Friends

Maureen held her left eyelid down by the lashes and painted a thin even line. Perfect. She could probably do it with both eyes closed. But not today. She finished her makeup and looked at her watch. Exactly 2:45, just as she thought.

Maureen regarded this with mixed feelings: On the one hand it was kind of a kick, being able to know how long things would take or what time it was to the very second, like a bartender who mixes, shakes, then fills the glass up to the exact brim. On the other hand, the predictability of her life was getting creepy.

She checked her profile in the mirror, smoothed her slacks, stepped into her low-heeled shoes.  For a second she thought the clothes were all wrong, but the hell with it. These were the black pants right in the middle of dressy and casual, and this maroon cashmere sweater worked for everything.

She picked up her jacket and bag, snapped off the lights, and checked the locked door behind her.

On the elevator she calculated. This time of day the Uber would take ten minutes to get to her, then another 45 to get to Will and May’s. She’d have the driver drop her off a five-minute walk away so there wouldn’t be any comments from the two of them about taking an Uber instead of the bus.

She figured in an extra five minutes if it was necessary to talk to the neighbors or their children, who might be outside this time of day.

She climbed into the Uber exactly ten minutes after she called it, then watched through the window as the buildings and traffic lights turned to trees and phone poles. Why so grim? she asked herself. May was probably her oldest friend, because Maureen now had a whole other group of people to hang out with and talk about work, the arts, emerging trends, whatever.

For some reason, she kept in touch with May, with whom she never talked about those things; she hadn’t bothered to keep up with anyone else from her life before she’d gotten this job and moved to the city. It was hard to remember, now, what it was she and May and Sal and Monica found so funny, when they’d laugh and laugh.

She didn’t want to remember the stupid chances they took for fun, like stealing things and kiting checks. Could have ruined her whole life.

Monica had been the worst – she got everyone to join her in stupid stunts, but May was more on Maureen’s wavelength. They’d been really close, Maureen admitted to herself, confiding in and comforting one another about family things, relationships, and just the struggle to figure out their places in the world. They used to talk about everything.

But as the Uber got close to Will and May’s street, Maureen wanted to tell the driver to forget it and turn back. She dreaded these visits; they were fewer and farther between but that didn’t make them any less difficult. Why was she putting herself through this? she wondered. When she paid and got out, Maureen told herself to just keep walking, keep the legs moving.

She took a deep, calming breath. Someone was cooking chicken. It was a little warm, so she took off her jacket and carried it and took another deep breath. She didn’t really want to be there; May never visited her, and Maureen was a lot busier than May. Will was on the wagon so there’d be nothing to drink, even though Maureen would always have something for them if they ever came over.

She reached the house, walked up the broken cement steps, and knocked at the door. “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” she heard, and the door opened to a little person in a too-big Tweety Bird tee shirt. The child shrieked a laugh and ran to hide behind an armchair with cat-scratched green upholstery.

The room looked like it always did: the fold-out sofa under the picture of sailboats, the eternal laundry basket under the ironing board, books and magazines stacked on every surface except where a couple of framed photos rested. Will and May on the Cog Railway, Will and May at the Laconia races, Will and May dressed up in a suit and a flowered dress, posing for the camera.  

That little table was in the corner with post-its all around it, the one May had lugged from place to place to use as a desk, ever since Maureen had known her.

May came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “You don’t have to knock,” she said. The little girl came out from behind the chair and hid behind May’s legs.  

“Who’s this?” Maureen said as the little girl peeked out at her.

“Babysitting. Sorry. Elizabeth was desperate. How you doing, Tiggy? Come on in the kitchen with me.”

They went into May’s kitchen where Maureen hung her bag and jacket on a chair, and May put on a mitt then pulled two loaves of bread out of the oven. The kitchen hadn’t changed either, the counters jammed with tins and canisters, dishes in the drying rack, the worn linoleum floor tiles, the decades-old stove, refrigerator, and sink.   

“That smells great,” Maureen said.

“Your recipe, Tiggy,” said May.

“Do you have to call me that?” Maureen said, too sharp. “I’m sorry May. No one calls me that anymore.”

“No, I’m sorry. What do they call you? Mora? Morrie? I’ll try to get used to it.”

“Maureen. And I don’t bake anymore. Call the recipe yours,” Maureen said, then changed the subject. “You look good May,” she said. “Every time I see you, you look happy.”

“I am Tig— Maureen. Here, sit in the living room, the kitchen’s hot. I’ll get you something to drink,” May said. 

Maureen sat on the fold-out and crossed her legs. A drink would be fine right now. The little girl climbed up and looked at her, then folded her hands and crossed her legs. She said to Maureen, “What’s your name?”

“What’s your name?” Maureen asked.

“I asked you first,” the little girl said. May came in with two tumblers.

“That’s Mimi. Mimi honey, go look at your books.”

“Thanks,” said Maureen, taking the tumbler and sipping. “Nothing stronger?”

May said, “Sure,” and took the glass back into the kitchen. “Ice?” she called.

“Fine,” said Maureen. “Have one with me.”

May brought two smaller glasses. “Let’s sit outside,” she said.

Maureen thought, Well, I’m here. Go with it, have a visit. “Let’s,” she said.

The little girl came out with them carrying a coloring book and two crayons, and sat on the steps. Maureen and May sat on wicker chairs at either end of the porch and sipped the gin and tonics. Maureen said, “You’ve got a nice tan.”

“I’m out in the yard all day,” said May.

“What else do you do?” Maureen asked, and hoped it didn’t sound the way she thought it did.

“Nothing much. Nothing very interesting,” May said, and wiped the condensation from her glass with her shirt.    

“Really?  I’m sure you do lots of interesting things out here.” There it was again. “How’s Will?”

“Fine. Wonderful. Maureen, is there something wrong?”

“Me? No.” Maureen finished her drink. “Mind if I get another one? No, don’t get up. I’ll be right back.” Maureen went into the kitchen and looked at the table. She pictured the three of them sitting there and remembered why, last time she was here, she told herself never again.

It was over supper. Too close. Nothing to say. May and Will didn’t want to leave her out of a conversation, so they didn’t say anything either. She was still staring at the table when May came in a minute later.

“What’s going on?” May asked. “Sit down.”

“I have to go, May. I’m sorry. I’ve got such a headache,” Maureen said.

“I’ll get you some Motrin,” May said.

“No, it’s not really a headache. I just can’t stay for supper.” Maureen looked away.

May looked over at the bread cooling on the rack. “I’m sure you can put up with us for a little while,” she said.

“Come on, May. I don’t mean that. I just, I don’t know. I tell you what I’m doing, you tell me what you’re doing. And does it matter? I mean we’re different than we were. That’s obvious—” There was that tone again. “I mean, we’re not friends with anyone else we used to know. Sal, Monica –”

“I see Monica all the time,” said May. “Tiggy, we are the same people. Things could have gone either way for both of us. I could have gotten a good job, you could have met a Will and gotten married.”

Maureen smiled at that.

“Right?” May said.

“A Will. You know, you are right. I could have met a Will.”

“So sit down and relax. Here, I’ll fix you another one.Then I’m going to bring Mimi home and I’ll be right back,” May said. “We’ll still have a minute to talk before Will gets home.” She handed Maureen the fresh drink and left.

Maureen sat and stretched her legs out. She kicked off her flats and stretched out her toes.  

May was right. This could have been her world. That fine line they stepped over when May said she was getting married to Will and Maureen took that job at the publisher’s – a job either one of them could have done. At the last minute they both asked each other if it was the right thing to do, getting married, taking a job.  

Will’s pick-up pulled up and he came into the kitchen. “Tiggy, hey. How’d you get here? No car. Bus?”

“I Ubered,” said Maureen.

“You Ubered.”  

Maureen smiled at him.  

Will sat down at the table with her. “Bread smells good,” he said. “Get you something?” 

Maureen took the last sip and said, “I was just getting another one of these,” and handed him her glass. “Oh wait. Does it bother you? I mean—”

“Cause I’m sober? It’s ok, Tiggy. No, it doesn’t bother me. May has a drink now and then, it’s fine.” He went to the cupboard and Maureen followed him. She put her arms around his middle and hugged him to her. Will turned around and put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back, smiling.

“Tig –”   She hooked her index fingers in his belt loops and pulled him back to her hard, and his face changed as she pressed her cheek against his. They struggled for a moment, she pulling and he pushing. “What are you doing, Tig?” he asked as he grabbed her two hands in his right and shoved her back with his left.

“Just glad you’re home,” Maureen said with surprise, leaning back on him with her whole body. “Did you have a good day, darling?” 

May came in and Will looked at her over Maureen’s head and shrugged. May said, “I think you took what I said too seriously, Tiggy.” 

Maureen looked at May as if it was the first time she’d ever seen her. She looked back at Will the same way. She laughed a quick, high laugh and said, “Oh no. No, I didn’t take it seriously.” 

She got her jacket and bag from the back of the chair. “I have to go now,” she said. She got her phone out and left, speed-dialing Uber, determined not to wipe her cheeks or eyes in front of them. May and Will watched her go.

“What was that about?” asked Will.

“I don’t know.  I think she’s drinking too much.”

“Is that it?  You made this nice dinner. Why don’t you give Monica a call and ask her over?”

“I’ll do that,” said May.

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Find more Will & May stories – and other great fiction right here!

• Before They’re Gone – a Will & May Story
• At the Red Door – a Will & May Story
• For Thine is the Power – a Will & May Story
• Bobbing On the Ocean – a Will & May Story
• Emma’s Place – Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 – Mystery Fiction
• By the Light of the Moon – Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 & Part 4 – Romance Fiction