by Julia Wolf
“Yes! I’m starving!” I said.
“Should we order everything?” Rachel asked.
“Except the olives. Bleh!” said Frannie.
We all agreed no olives, but we ordered a table full of small plates and glasses of sangria. It felt ridiculously good to be with my girls and do something normal and not regimented.
“Did either of you know Abe sold his shop?” I asked.
Frannie slapped the table. “I noticed someone was doing work over there today.”
I cringed. I had made a concerted effort not to look across the street and I’d been busy enough that I hadn’t given in to temptation. “Why would he change Abe’s shop? It’s perfect.”
“Do you know who bought it?” Frannie asked.
Rachel raised her hand. “I do!”
“You knew and didn’t tell me?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You’re in there every day. I assumed Abe would tell you.”
“I don’t even see him most days since I go there so early. I didn’t find out until this morning when the new owner walked in on me playing.”
Frannie waved her hands around. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m in the dark here. Who bought it?”
I sighed. “Charlie.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Charlie? The deliciously handsome artist I met at Rachel and Joe’s Friendsgiving?”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s the one.”
“Why the face?” Rachel asked.
“I’ve met him once and he saw me humiliated and berated by Edward. I was really hoping I could avoid him for the rest of my life.”
Frannie patted my hand. “Sweetie, you had a shit-for-brains ex. That’s not your fault. We all felt sorry for you that day, but no one blamed you for it.”
Rachel nodded vigorously. “Charlie is a little rough around the edges, but he’s sweet. I’m one-hundred percent positive he didn’t judge you. He did judge the hell out of Edward, but we all did.”
I sipped my sweet wine and tried to convince myself to believe them. When I met Charlie, I had been in a terrible place in my life. I was with a boyfriend who had no qualms about calling me trashy in front of my friends because I had gotten a tattoo, but on the other hand, planned to propose to me in front of our families. Thankfully, I’d finally had enough and got out, but the humiliation I felt from the entire incident at Friendsgiving still held strong.
“Rach, if you think he’s great, then he probably is. All I know for sure is I’ll be at your place a lot more playing piano since I can’t go to the shop anymore,” I said.
Frannie’s perfectly arched eyebrows pinched together. “Did he tell you you couldn’t play there anymore?” She looked ready to throw down for me.
“No,” I admitted. “But I feel uncomfortable about the whole thing. I had an agreement with Abe, and it feels non-transferable.”
“You’re always welcome at our house. But I know how happy playing that baby grand makes you. You shouldn’t give it up just because Charlie’s the owner now. You said yourself you never really saw Abe when you went in the morning. That probably won’t change with Charlie. Although, I think you should give him a chance. He’s a nice guy and an amazing musician himself,” Rachel said.
My ears perked up at Charlie being a musician too. But that only made sense with him buying the music shop.
“I promise I’ll think about it. Now, can we talk wedding? I can’t believe it’s only six weeks away!”
Rachel clapped her hands. “Can we? Are you sure you’re not sick of hearing about it?”
“Never. You are the least bridezilla bride I’ve ever seen,” I said.
“I almost went bridesmaidzilla when you picked those shiny green dresses,” Frannie said.
Rachel sucked in air between her teeth and wrinkled her nose. “Those were so bad, weren’t they? It was a moment of insanity. I have no other excuse!”
“Have you and Joe chosen the songs you want me to play?” I asked.
“Don’t kill me, but not yet! It’s hard getting married to a musician. He has so many favorite songs that mean something different to him. He can’t choose!”
“Okay, well, hurry up! I need a couple weeks to practice.”
Rachel had asked Frannie and me to be bridesmaids, but she was going a little nontraditional with my role by having me play their processional and recessional music for the ceremony. I was nervous—playing in front of people wasn’t something I ever did—but Rachel and Joe were one of my favorite love stories, so I would do anything to make the day they finally walked down the aisle even more special.
“Have you decided what you want to do for your bachelorette party?” Frannie asked.
Rachel waved her hands around and whisper-shouted, “I can’t make any more decisions! As long as there’s booze, nineties music, and my girls, I’ll be happy!”
Frannie laughed. “Okay, girl, I’ve got you.”
After we stuffed ourselves full of tapas, we said goodnight and Frannie drove to her condo in Baltimore while Rachel and I walked to our places in Tiber City.
My apartment was only two buildings up from my salon, on the top floor of a former bank built in the 1920s. When I got to the landing outside my door, there was an envelope on my welcome mat. I picked it up, noticing the weight, and when I opened it, a very familiar key fell into my hand. The note that accompanied it made me laugh.
In a messy scrawl, it read:
Dear Miss Eliza,
I think this key belongs to you. You seem to have misplaced it. I have a proposition for you. Out of the kindness of my heart, I will allow you to continue breaking and entering into my fine establishment in exchange for semi-regular haircuts. I hear hair is your thing. As part of the deal, I might periodically listen to you play, but I’ll stay in a dark corner so I don’t creep you out too much. Although…have I creeped you out by leaving a note at your door? Probably. I hope we can come to an agreement anyway, because my hair seems to keep growing and your salon is awfully convenient. Blink once for ‘Yes,’ blink twice for ‘No.’ You blinked once, right? Cool. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.
Your faithful patron,
Charlie Hamada
I knew he was trouble when I first saw him, with his tattoos and stupidly chiseled cheekbones. And this note confirmed it. Not only was he too attractive for his own good, he also seemed to be really funny and maybe even a little sweet. Definitely trouble.
Three
Joe was behind me, slowly playing his violin, while Rachel did the cabbage patch around the room and I played the piano. We were deep into P!nk’s playlist and Joe had switched from guitar to violin for “Try.”
Rachel always said not to question why Joe had so many P!nk songs as part of his repertoire. It seemed Joe could pretty much play any song you threw at him on practically any instrument. He was definitely one of my musical idols.
“Do ‘Just Like Fire’!” Rachel called out. That was her main role of the evening once we shushed her awful singing: to make requests and see if we could do it. I usually had to look up sheet music on Joe’s tablet, but he somehow figured it out on his own. I always wondered if Rachel just randomly requested music when they were alone together and he jumped to play it. Probably, knowing the two of them.
I glanced behind me to see Rachel nuzzling Joe’s neck, and he tipped his head back to kiss her. They were in my top ten love stories of all time, probably even top five. In my head, I liked to call their story “Words Mean Things,” because an email had broken them apart years ago, but texting had brought them back together.
I sighed. My romantic heart was fulfilled in their presence.
Joe switched back to his guitar, and we played the P!nk song like it was something we had done at least a hundred times before. Because my back was turned to him so I didn’t have to see him watching me, and because after almost a year of these jam sessions I finally felt comfortable with both of them, I sang along while I played. I was no P!nk, but I liked to think my voice was decent
. When I hit the chorus, I really belted out the lyrics, and Joe yelled, “Yeah!”
At the end of the song, I jumped out of my seat when a loud round of applause started behind me and that familiar voice said, “Get it, Eliza!”
Closing my eyes, I breathed out through my nose. Why?
I turned around, and there was Charlie standing next to Rachel with a big goofy grin on his face.
“Surprise! Charlie stopped by!” said Rachel in an overly enthusiastic voice.
She knew I was dying inside. I had a major fear of performing in front of strangers and I’d just done so involuntarily.
He had his hands deep in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels, completely casual and at ease. He’d done that the last time I saw him. It annoyed me how relaxed he was; it made me feel even more uptight.
“Hello again, Miss Eliza,” he said.
I sighed. My cheeks were burning, and my stomach was churning. Even though my “performance” was over, knowing he’d witnessed it made me feel nauseous.
“Hi, Charlie,” I said.
He flopped down on the couch next to Joe and gave him a bro-handshake.
“What’s up?” Joe asked.
“Not much. I was out with a friend earlier and didn’t feel like going home. It sounded like a concert was coming from your house, so I thought I’d stop by. Glad I did. The two of you should be doing shows together.”
Joe pointed to me. “She’s the one who needs to be convinced. It was like pulling teeth to get her to play in front of just me!”
Rachel nodded. “I knew Eliza for years before she told me she played piano. She keeps her skills on the down-low.”
They all looked at me expectantly. Damn, so my wish for invisibility didn’t work.
“I love to play, just not in front of people. It’s just...not my thing,” I said softly.
Charlie cocked his head, appearing to be contemplating what I’d said.
“That’s cool. I get it. It’s a shame, but I get it.” Charlie gave me a warm smile.
I looked down at my hands. I didn’t want to like him. I didn’t want him to get me. And I certainly didn’t want him to see me like this—self-conscious and shy.
“So, Charlie, was the friend you were with a lady friend?” Rachel asked, breaking the awkward silence.
He chuckled. “Yeah. We’ve gone out a couple times, but I don’t know. We’re not really vibing. I mean, obviously, because here I sit with you fine people at nine o’clock on a Friday night.”
“How’d you meet?” Rachel asked.
“Through friends. But yeah, I think tonight was our last date.”
“Do you think she knows that?” I asked.
Rachel raised her eyebrows, and Charlie leaned forward. “What do you mean?” he asked.
I bit the corner of my lip. The question had just popped out before I could stop it.
“I mean, does she know you won’t be calling for another date? Or will you just ghost her until she gets the message?”
“Well, considering she was the one who ended the date, I’m thinking the feeling is mutual. I’m not some dick who ghosts women I’m not interested in. And I tend to be into women who would punch me in the fucking face if I tried that. Not that I would. I like to think I’m pretty open and honest,” Charlie said.
And now, I was the dick. Of course. I should have kept quiet, but there was something about Charlie that triggered me. Probably because he’d seen parts of my life I was protective of. But he’d been nothing but friendly toward me. I had a feeling he was like that with everyone.
“Oh, well, that’s good. I just hated the thought of a woman wondering where things went wrong and never knowing the answer,” I said quietly.
Charlie watched me for a beat, then gave me a quick grin. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Miss Eliza. I assure you she is not sitting at home pining over me. She informed me she was going out to get, and I quote,” he did a Kardashian-style vocal fry, “‘schwasted with her franz.’ As charmed as you may be by me, not every woman is,” he said.
I snorted out a laugh. “Okay, Charlie.”
“Eliza has been out of the dating scene for forever. I don’t think she remembers how it works,” Joe said.
“Hey! I’m a hair stylist. Even if I haven’t personally dated in years, I’ve heard all the horror stories from my clients. I’m kind of scared to get back out there,” I said.
Rachel held up my phone. “Should we download Tinder and see your choices then?”
I covered my face with my hands. “Oh god, no! I think that’s something I’ll have to do when I’m by myself. I can’t think of many things more painfully embarrassing than letting you guys watch me pick my best pictures and brag about myself.”
Rachel waved me away. “As if I’d let you do that yourself. Obviously I would be the one to set up your profile. Who better to brag about you than your best friend?”
I shouldn’t have laughed because it was clear Rachel was completely serious. “Okay, well, when I decide I’m ready to go for it, I’ll let you know and we can do it when we’re alone.”
“I can’t picture Eliza on Tinder,” Charlie said.
I scrunched my nose at him. “Why?”
Rachel put her hands on her hips. “Yeah, why?”
He held up his hands in front of him. “Hey, I don’t mean any offense. I just picture Eliza as more of an e-harmony type.”
I screwed up my face even more. “I don’t even want to know what that means. And I’m not sure you’re qualified to determine my type.”
“And I was a pretty steady Tinder user pre-Joe. So what type am I?” Rachel asked.
Charlie looked scared. “Uhhh, I’m not sure? I’ll probably just be quiet now.”
Joe strummed his guitar. “All I know is I’m happy I have my sweet girl and I don’t have to worry about any of this anymore.” Rachel blew him a kiss, and he pretended to catch it and press it to his chest. God, they were cute. “Oh, and the other thing I know is there is entirely too much talking right now and not enough music being made.”
Charlie stood up. “Oh, I’m on the drums!” he declared. He then went over to the set Joe kept tucked in the corner.
“I think I’ll sit this one out,” I said. I really wasn’t ready to knowingly play in front of Charlie yet.
Charlie tapped his sticks on the drums. “What are we playing?”
Joe tipped his head to his girl. “Rachel?”
She rubbed her hands together. “Hmmm...I think I want to go classic. What about some Weezer?”
“‘Buddy Holly’?” I asked.
Joe looked at Charlie. “Can you handle it?”
He started a beat on the tom, then tapped a cymbal. “I actually know this one. It’s one of the songs I taught myself when I started playing drums as a kid.”
The two of them took a minute to get into the song and find their rhythm, but once they did, I found my knee bouncing to the beat. Rachel, of course, was up, dancing around the room, as usual. I mouthed the words to myself, but Rachel wasn’t shy. She and Joe were singing the song at the top of their lungs.
I glanced at Charlie. He was bent over the drums, trying to keep the rhythm while he laughed. He caught me looking and smiled, then shook his head. I couldn’t stop the smile I returned.
This was happiness. A year ago, I’d been with Edward, and Rachel and Joe were just reconnecting. It was kind of startling when I thought of how little time had passed, yet how much had changed. The happiness part was the biggest change for me. It had been incremental at times, moving so slowly I barely noticed it, and then there were times like right now when I was buried in an avalanche of it.
Joe and Charlie played a few more songs before we all decided to call it a night. Charlie offered to walk me home, and since there was no way I could say no without being rude, and because I didn’t actually have a legitimate reason to say no, I let him.
The street was quiet, and the evening was cool. I walked quickly down the side
walk, and Charlie rushed to keep up.
“I noticed you haven’t been by the shop in a couple days,” he said.
“That’s true,” I said.
“Did you get my note?”
“I did. It was very cute. Thank you for the offer.”
“And…? Are you going to take me up on it?”
“I’m still thinking.”
He sighed. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”
I glanced over at him. “We probably did.”
“Can we start over?”
“I’m not sure how that’s possible. I’ll still remember you met me at the shittiest time of my life, and you’ll still remember seeing me like that. So, while I’d love nothing more than for both of us to forget that, I know it won’t happen.” We stopped in front of my building. “This is me.”
“Eliza, after tonight, the first thing I’ll think of when I think of you is that you have the voice of an angel when you sing. Come play my piano,” he said.
I felt myself blushing. I was counting on the night to hide my burning cheeks.
“You just want a free haircut,” I said.
“You caught me. I’m after you for your scissors skills.”
The corners of my mouth were twitching, and I finally gave in and smiled at him. It seemed it was impossible not to.
“Good night, Charlie.”
He grinned and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Good night, Miss Eliza. I hope I’ll be seeing you soon.”
He watched me climb my stairs, and when I opened my door, I looked back at him before I stepped inside. He held up a hand, and I waved back, then closed the door.
I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. Tonight was unexpected, but nevertheless, it had been a good night. A really good night.
Four
I held out for three more days. I went on longer runs to try to fill that extra hour I now had and even let myself sleep in past six. But by day four, my hands were shaking and I felt like I was about to break into cold sweats when I passed the music shop on the way to the running trail. I was seriously jonesing for the piano.
