Guinevere
“Stevie?” I said when I opened my door.
“Hi,” she replied. She stood there in jeans and a t-shirt, her red hair pulled back and her eyes red and puffy.
I wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, but I walked out and hugged her tightly. She cried on my shoulder. There were about a thousand things going through my mind and all I could think was to get her to calm down.
“I have wine and chocolate, which I would rather not eat alone.” I took her hand, pulling her into my apartment. Taigi came up to her while I went for the glasses.
“Hey boy, how are you?” She sniffled and laughed, rubbing her hands through his fur. He barked in her face and stood on his hind legs for her, while she took his paw as if dancing with him.
After pouring a glass for each of us, I handed one to her. “You have to taste this, my do-not-covet thy neighbor’s father made it and it is to die for—”
I paused, holding my glass as she drank the whole thing without once stopping for air, like a woman dying of thirst. Using her hand, she wiped her lips and held it up for more.
“It’s really good.” She smiled.
“Could you even taste it?” I questioned, handing her my glass.
She didn’t drink, just stared at it. “I’m making a mistake, right Gwen? Marrying Nathaniel…I’m making a mistake.”
“Stevie, what happened?” I asked instead of answering, because I didn’t know how to answer that question.
“We got in a fight,” she whispered, holding the glass to her lips. “More like his parents and I had a fight and he just stood there while they kept going on about how they expected him to marry someone better. I wondered, is this going to be my whole life? I’m going to have to stand there and take their shit because my dad is just an electrical repairman and my mother is a baker?”
“Just an electrical repairman?” I wanted her to rethink that statement. “Remember when we were thirteen and I was staying at your house when Winter Storm Michael came in? Eight and a half feet of snow and ice, it knocked out the power, and it was so cold we shared three blankets. Your mother let us eat all the cupcakes and cookies she’d baked for school the next day while your father put on his snow boots, at least three scarves, two hats, and a ski mask.”
She covered her mouth and laughed. “He looked like big marshmallow.”
“He did, and he told us to give him a hug before he went out and worked for hours in the snow to get the power back on before nightfall because he was worried people would freeze since there hadn’t been any time to prepare. When he came back, we could pull ice off his eyebrows. Your dad isn’t just an electrical repairman, Stevie. He’s the man that keeps the fire going no matter what.”
She dropped her head, putting her glass on the table. “I know. I know. It’s just they make me feel like I’m not good enough all the time.”
“Then prove them wrong. You know what my dad says. Chin up…”
“Head high!” she said loudly, puffing out her chest before we both broke out into a fit of laughter. “Our dads are something else aren’t they?”
“Yeah they are, and they would not approve of us standing here drinking wine over men, which is why we are going out!” I said, going to my living room to grab my bag and camera.
“Going out where?”
“There is this block party happening downtown. I was going to go later to see the fireworks but you and I could both use some cotton candy and laughter.” I hooked my arm around hers and grabbed Taigi’s leash, dragging us out of my apartment.
She held on to me tightly, and when we got on the elevator she put her head on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what? I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“For not telling me to leave him. I know you aren’t fond of Nathaniel, so thank you for not using this as an opportunity to say so,” she muttered softly, watching the numbers decrease as we went down.
I wasn’t sure if I liked her thanking me for that. I wanted to say the same thing I’d said to her when I first met him: Nathaniel was a spoiled mama’s boy. He should have stood up for her and her family. The fact that he hadn’t pissed me off. Our families were one of the things that defined us. But if I had told her all that, I could just see our past fight playing out again and us ending up going separate ways. She was marrying him. She was making that choice, and I knew I’d rather be on her side when she needed my help than not speak to her.
Sometimes the best thing you could do for a person was just be there, no matter the circumstances.