((The first portion was written on December 6th...here's the next part i've come up with.))
Shit. I was supposed to call Carla an hour ago. I looked at the night stand clock, 12:30 PM. I have no idea where time goes. I threw the comforter off the bed, digging through the sheets to find my cell phone.
"Yo," was her answer.
"Yo? Been indulging in some BET?" I retorted, pulling my dirty jeans on from the floor.
"That's my business. Starbucks?" She replied mysteriously.
"Sounds good, i'm rolling out of bed as we speak--are you put together?"
"Mmm.." I could tell she was checking herself out in the mirror, "Decent. I'll see you in a bit."
I decided it wasn't right to wear two dirty clothes items, so I rustled through my closet to find a clean t-shirt and baseball cap to cover up my bedhead. I had this obsession with baseball caps, so much so that Jason bought me a CAL hat that had my name embroidered on the back. His nickname for me was Dee. Unoriginal, but it was the first nickname I'd had since my brother called me ding dong back in pre-school. Anyways, it is my favorite hat. I grabbed the keys off the dresser, slid into flip flops, and shoved my wallet and phone into a purse that was much too big to serve any practical purpose.
Driving to Starbucks mid-afternoon is my favorite thing. I love people watching at the esplanade--you get a great mix of bored socialite housewives and everyone else who tries too hard. Being in the presence of such material perfection makes me aware of my own flaws. I've never been the type of girl who is put together well; something is always amiss. I look at other women and sigh to myself and think--how do you do it? Does it take as much as time as I imagine it does? Or is there some pampering secret they are holding out from the rest of us?
God bless my mother for trying so hard. She would practically have to pry my food-smeared uniform skirts from my hands in high school to be washed regularly. To me, it just never really mattered. I have been an athlete my entire life, thus beauty always came second to extra sleep. That saying about "dressing for the day" just makes me laugh--it just makes you that more peeved when something gets spilled on your expensive blouse or suede boots. Which always happens the moment you decide it's worth the risk on a random afternoon outing.
Carla was never hard to find, she always wore colors you wouldn't think existed outside some shroom' inspired rainbow. She pulled it off either way. Today was particularly festive, peacock blue with some kind of emerald green beading.
"My love!" I crooned, enveloping her in a hug.
My favorite part of Carla was how much personality she packed into her petite 5'1" frame. Her happiness bubbled over and onto anyone in her vicinity, contagious. "You look just lovely," she taunted.
"Oh please, like I care. I overslept this morning," I replied nonchalantly, opening the door into the familiar shop.
I love the smell of coffee, and the sound of newspapers crumpling. But the very best thing about Starbucks is that no matter what state or country you are in--they all feel like your local spot. She looked at me skeptically, pulling a ball of lint off my pocket,
"Oh fine, Jason's out of town. Give me a break."
She laughed easily, and loudly. That always bothered me but I never mentioned it--it was blasphemous to imagine Carla with anything but a loud laugh.
"So, since the ball and chain is on vaca--what are you doing this weekend? Specifically, tonight?"
"Mm..you caught me. I was going to.." I paused thinking of what my real options were. Walk Puddles, watch lifetime, or maybe if I was feeling really spontaneous I would read the new romance novel I had secretly purchased. "Actually, what did you have mind?"
Carla worked for Bebe and somehow knew everyone, which led to great perks at club openings, etc. Her life was pretty glamorous, sometimes I was envious and then other times I was perfectly content with my quiet, predictable existence. The one thing about Carla that both stumped and inspired me was her disinterest in serious relationships. She had ended things bitterly with her ex Kyle a couple years ago after dating throughout college. Nobody really understood it at the time, they seemed happy, but she explained it as an early-life crisis and decided any type of commitment was too much to ask for now. Her blackberry danced on the table, sending ripples through my black coffee, "Working on Saturday?" I inquired.
An annoyed sigh escaped her lips, "It's Keith."
"Oooh...Keith? Really? I thought you ended that." I trailed off, watching a woman outside force her miniature poodle into a hellacious louis vuitton bag, screeching and yapping. I scrunched up my nose, almost feeling sorry for the pink clad creature. I turned back to observe Carla.
"Well I did, er..I was going to. He is fun. We do have fun. But I just feel like he is so frou-frou. And really, a music producer? Sketch." Her eyebrows raised slightly reading over the text, "Speaking of fun, I was going to see if you wanted to go the Pussycat Lounge, but Keith's label is actually having a promotion at Dirty Pretty. Fun, right?" She purred.
I could just see it now. Carla and I dressed to the 9's, weaving our way through a bunch of over-tanned, platinum barbie look alikes, while men flaunting cheesy pick-up lines crowded around the perimeter of the dance floor, looking ravenous and ready to pounce. I bit my lower lip, on the other hand it would be nice to get out and let loose.
"Evan's going to be there. I think I forgot to mention that." Her eyes sparkled in mischief.
I almost choked on my coffee, "Evan? My Evan?"
"Yes, Evan whom you should make beautiful babies with." She joked, tossing her hair and eyeing me curiously. I rolled my eyes, "Beautiful babies are the last thing on my list, but thanks. I don't know, that could be interesting. Maybe too interesting," I paused, folding the splenda wrapper into squares, " I mean..ugh, he may not even want to see me." The truth hung in the air, and I immediately wanted to snatch the words back and shove them into my mouth.
"Not want to see you? You really are out of your damn mind. What do you expect? The guy is only going to give you so many opportunities before rolling over to the next girl."
Her words stung, I don't know if I could really tell you why. Evan was the one guy I just couldn't shake. There are relationships where you have the upper-hand, and relationships where you are just tongue tied the minute they walk into the room. We had a checkered past, nothing serious, but he popped into my mind from time to time. The guy I wanted but couldn't have.
"Do we have to talk about it? It was awhile ago, anyway. I'm sure in his mind it was nothing. What time would we need to be there?" I surrendered, seeing Evan peaked my interest. I wondered what he would say when he saw me? Does he think about me too? My pocket vibrated, bringing me back to reality--Jason was calling.
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