The Art of Us

by KL Hughes

  Alex lets her pass before standing to head out as well. She grabs the bag holding her uneaten pastry as well as the steadily cooling coffee she’s yet to take a sip from and makes her way toward the street corner. She doesn’t get very far, though, before her name cuts through the air.

  “Alex!”

  She spins on the spot and her heart jumps into her throat. She barely has time to swallow it back down before Charlee is jogging down the sidewalk toward her, short breaths clouding out in front of her with each rapid step. The last one puffs against Alex’s own face just seconds before Charlee throws her arms around her neck and yanks her into a hard, gripping embrace.

  The cold air pricks as it pushes into Alex’s lungs and burns on the way out, as if the tears she’d only just seen in Charlee’s eyes have somehow slipped inside her and are scorching, like acid, up the length of her airway. She doesn’t hesitate when Charlee’s chest melts against hers, when Charlee’s arms curl around her, and when one hand slides into her hair. Alex wraps her own arms around Charlee’s waist and holds her close, turns her face into Charlee’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of all her used-to-bes and forget-me-nots. She tries to let this be enough. It will have to last her a lifetime. She tries to make it enough.

  “I could never hate you,” Charlee says. And with the warm whisper against her ear, Alex knows that it isn’t.

  It isn’t enough.

  It will never be enough.

  “You can’t just quit, Alex.”

  Alex curled around her pillow, phone tucked between it and her ear. For the first time in weeks, she had the opportunity to sleep in, but she couldn’t. She barely slept all night, and now the sun was glaring through her window. Her eyes felt like tiny balls of fire in her skull.

  Across the room, a hole in the wall glared at her, television remote still protruding from it. There was a broken plate in the kitchen sink that she had zero intentions of doing anything about and a poorly bandaged cut on her hand from breaking the damned plate. Her pillow was so damp from tears and snot that the feel of it made her cringe. She’d never cried so much in her entire life, but throwing things, breaking things—that she was familiar with, thanks to plenty of temporary parents with anger issues.

  She felt drained.

  “What does it matter?” she grumbled into the phone, voice scratching along her throat. “What does any of it matter if I can’t share it with her?”

  “It matters, Alex,” Vinny said. “You know it matters.”

  “More than Charlee?”

  “You have to stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  Vinny sighed. “You can’t keep comparing your career to your girlfriend. You shouldn’t have to choose, okay? I know what you have with Charlee is rare or special or whatever, but you have to live your life. Charlee’s here living hers. She might be a blubbering mess right now just like you, but she’s doing it. She’s selling her work. She’s doing exactly what she planned on doing, and that’s what you’re doing too. You worked your ass off for the grades you got so you could make a life for yourself, one way fucking better than what we started with. You went out there to take this opportunity by the balls—”

  “Gross, Vinny.”

  “Okay, so you went out there to take this opportunity by the ovaries—better?”

  “Not really.”

  “And you did. Look how far you’ve gotten. They offered you a full-time job, Alex. That’s huge.”

  “I know.”

  “I know you know, so stop. Stop talking about quitting. Stop talking about how it isn’t worth it, because it is. You deserve this. I know you have a hard time believing that, and, trust me, I get it. It’s not like we grew up with an abundance of people believing in us or whatever, but you deserve this, okay? You deserve this opportunity. You worked so fucking hard to get it, so you’re going to take it because you know you should. You know you want to. And you know Charlee wants you to take it too.”

  “Charlee wants me to come home,” Alex said against her pillow, reaching up to rub at her burning eyes. “She wants me to come home.”

  “Yeah, she does, and that’s because she loves you, but she also wants you to succeed. She wants you to take this opportunity—”

  “By the ovaries.”

  “—by the fucking ovaries, that’s right, and she wants you to have your dreams. And Alex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That, too, is because she loves you.”

  “I’m going to lose her.” Alex’s chest ached so hard at the thought that she had to physically press her hand to it. “I’m going to lose her, Vinny, and I don’t think I can bear it.”

  “Do you know what I think?”

  “That I’m being childish?”

  “No,” Vinny said with a soft laugh. “I think life has a way of surprising us. I never thought I’d find my family, you know. Especially not with some scrawny kid who punched a grown man in the face for trying to touch me. I never thought I’d have anyone to love, Alex, but I have you, and you have me, and I think that’s just the way it was meant to be. It’s the same with you and Charlee.”

  Alex buried herself farther into her sticky pillow and rubbed at her eyes again. They ached like they would flood any second, but she didn’t think she had any more tears in her to give. She whispered into the phone. “Meant to be?”

  “Meant to be.”

  This is, without a doubt, the most painfully awkward situation Charlee has ever been in, and that includes the time she and Alex got caught hiding in an empty campus art studio with their hands literally down each other’s pants. Still, this dinner—it’s worse. Much worse.

  Restaurant patrons murmur to one another, having quiet conversations that seem to go on seamlessly, but at their table—nothing. Silence endures, interrupted only by the scraping, squeaking sounds of forks against plates and teeth. Charlee’s skin crawls. Already on her third glass of wine, she’s desperate for it to be over so she can run home, bury her head in her pillow, and scream until her voice gives out.

  Why, why, had she agreed to this?

  Oh, right—because she felt guilty about the awkward situation at the gallery, about the elephant-in-the-room painting that had only made the situation worse. Well, that and because Chris had accepted the offer before Charlee even had the chance to open her mouth to decline.

  Charlee glances over at Alex. She can’t stop herself. Every ten seconds like clockwork. She glances up, and as if she can feel her gaze, Alex looks up too. Their eyes meet for a brief moment before they both go back to staring at their plates, back to the tense silence that has turned this dinner into the exact opposite of what it was meant to be.

  Kari had suggested they could get to know one another. Yet, here they are, eating in the same uncomfortable silence that has persisted since they were shown to their table.

  Chris clears his throat. It shakes Charlee from her thoughts. Closing her eyes, she prays he’ll suck that sound right back down and decide that attempting conversation isn’t something he really wants to do after all. She wants this awful silence to send them flying straight toward the end of this disaster as quickly as possible. Any interruption is only going to slow the process.

  “Food’s good,” he says, receiving nothing more than two courtesy smiles from Alex and Kari and a barely contained groan from Charlee.

  “So, Alex.” He tries again. “You and Charlee used to date, huh?”

  The urge to slide off her chair and hide under the table has never been stronger. She has to physically force herself not to. She’s partway to convincing herself no one would notice if she scurried out from under the table like a rat and made a break for it. Then again, she can already feel Alex’s glare boring into her face as if she can read her thoughts and is silently screaming something along the lines of don’t you fucking dare, Charlee Parker!

 
Alex downs a gulp of wine so large it looks painful to swallow and plasters on a smile that almost makes Charlee laugh. “Yes,” she says, and that’s all she gives—one short, clipped word that, to anyone other than Chris, would have read loud and clear as the warning it was.

  Chris, however, merely nods and carries on. “How long were you two together?”

  “Four years.”

  Chris chokes on the piece of shrimp he’d only just popped into his mouth.

  Alex’s voice drones as she arches a brow and says, “Are you all right?”

  Practically guzzling her wine, Charlee gives Chris one good, hard smack on the back. “Yeah, sorry,” he says, coughing. “I just wasn’t expecting that. That’s a long time.”

  “It surprised me as well,” Kari says.

  Chris releases an awkward, gruff laugh that makes Charlee’s eye twitch. “Well, I guess it’s nice we can all be friends,” he says, and Charlee snorts into her now-empty glass of wine.

  When Alex looks up at her at the sound, Charlee can only shrug and try not to burst into laughter. This dinner is so awkward it borders on painful, and Charlee can feel the heat of her buzz flushing her cheeks, steadily sapping away her ability to give a fuck.

  “Hopefully we can, yes,” Kari says, and Charlee snorts again. Louder this time.

  She feels a hard kick to her shin under the table, a kick she knows came from Alex, but she really can’t bring herself to care. This is a goddamned train wreck.

  Chris pats her knee, but he doesn’t otherwise acknowledge her behavior. In fact, no one does. They simply carry on with their dinner and their stilted conversation as if Charlee isn’t there at all.

  “So, how did you two meet?” Chris asks, and Charlee can no longer keep quiet.

  “Oh, let me tell this!” Charlee beams as she reaches for her glass only to remember that it’s empty. She shrugs and reaches for Chris’s instead, taking one big gulp before launching into her story.

  Charlee was cutting it close. She only had ten minutes to get parked and find her way to the right building before orientation was set to begin. She would’ve gotten there sooner, but traffic had been awful, which she also could’ve avoided had she not had to drive. But all of her stuff was in her car, since she was moving into her dorm after orientation.

  A cherry-red Camaro was backing out of a space in the already packed parking lot just as Charlee turned in, the first fortunate thing to happen to her all morning. Her midnight-blue Mustang roared as Charlee whipped into the parking lot and into the free space as soon as the Camaro cleared it.

  Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she turned off the car and climbed out.

  “Get back in your car!”

  Charlee whirled on the spot and came face-to-face with a tall, leggy brunette with wild curly hair and stunning eyes, green like a sprawling forest. Only, at that moment, the forest was on fire. Charlee blinked. “What?” She blurted the response. “Me?”

  “Yes, you! Get back in your car, put it in reverse, and get out of my spot!” As soon as the words were out, the girl bit her lip and shifted on her feet. Visibly uncomfortable. She then sharply added, “Please.”

  “Your spot?” Charlee toyed with the strap of her backpack with one hand and used the other to smooth out a wrinkle in her gray university T-shirt. “Um, I’m pretty sure there aren’t reserved or assigned spots in this lot. It’s public parking.”

  “I know that, but I was waiting for this spot because the rest of the lot is full.”

  “Well, I didn’t see you.” Charlee shrugged. “But I really don’t have time to move my car. I’m going to be late for orientation, so I need to go. I’m sure you can find another spot. Sorry.”

  She started to walk by, but the other girl blocked her path. “You didn’t see me? You didn’t see me? Are you serious?”

  For some reason, even in her anger, Charlee found the girl charming—something about her bushy hair and bright eyes, the way her skinny legs couldn’t seem to keep still. Something about the annoyed little please she added onto her earlier demand. It almost made Charlee laugh, and she couldn’t help but to want to push her buttons a bit. “I mean, that’s what I said, isn’t it?”

  “I know you saw me sitting here.” She pointed to her beat-up teal Sunfire, old and dented, but very clean. A medallion hung from the rearview mirror, catching the sun as it swiveled in place. “With my blinker on. Waiting for this spot. I know you did!”

  “You’re like three cars down. How was I supposed to know you were waiting for this spot?”

  “I was giving the guy space to get out!”

  “That’s a lot of space,” Charlee said, and the girl looked on the verge of exploding.

  “Look, I waited seven full minutes for this spot,” she said, “because the idiot in the Camaro had to sit in his car and, I don’t know, text someone a freaking novel or something before he finally decided to move.” She rolled her eyes so dramatically it looked painful, and Charlee suppressed a smile. “And I’m going to be late for orientation too. So I’m sorry, but I don’t care what you’ve got going on. I was here first. I waited. This spot is mine, so move your damned car!” The girl huffed at her, blowing hair out of her face, and then, again, tacked on another annoyed little please.

  “Wow,” Charlee said, unable to stop the smile from blooming this time. “And I thought I had a rough morning.” She jingled her keys at the girl. “I’m moving it, okay? Take a breath.”

  “Thank you!” She turned to head back to her own car, mumbling loud enough for Charlee to hear her. “Of course I have to get stuck waiting seven minutes for a spot only to have some rich, blonde ditz with a sports car think she can just take it. And I wouldn’t have even been late if Vinny hadn’t—”

  “Did you just call me a ditz?”

  The leggy brunette froze in place for a moment before spinning on her heel to face her. Charlee walked around her car to move into the girl’s space.

  “Did you?”

  All clenched jaw and hard eyes, the girl didn’t apologize but simply rested her hands on her hips and seemed to be silently daring Charlee to say something else, to prove her wrong.

  Charlee glanced past her again and nodded toward the girl’s car. “That medal hanging from your mirror. Did you graduate with honors?”

  The girl seemed surprised for a moment, stiffening and glancing toward her car before turning back to Charlee. She nodded. Brief. Ever annoyed. “Valedictorian,” she said, the word clipped.

  “Looks a lot like the medal I got for having honors in all my subjects,” Charlee said pointedly. “I didn’t get valedictorian or salutatorian, but I was third in my class overall. But, you know, if that makes me a ditz, then sure, I guess I’m a ditz.”

  When the other girl’s expression crumpled, Charlee knew she had her. “So maybe you’re not a ditz,” she conceded, though her body remained drawn up, still standing tall. “But you’re still incredibly rude.”

  Charlee couldn’t help the laugh that worked its way up and out into the summer air. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she said, delighting in how the girl’s jaw dropped, “you know that?” Charlee shook her head as she let out another laugh. “A cute asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.”

  She didn’t let the girl get a word in before climbing into her Mustang and backing out of the parking spot. She ended up being late for orientation, but Charlee thought maybe it was worth it. The cute asshole was there too, and Charlee noticed that she couldn’t seem to stop staring from across the room.

  Charlee loses herself in the story a bit, laughing as she does her best to imitate Alex’s voice and body language in that first encounter. She smiles at the memory, as vivid as the day it happened, but when she snaps back to reality at the story’s end, her smile falls in seconds.

  The table is silent once again. Everyone but Alex seems to be avoiding her gaze. Kari
stares down at her plate, brows visibly arching toward her hairline as she shifts her food around with her fork, and Chris has taken to finishing the rest of his wine. There is such sadness in Alex’s eyes that Charlee can hardly bear to hold her gaze.

  “What?” she blurts out, unable to hold it in. “You asked.”

  Chris scratches at the back of his neck and says, “Uh, actually, babe, I was talking to Kari. I was asking her how she met Alex.”

  Her entire body goes cold but for her burning cheeks. Her stomach drops as if she just went into free fall. For one hard, painful, breathless moment, Charlee’s afraid she might actually pass out.

  “It’s fine, though,” Chris says, patting her knee again. “That was a funny story. I’m surprised you two ended up dating after that.”

  The air suddenly feels hot, too hot. Charlee jumps from her seat, nearly knocking her chair to the ground. Her head spins from the alcohol in her system, and she can’t breathe. Everything’s rushing around her, warping in and out of focus, and it’s still too hot. Charlee stumbles from the table. She barely registers the sounds of both Chris and Alex calling out to her.

  The cold stabs at her face, a relieving kind of pain as she staggers out of the restaurant and onto the busy city sidewalk. She gulps in great mouthfuls of the icy air, trying to force it down into her lungs, but it only sticks in her throat. Hardening. Choking her. Tears well in her eyes as she makes it to the curb and throws a hand in the air, flicking her wrist. She needs to get home. Needs to get away. Needs to breathe.

  A cab jumps from the busy street and pulls up. Charlee’s fumbling with the door handle when arms suddenly close around her from behind and yank her back.

  “Chris, let go.” She gasps around the words. “I can’t. I can’t bre—”

  “Charlee, stop.”

  She immediately stills at the sound of her name on Alex’s tongue, at the realization that Alex’s arms are around her instead of Chris’s. She gasps even harder for air that just won’t soothe. But she melts back into Alex’s arms. “I can’t,” she says, wheezing. “I can’t breathe.”