right?” David took a few cautious steps until he was besides her, leaning on the balcony railing. Karen did not seem to notice as she watched the empty street below, holding a glass of water in an absentminded way.
“Yeah. At least her mind didn’t go first, and she lived for a long time. But,” she took a swig of the water as if it were beer, “I still found myself doing what everyone else does and contemplating life and death and all that crap. I think I got most of my brooding done at the bar, but I need to rant one last time at somebody. So sit down.”
David pulled up one of the porch chairs for himself and waited for her to continue, wanting his normal, cheerful housemate back.
“I’m sorry for-”
“Why do people always say that? It wasn’t your fault she died.”
“It means ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ It’s difficult to say much else when a person’s lost a family member.”
“Whatever.” She took another swig from the glass, not bothering to face him. “Thank you.”
An amiable silence followed this exchange. Karen sipped her cup several more times before starting. “Okay,” she said. “This is what I’ve figured out. I felt guilty when I found out my grandmother died. I haven’t seen her since Christmas six months ago, hadn’t called her or anything. I’ve been growing away from her for ages, and now that she’s gone all I can feel about it is guilt because I can’t really be sad about it. I feel guilty about not feeling guilty, sort of. Is that stupid?”
David was silent for a few moments to make sure she was finished, then at last took a steadying breath to begin his reply.
“A lot of people would think it’s strange, I guess, but it doesn’t matter because they haven’t lived your life. You’re the only one who really understands the way that you think, but Sara and French and I have been around to see the results of your way of thinking, and you’re a good person. Some people don’t ever even get to meet their grandparents, so at least you got to know her and mourn her even a little. It’s okay. It’s difficult for anyone to mourn someone that they didn’t know well, right?”
Karen finally turned to look at him in the eyes, smiling warmly as she stood up straight and unbent her back. “Thank you. This time, really. Thank you.”
He grinned goofily and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “If you feel better now, wanna eat?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
In the doorway to the kitchen, it hit; a sensation of her stomach rolling, and black spots crowded her vision until she was blind. Karen was stood there in limbo with fainting for a moment before David noticed.
“Hey, whoa, Karen. Sit down.”
He caught her shoulder and guided her to sit in one of the dining room chairs, grabbing the glass of water as she put her head down and blinked furiously until the spots were gone. Seeing clearly again, she accepted the glass of water and sipped it, not meeting her friend’s eyes. Karen drained the glass and smiled faintly, feeling somewhat better. David was scrutinizing her suspiciously, and she finally looked up at him. “So are you going to yell at me?”
He didn’t smile as she’d hoped he would, and maybe leave her alone about this. Instead he sat down on the other side of the table and continued staring at her with concerned eyes. “When was the last time you ate anything?” It was an expression of his worry, but it wasn’t needed. “Don’t look at me that way, big guy,” she said. “I’m doing fine. I just don’t really want to eat anything from this house, you know?”
He visibly seemed to relax, and his eyebrow rose, giving her a surprised look. “Have you checked the refrigerator lately?”
Karen shook her head.
David grinned. “Check it out, there’s some really good stuff in there. French made dinner last night, and it turned out really well. I think there might be some pork chops left over, if you want them. They just need to be warmed up.” He stood, not assured about her well-being. “I’m not gonna do that for you, so get up now. It’s on the bottom shelf.” Walking out of the kitchen, he turned once more to look back at her. “Don’t scare me like that, okay?”
Waving him off, Karen smiled despite herself. “Sure, fine. Stop worrying about me!” She shooed him out of the room.
Feeling better now that her conscience was cleared and there was good food, she found the tin foil package in the refrigerator. Unwrapping it, she paused. There was something strange about the gravy surrounding the pork; it wasn’t moving. Poking the mass with a fork, her suspicions were confirmed: the gravy had transformed since being placed here the previous night.
“David,” she called back into the living room, “is it supposed to be semi-solid?”
His head peeked around the corner again. “It kind of melts when you heat it up. That stuff is weird.”
“Ew.” Karen wrinkled her nose. “That really is gross.” She popped it into the microwave anyway.
The gravy did melt, and she sat down next to David on the couch, making herself comfortable by slinging her feet around his ankles. “It is good. French can really cook.”
“Yeah, they’ve gotten better with practice. But we still al have trouble taking the time to clean out the refrigerator.”
She shifted guiltily. “I should have done it myself. I’m home for a lot of the time, so it’s up to me to keep it clean.”
He patted her on the back, making the gravy splash precariously close to the edge of the plate. “It’s okay. You’ve been working more on writing lately, haven’t you?”
Karen mock-glared at him. “I’m always working more on writing. But I’ve hit on some good stuff lately; one of my people might be getting her first big book deal soon, and I’m editing everything she sends me. It takes a while.”
“Can I take a peek?”
“No!” She shook her head adamantly. “Not yet. I’ll buy you a copy when it comes out.”
The conversation subsided, and they watched TV aimlessly for a half hour. A pleasant dullness spread to Karen’s senses, and she glanced at David to see of her was tired too. His eyelids were drooping, his posture relaxed. If he leaned a little to the left he would have a comfortable place to sleep for the night. Stifling a yawn, she gently extracted her legs from his, saying, “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, mumbling an, “Mmkay.” A small smile flitted across his face when she covered him with a blanket.
Pausing at her bedroom door, Karen turned one last time and looked at him fondly. Many people said that when a person slept, their face relaxed and they looked younger. For David, it was the opposite; faint lines appeared in his forehead and he dreamed, belying his carefree attitude and showing that he had more serious thoughts than he seemed to.
“Good night,” she whispered one last time. He would probably never know that she found him nearly as confusing as he found her.
***
I'm experimenting with spacing. Is this better, or the way in the first post?
Glancing over at the clock radio, she groaned when the time 5:17 flashed at her in neon red. The phone rang again and she considered yanking the power cord straight out of the wall. Deciding against it, she reached over and picked it up, managing a groggy, “H’lo?”
“Hey, Karen.”
She blinked twice, blearily, before placing the voice. What was her father thinking, calling her at this time in the morning?
“Dad? What-” Her response was cut off by a yawn.
“Something’s happened. Your grandmother died a few minutes ago. I know it’s early for both of us, but I figured it’d be better if I just got the phone calls over right away.”
“It’s all right, Dad. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’ve known she was going for a while now.” There was a pause, and then he continued with, “Are you okay? I’m sorry for calling so early, and I’ve got to call your aunt now-”
An odd sensation of calm settled over her at the news of the death, her voice becoming flat and unemotional. Her father had a similar air of business between his explanations.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I understand. Go call her now, she needs to know.”
Their goodbyes were subdued after he told her to be ready for a funeral within the week, and Karen hung up the phone gently, a great deal more awake now. The “off-switch” that had just been flipped on her emotions was confusing her, and would probably be gnawing at her all day now.
This was the beginning of a bad day.
She tossed around restlessly around in bed for a few minutes before slipping out of the covers and into the shower - hell if she was going to fall back asleep after that news. The water chose to freeze her once before settling on a lukewarm, low pressure trickle that gradually warmed up. Exiting the shower proved to be more difficult as she slid and fell on the slick floor, causing a crash she was sure woke up her housemate.
To top it off, she tripped over her sneakers, stubbed her big toe, nearly threw her date’s number out with the trash, and burned her fingers making breakfast during the next three hours.
To repeat, it was going to be a bad day.
David stretched and scratched his rumpled hair on waking up. According to the clock, it was eight ante meridiem, but the utter feeling of pleasantness he felt told him that it had to be much later. The bed creaked as he rolled out heavily, his back stiff from sleeping in the same position all night. Despite his sore back, he felt rested, and he smiled absently while waiting for his brain to wake up.
The smell of bacon came wafting through the house to his nose, and David smiled again, now more awake. Karen was making breakfast, perhaps just because it was Saturday. Throwing on a wrinkled shirt, he stumbled out to the dining room. A soft curse from the direction of the stove greeted him as his housemate yanked her hand away from a frying pan and ran it under cold water.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Karen glared at him quickly for that and set the still-steaming bacon and eggs on the table, pulling out two forks and knives.
“When are mornings ever good?”
“Well, today. It’s a Saturday and I can hang around the house all day with nothing to do.” David lingered with eating his breakfast, prepared to savor every bite. Karen went twice his pace and seemed distracted, her eyes sliding over in the direction of the wall clack every few minutes.
“That’s just for people like you who don’t work on Saturdays. I’ve got a date tonight, so I want to get in as much as possible.”
He shrugged and leaned back in his chair luxuriously, stretching again like some enormous cat. “Whatever you want, Ren. I’m going out too, around six.
She finished her food and stood up, placing her dishes in the sink. “Mine’s at seven. Can you pick up any phone calls we get? I don’t feel like being interrupted today unless it’s a call in my room.” Picking up a sheath of papers from the countertop, she left the room. David wondered why she had been so short with him for a moment until again digging into his breakfast. He had a date with a blonde tonight and nothing to do until then -
This was going to be a good day.
Now Karen was scrambling around her room, trying to find the pencil that had disappeared when she came back from the bathroom. Not just any pencil - the pencil. It had been a companion for years, always the first writing utensil to touch the many manuscripts she had edited. For Karen was an editor, equipped with a volatile personality reminiscent of a genius poet.
The next bedroom over, David became worried when he heard objects falling and clunking loudly on a nearby carpeted floor. He switched off the morning news and knocked on Karen’s door, wanting to know the reason for the constant noises that had been going on for fifteen minutes.
“Karen? What’s going on in there?” He called, leaning his ear towards the solid wood.
He nearly fell forward when she yanked it open, wincing at the undiluted irritation in her voice when she said, “What do you think is going on?”
David shrugged. “Don’t know, that’s why I asked.”
Karen glared at him. “I’m looking for my mechanical pencil.” Her gaze shifted past him and focused on the small table next to the living room couch. Striding past, she plucked the sought-after object off the polished surface. She could only imagine it had ended up there on her way to the bathroom. Triumphantly holding it up, she continued, “And as usual, it’s out in the open in a place I didn’t think to look.”
He stepped out of the way this time as she brushed past him again, slamming the door with considerable force behind her. No more sound came from the room except for that of a desk chair being pulled aside.
David sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. He had known Karen longer than any of their group of four friends, but still lacked the ability to understand her as well as the girls did. That may have been the reason the two of them chose to live together; it gave them the emotional space they needed when living in a relatively small area, which could be difficult with Karen as her personality had the tendency to bubble and overflow in a room until any others present would feel suffocated. If she had moved in with one of the girls, they would have been fighting within a month. He would sometimes ponder his lifelong companions together, wondering how they had managed to change so much without him noticing until they were adults.
He walked back into his room and flipped the TV on. No matter what degree of success he might have one day in picking her brain, he would never understand how she could get so worked up over looking for a pencil.
This was most definitely the worst date that she had ever been on. She had even put away her work early to dress appealingly, fix her hair, and complete all of the typical female pre-date rituals. Now, Karen was stuck in some sports bar and bored beyond the usual limit of the human mind.
The walls of the bar were a deep maple color, most likely thin coverings layered with an over-shiny gloss of wood stain to give the place the homey feeling that wooden walls send off. People sat crowded around the round tables drinking beer or chatting, the voices occasionally melding into a loud cheer as whatever sports game on the screen in front of them had made a score.
At the main bar the patrons were less enthusiastic, only having picked this bar to get drunk in a friendly environment. Near the end of this row Karen was sitting alone, and giving off an aura that declared she wanted it no other way.
She idly stirred her water glass with a straw, watching the ice go in circles until they lost their momentum. The date wasn’t going as well as she had hoped - in fact, everything had slowly gone downhill since she was picked up at eight. Danny had seemed fine when they met at the laundromat (she had been thinking ‘Danny boy’, like the song), but he had dissolved into an offensive idiot at the sports bar. In front of his friends, and with the overwhelming assistance of alcohol, he just wanted to show off the girl he had picked up.
He was at another table at the moment, while she had retreated to the bar. Glancing at a clock on the wall - it was only eight - Karen decided this night was going nowhere. It was difficult to imagine that she had been looking forward to a good night only hours earlier. Sighing, putting down payment for her drink, she moved to walk out the door while Danny’s attention was elsewhere. He had made one drunken advance on her tonight, and she was not eager to repeat the experience.
About to make it out, she was halted by several other patrons getting up from their seats, leisurely chatting and putting on their coats. Sighing with frustration, she tried to hide a grimace as she saw Danny coming towards her.
“Hey, sweetcakes. Going somewhere?”
Her eyebrow twitched once, too briefly for her intoxicated date to notice. There were some things that Karen refused to tolerate in a man; amazingly, she had managed to pick up a guy who represented them all and more. The fact that he had just called her “sweetcakes” was also having trouble processing through her tired brain. Danny tried to reach around her head, smiling cockily when she grabbed his wrist. “What’s the matter? C’mon, you should take your hair down. You’d look nice.”
“No, thank you.” Karen’s voice was crisp and cold. He stopped smiling for a moment, then yanked his wrist out of her grasp. “Geez, you’re in a bad mood. Weren’t you having a good time? What a cold fish.”
Anger was the sensation of white-hot needles pricking her spine. Struggling to stay in control of her tongue, she at last spoke. “Yes,” she said acidly. “I’m surrounded by cigarettes, beer, and a football game on every screen I see. I’m having an absolutely wonderful time.”
With that she spun on her heel and strode out the door, comforted by the sound of pattering rain on the sidewalk. Danny did not bother to yell after her.
He hated seeing people bothering his friends. David almost did not believe what he saw, climbing down the stairs on the way to the men’s bathroom in the sports bar, but there was Karen, just on her way out the door before a guy he could only assume was her date stood up and said something that he could see pissed her of from across the room. She said something scathing in return and marched out the door, either uncaring of or not noticing the downpour. The man started to follow her out before David crossed the room and grabbed his arm. Startled, Karen’s former date turned around faced him, his eyes glazed. “Who the hell are you?”
David smiled unpleasantly and used his height to its fullest advantage, leaning over him to appear as tall as possible. “I’m a friend of the girl you were just talking to, and she didn’t look happy. I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from her.” Letting go of the arm, he cracked his knuckles threateningly. Danny glared at him for a moment before sullenly backing down and retreating to his table of friends, who were too drunk to notice the confrontation.
“Yeah, whatever. She was boring anyway.”
David let the comment slide, not wanting any unnecessary fighting. He glanced out the door in Karen’s direction before going on with his own business, knowing she would not want to talk to him at the moment. Hopefully, she would be cooled off by the time she got home.
She walked in a vague direction without an umbrella or quickening her pace to keep her head dry. Reaching a small apartment complex twenty minutes later, she pressed one of the small buzzers. A moment later, a voice came out of the nearby speaker.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, French.” Karen had no need to say anything else.
“Karen? I thought you had a date. You usually end up staying over at the guy’s house. It’s really early for you...”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I’m buzzing you in.”
“Thanks.” Not for the first time in her life, she thanked the unspoken understanding she had with her best friend.
The apartment itself was small, clean and warm. Karen furiously scrubbed her hair with a bath towel, wondering just how this day had managed to suck so badly. She told French about the worst part of the day in between changing into a spare set of clothes and drying off.
“I didn’t even know pricks like that still existed! Shouldn’t the chauvinistic gene have been beaten out at least a generation ago? He had the freaking nerve to call me a cold fish because I refused to be a shallow bimbo and pretend to enjoy myself in that crappy sports bar. I can’t believe I even considered staying with him all night.”
“So you’re definitely not going to see him again?” French made herself busy making hot chocolate in the kitchen, feeling that comfort food was called for tonight.
“Hell no! And I hope he doesn’t get so much as a phone number from anyone else until next year!”
The girl in the kitchen smiled to herself at her friend’s ranting, waiting to see if there would be any more of the tirade for tonight. Nothing more came forth from the direction of the bathroom except Karen herself, looking refreshed and feeling considerably better. Clean clothes had taken the lingering smell of cigarette smoke off of her, and her hair was brushed and dry. She inhaled the wafting scent of the hot chocolate before taking a cup for herself and sitting down, pleased that the day was a bit better.
“Thanks, French. I needed this a lot.”
“You know it’s no problem. I’d be happy so see you more, actually.”
“Sorry.” Karen grinned guiltily. “I don’t have any new excuses, just that work keeps me busy.”
“It’s not so much the work as you keeping yourself busy. You probably were up and editing even this morning, weren’t you? You need to relax more on Saturdays!”
“I know, I know.” French watched her friend lean back and listen to the tapping of rain on the windows. There were times when she was jealous of Karen’s work, which was always attended with a workaholic’s devotion, and it would unwittingly steal her away from her friends for days on end as she locked herself in her room and nitpicked over tiny details in manuscripts.
“Do you want to stay here tonight?”
“Hm?” Karen broke out of her light reverie. “What?”
“Do you feel like staying here tonight? I’m not doing anything that would require kicking you out early tomorrow.”
Karen considered it for a moment before shaking her head, and French hid her moment of disappointment. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ house tomorrow. Family stuff, you know?”
“Okay. It’s too bad, though. Do you need a ride home?” She might at least be able to have a short trip in the car with the for once non-absent editor.
“French, I love you - that’d be great. You won’t make me walk back in the rain?”
French fought a blush, rolled her eyes and put both of their empty cups in the sink before finding her car keys. “Of course not, stupid. Let’s go.”
The car ride was largely silent, the two friends simply enjoying each other’s company until it was over. French stopped Karen for a moment before driving away. “Hey, Karen?”
“Eh?”
“Can you...” She may have blushed again, but the nighttime darkness hid most colors. “Can you make yourself more available to us? We miss you.”
Karen paused for a second in surprise before nodding eagerly. “No problem.”
The car pulled away, and Karen was left with a slight sense of confusion, which she brushed away as she walked into the house.
David allowed himself to pump his fist in victory and mouth a silent “Yes!” as he watched Kelly walk up to her apartment complex, slightly swinging her hips. For once a date of his had gone well, and he felt as if he could take on the world. She had accepted his small bits of chivalry, and even laughed at his jokes. Grinning, he drove home; he never could have imagined he would be able to date a cute blonde like that.
Maybe he was finally getting lucky.
David frowned as he pulled up to his own home; he could tell from the look of the house that something was wrong. Quietly locking the car, he found that the front door was open. Trying to ignore a tight sensation in his stomach, he walked up the steps.
In the entire house, only the kitchen light was on. Karen’s Vespa was in the garage when he checked, yet she was absent from her room. It wasn’t until he made it to the back of the house that he saw the figure on the balcony, lit by the weak yellow light above the door.
The realization that she had not been acting normal all day struck him full force then, and David felt like an idiot for ignoring it that morning, even though Karen had ignored his questions, which was rare. Except for the few times she decided to close down, Karen was an incredibly open person. When her moods switched, however, it was nearly impossible to get any information out of her, so he had figured she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. Despite having known her for so long, they did not know each other very well. There was a certain guardedness between the two of them that he was determined to eventually break through.
“Hi.”
Her voice made him jump. Obviously, Karen had heard him tramping around the house a minute ago, with the porch door wide open.
“Hey,” he replied cautiously. “What happened? Why’s it so dark in there?”
“Because the lights are off.” The tint of humor in her voice passed as she continued. “I got a phone call early this morning.”
“Did something happen?”
“My grandmother died, after all these years.”
“She was coming on one hundred, right?” David took a few cautious steps until he was besides her, leaning on the balcony railing. Karen did not seem to notice as she watched the empty street below, holding a glass of water in an absentminded way.
“Yeah. At least her mind didn’t go first, and she lived for a long time. But,” she took a swig of the water as if it were beer, “I still found myself doing what everyone else does and contemplating life and death and all that crap. I think I got most of my brooding done at the bar, but I need to rant one last time at somebody. So sit down.”
David pulled up one of the porch chairs for himself and waited for her to continue, wanting his normal, cheerful housemate back.
“I’m sorry for-”
“Why do people always say that? It wasn’t your fault she died.”
“It means ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ It’s difficult to say much else when a person’s lost a family member.”
“Whatever.” She took another swig from the glass, not bothering to face him. “Thank you.”
An amiable silence followed this exchange. Karen sipped her cup several more times before starting. “Okay,” she said. “This is what I’ve figured out. I felt guilty when I found out my grandmother died. I haven’t seen her since Christmas six months ago, hadn’t called her or anything. I’ve been growing away from her for ages, and now that she’s gone all I can feel about it is guilt because I can’t really be sad about it. I feel guilty about not feeling guilty, sort of. Is that stupid?”
David was silent for a few moments to make sure she was finished, then at last took a steadying breath to begin his reply.
“A lot of people would think it’s strange, I guess, but it doesn’t matter because they haven’t lived your life. You’re the only one who really understands the way that you think, but Sara and French and I have been around to see the results of your way of thinking, and you’re a good person. Some people don’t ever even get to meet their grandparents, so at least you got to know her and mourn her even a little. It’s okay. It’s difficult for anyone to mourn someone that they didn’t know well, right?”
Karen finally turned to look at him in the eyes, smiling warmly as she stood up straight and unbent her back. “Thank you. This time, really. Thank you.”
He grinned goofily and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “If you feel better now, wanna eat?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
In the doorway to the kitchen, it hit; a sensation of her stomach rolling, and black spots crowded her vision until she was blind. Karen was stood there in limbo with fainting for a moment before David noticed.
“Hey, whoa, Karen. Sit down.”
He caught her shoulder and guided her to sit in one of the dining room chairs, grabbing the glass of water as she put her head down and blinked furiously until the spots were gone. Seeing clearly again, she accepted the glass of water and sipped it, not meeting her friend’s eyes. Karen drained the glass and smiled faintly, feeling somewhat better. David was scrutinizing her suspiciously, and she finally looked up at him. “So are you going to yell at me?”
He didn’t smile as she’d hoped he would, and maybe leave her alone about this. Instead he sat down on the other side of the table and continued staring at her with concerned eyes. “When was the last time you ate anything?” It was an expression of his worry, but it wasn’t needed. “Don’t look at me that way, big guy,” she said. “I’m doing fine. I just don’t really want to eat anything from this house, you know?”
He visibly seemed to relax, and his eyebrow rose, giving her a surprised look. “Have you checked the refrigerator lately?”
Karen shook her head.
David grinned. “Check it out, there’s some really good stuff in there. French made dinner last night, and it turned out really well. I think there might be some pork chops left over, if you want them. They just need to be warmed up.” He stood, not assured about her well-being. “I’m not gonna do that for you, so get up now. It’s on the bottom shelf.” Walking out of the kitchen, he turned once more to look back at her. “Don’t scare me like that, okay?”
Waving him off, Karen smiled despite herself. “Sure, fine. Stop worrying about me!” She shooed him out of the room.
Feeling better now that her conscience was cleared and there was good food, she found the tin foil package in the refrigerator. Unwrapping it, she paused. There was something strange about the gravy surrounding the pork; it wasn’t moving. Poking the mass with a fork, her suspicions were confirmed: the gravy had transformed since being placed here the previous night.
“David,” she called back into the living room, “is it supposed to be semi-solid?”
His head peeked around the corner again. “It kind of melts when you heat it up. That stuff is weird.”
“Ew.” Karen wrinkled her nose. “That really is gross.” She popped it into the microwave anyway.
The gravy did melt, and she sat down next to David on the couch, making herself comfortable by slinging her feet around his ankles. “It is good. French can really cook.”
“Yeah, they’ve gotten better with practice. But we still al have trouble taking the time to clean out the refrigerator.”
She shifted guiltily. “I should have done it myself. I’m home for a lot of the time, so it’s up to me to keep it clean.”
He patted her on the back, making the gravy splash precariously close to the edge of the plate. “It’s okay. You’ve been working more on writing lately, haven’t you?”
Karen mock-glared at him. “I’m always working more on writing. But I’ve hit on some good stuff lately; one of my people might be getting her first big book deal soon, and I’m editing everything she sends me. It takes a while.”
“Can I take a peek?”
“No!” She shook her head adamantly. “Not yet. I’ll buy you a copy when it comes out.”
The conversation subsided, and they watched TV aimlessly for a half hour. A pleasant dullness spread to Karen’s senses, and she glanced at David to see of her was tired too. His eyelids were drooping, his posture relaxed. If he leaned a little to the left he would have a comfortable place to sleep for the night. Stifling a yawn, she gently extracted her legs from his, saying, “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, mumbling an, “Mmkay.” A small smile flitted across his face when she covered him with a blanket.
Pausing at her bedroom door, Karen turned one last time and looked at him fondly. Many people said that when a person slept, their face relaxed and they looked younger. For David, it was the opposite; faint lines appeared in his forehead and he dreamed, belying his carefree attitude and showing that he had more serious thoughts than he seemed to.
“Good night,” she whispered one last time. He would probably never know that she found him nearly as confusing as he found her.
***
I'm experimenting with spacing. Is this better, or the way in the first post?