misguided ghosts;

Charlie always seemed to have a shower of compliments for Sutton. It was clear she was blinded by the friendship, but she wasn’t complaining. Of course she always became a bit bashful. Confidence was never something Sutton beamed, though she was working on it. Vanity was something she may never possess.  The shyness became even more so when Charlie suggested a picture. “I am sure all of the photographs have been beautiful so far. You are insanely talented.” She nudged her friend slightly. “But you know how I feel about being photographed. I don’t know.” Her face contorted into a smile that said ‘please don’t make me pose uncomfortably for you.’

Charlie smiled at the compliment. She had been struggling for a while with her photos, but tonight felt like a good night, so her friend’s compliment was appreciate. She tilted her head slightly at Sutton’s unsurprising hesitation. There was no way Sutton wasn’t feeling herself at least a little tonight. Not when she looked so amazing. “Sutton Day, you can’t be at a wedding with a dress that fire, and expect no one to take pictures of you,” she spoke in a feigned scolding manner. She was confident enough in her abilities that even Sutton would think she looked nice in a picture. “It’s just me, so relax. Pretend I’m not even here. I’ll even show you the pictures after, and if you don’t like them then I’ll delete ‘em.”

–

Sutton couldn’t remember a time where she ever looked like this. Most of the time she wore a sweater and some jeans or a sweater vest or a flowy sun dress or some overalls. A tight dress was something new for her. Before leaving the house, she stared at herself in the mirror debating whether or not she should wear something else. The brunette knew if she came in something different, Charlie would talk her ear off about it, but also, she kind of liked the way she looked. Sure, it was a bit sexy, but who was to say Sutton Day couldn’t be sexy? “I think it’s a little less impressive when you didn’t actually carry the baby, Char.” She shook her head, still managing to blush at the compliment. Perhaps the only thing that could take her mind off of this hell of a wedding that was just reminders of her rejection was Charlie complimenting her endlessly. “You look hot yourself.” She giggled softly. 

“Getting some good photos?”

Charlie laughed at Sutton’s reply. “Who cares if you didn’t actually carry the baby? A MILF’s a MILF. I bet if you did pop one out you’d still look the same, so.” She was glad Sutton could have some fun tonight, rather than the usual Mom duties. Charlie knew she needed a little fun that didn’t involve finally getting a few free hours for a nap. “Why thank you,” she smirked at the compliment. “It’s hard trying to look like a ten all the time when you have a wife that looks like mine.” She looked down at her camera and gave a small nod. “Pretty sure I am. It’s going to take me days to sort through all of these, but I’m feeling good about them. The most perfect shot I got so far was the kiss at the altar, so I almost don’t care about what other pictures I take.” She gave Sutton a quick look over before lifting her camera up. “Emphasis on almost. I’m going to have to politely demand some pictures in that dress.”

The energy at this wedding was contagious, as Charlie found herself more cheery than usual.  She had to have taken hundreds of photos by this point of the evening, and there was still plenty more to go. She walked past all the tables of the reception, looking around for her next subject. When she saw Sutton a few feet away, she quickly went over to her friend with a smirk. “Excuse me, ma’am? Did you not read the fine print on the wedding invitations? No MILFs allowed,” she teased. She had zero issue stroking her own ego looking at the pink dress she had basically forced Sutton to wear for the occasion. The dress wasn’t her own personal taste, but she knew the moment she looked at it that it would be perfect on Sutton. “Totally not being biased when I say you are killing it in that dress.”

–

Life had not only changed immensely for Sutton but for Charlie too. Marriage, therapy, coming back to Mystic for good. It was a lot. The brunette was super proud that her friends had been able to work through their things to end up where they were - happy. The other woman had grown in the short time from returning.Charlie seemed happy and that was all really Sutton wanted for her. Taking another bite of her meal, she nodded as the blonde spoke.

At the remark of her ‘I’m sorry’ tour, Sutton raised a brow. Without thinking much about it the words, “Like Rob,” slipped from her lips. The truth was when they were younger Charlie’s other friends seemed like an obstacle for Sutton. She often viewed Rob as the little devil on Charlie’s shoulder. After she left though, the two found common ground in her departure. Their friendship or undefined relationship really had it’s ups and downs. As Sutton grew closer to Charlie again, she found that Rob had become less apart of Sutton’s life. Not that Charlie knew any of this.

Sutton’s answered surprised Charlie, mainly because she hadn’t named anyone yet. “Yeah... are you a mind-reader? How did you know?” she teasingly asked. That was a bit strange, considering Sutton and Rob weren’t exactly simpatico in school. “Pretty sure she’s been avoiding me since I got back. Me and Carolina reconnected no problem, but...” She sighed. “Well, I get why she would. Avoid me, I mean. And it’s gone on this long ‘cause of me. Juggling too much, between my Dad, working things out with Sophie, and just fixing my usual bullsh--” Again with almost cussing. “-- bull...shark?” Terrible. She popped a fry in her mouth, eyes narrowing in thought. “She’s a slippery one, but I think I know how to trap her.” It wasn’t the smartest plan she had, but it was a plan. “I have a lot of work ahead of me. Not just with her, I have a whole laundry list to clean up still. But... I’m gonna be here a while anyway, so. Might as well. And if Soph can forgive me, I have a fair shot with everybody else right?”

-

“I do,” she offered then, the warmth her features held easily replaced by a motherly brand of affection—a near flash of pride, of her daughter had been one of the best things she’d ever done. “A daughter. Avery, she’s ten going on fifty,” she teased. That statement couldn’t have been more true it seemed, the longer they were in Mystic the older that little blonde seemed to be. A girl that looked so much like her father, and yet held a maturity and courage that neither of her parents seemed to have grasped. “Oh, I’ve never really been able to do rides,” she admitted then, nodding with that same smile plastered to her features. “Weak stomach here, though that is not something Avery seems to have inherited, thank God,” she added playfully, a joke at her own expense. Carolyn couldn’t imagine being able to afford Disney, on her single salary, let alone braving all those crowds. Yet the idea of the adventure. Of being able to share something like that with her daughter, was one her heart dearly wished would come true. Such a dream brought a renewed interest into Carolyn’s eyes as she listened to Charlie speak about the coast. Eyes finding the other through the reflection in the mirror, “YOLO?” she asked a little laugh at the word. Oh lord did she feel old in that moment.

Placing the spray bottle back upon her cart, she gently began to brush out Charlie’s hair, listening as she worked—reaching for the scissors, “Duly noted,” she told her playfully, “Though you’ve peaked my interest now with that sort of battle. Are you and your brother close?” Carolyn had always wanted a sibling growing up—had wanted to give one to Avery, though fate had not been so kind. Such an avenue was not entirely closed to that little family, though the woman couldn’t fathom adoption or fostering in that moment. Not with everything as it was. At the mention of the other’s wife, her grin remained though grew toothless. “Did you meet your wife on all of those adventures or?” she asked, genuinely curious. A sucker for a good love story.

She laughed then, at the question, “Me crazy? Oh no. Bed by seven if I had the option,” she teased herself once again. “Mostly Avery and I have been exploring Mystic. She loves the beach, and the bookstore. Really anywhere she can just—well be her. If that makes sense?”

Charlie caught the sense of love and pride on Carolyn’s face when talking about her daughter. She couldn’t personally relate, but it was always nice to see a parent who loved their kid. “Avery, that’s a nice name. One of those old souls? It’s better she’s wise now, than waiting ‘til she’s almost thirty to work on it. Trust me,” she joked. “That sucks, the rides there are pretty fun. They don’t all have crazy rollercoasters though. I feel like your stomach can handle some of it. The hard part is having to pay an arm and a leg just to get in.” She let out a small laugh when Carolyn asked about “YOLO”. Right, she was talking to a mom. She should’ve known better. “YOLO, yeah. ‘You only live once’. Then you have ‘FOMO’, which is ‘fear of missing out’. A lot of acronyms to learn about. Then there’s new ones coming out these days that kids Avery’s age are making up, which even I don’t know, honestly.” 

She nodded at the question about her brother. “Yeah, he’s about five years older than me. We’re usually fine until we compete against each other. He was the high school quarterback of his class so you can imagine.” She rolled her eyes. “You have any siblings?” She felt some relief as Carolyn started to snip away at her hair. She was never letting her hair get this long ago.

“Oh definitely not,” she answered the question about her wife Sophie with a small chuckle. Carolyn wouldn’t understand because she didn’t know the full story, but Charlie was far from marriage material while on the West Coast. Despite technically being married. But that was a lot for someone she’d just met. “No, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers, pretty much. Our parents were all friends in high school, then came us. You know, one of those ‘being in love with your best friend’ stories you see all the time in movies.” The usual warm smile that followed when talking about Sophie grew on her face as she spoke.

“Bed by seven? Is that even humanly possible?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Is that what being a parent was all about? She couldn’t even fall asleep at a reasonable time. “Exploring huh, so you’re not from around here? The beach was always one of my favorite places around here. Great place for pictures. She likes books then? Never really been my thing, but being a bookworm’s cool.” 

-

“Looks simple enough,” Rob replied, keeping her distance as well as Charlie moved close enough to show her the tattoo. Still it was overwhelming, it was all too much and, for a moment, Rob had to remind herself not to speak her mind. Not to open up after her former friend made a cute little gibe to simply say; stop. We’re not friends. Instead, Rob’s expression was tight, features discernibly showing her displeasure concerning their current situation. Always crossing fucking boundaries, Rob couldn’t help but think as she bit down on her lip to keep the words of animosity from spilling over. Instead, Rob gestured to the inkbed in her personal station to the far left of the shop. “Get comfortable, Charlotte. I’ll be back in a second.” 

Rob quickly began her own process of sterilizing: washing her hands, then quickly drying them with a small towel, before covering them in rubber gloves. A minute was all she needed to try and get her mind right — she was going to tattoo this unoriginal piece of garbage on her old friend ( a fucking phoenix? excuse her while she gagged ) and that would be it. No extra commentary or conversation.

Fuck… if only it was that simple…

Charlie was not a basic tone of grey by any means of interpretation. Yet, like most striking visions, Rob learned she was just as unfortunately intangible as one. Hazing to the senses like smoke and as magnetic as an orbiting star; always on her way up an out into the next current before anyone else was ready. Floating just out of reach, as she pleased, by her own sovereign design. And that was what made Charlie different — identifiable and unforgettable no matter what the time or place. It took considerable effort to resort to stringently calling her, “Charlotte.” Articulated plain and quiet, on purpose. Rob knew better than to Charlie her. That was the point. Rob shouldn’t have known anything anymore. The knee-jerk recollection of specifics she shouldn’t have recalled about Charlie had no right to be lighting up her brain in the way it currently was, coupled with the a curiosity-laden undertow of wonder. 

To make matter worse Rob hated that her impulse, that old muscle, was to lightheartedly chide her old friend; tell her that was about the only observable fact in this situation, and that the real question was not her presence, but why Charlie was present. To mock half-heartedly, and then to reach out with undisguised tenderness – to wrap her arms around her, holding Charlie with every piece of her that allowed such brazen affection. The softness in Charlie was the thing she felt most immediately in her chest – especially when they were younger. Instead, Rob made her way back to her station wordlessly, mind struggling to silence the onslaught of assumptions, of obsolete emotions. Instead, Rob focused on the facts. Those were only memories, ingrained in the striations of muscle like the ability to surf or one’s writing preference. Charlie was here; she was just here. At the moment, it didn’t matter why. Fuck. She already knew why and still all Rob wanted was to avoid that query, avoid hearing the changed tone in her own voice when talking to her old friend – proof that the years that had separated them and forged them into different people. 

Rob opened a pack of new tattooing needles, placed a disposable container for the ink on the small metal table that was situated to their right, and began the process of cleaning the needle. All with the intense concentration of a woman who took her job very seriously. When she was done, she arrived at Charlie’s side, squatting on stool beside her; “How’s your pain tolerance?” she asked after a breathless pause, syllable dragging out in hesitation. It was a slow, trained response, even though Rob wanted nothing more than to turn Charlie away. Tell her to leave, get back in her fucking car, and drive as far away from Rob as possible. Instead, Rob smiled flatly, a perfunctory, professional look; without teeth. “Try to stay still. If it hurts, let me know and I’ll stop but whatever you do, do not flinch or move or else you will have permanent scribble for a tattoo,” she relayed, the words so easy and automatic and devoid of emotion that they felt scripted, pre-recorded. While Rob’s mind – and her brutal, fickle heart – did elaborate backflips, her instincts went to work. As if finally registering the reality of Charlie, she slipped easily into feigned nonchalance. An acquaintance meeting another acquaintance on the street.

Charlie had a natural talent for acting like things that did bother her, didn’t. As she was hit with the name “Charlotte”, this was one of those times where she could feel the sting, but wouldn’t give the satisfaction of showing its impact. Rob wasn’t cursing her out into oblivion, but the fact she threw her full name at her had that same effect. It was only further confirmed the brunette was furious at her. Teenage her, a more hot-headed and spiteful individual than the twenty-nine-year-old she was today, would have taken the petty route and would have thrown Rob’s full name right back at her. But in the decade she spend on the opposite end of the country, Charlie had drunk the West Coast kool-aid and adapted to the laid-back, careless culture of many free-spirited people who lived there. The exception to this of course had been the countless nights where she would get drunk or high, where her former, wilder self did come out, but at her most sober, Charlie wasn’t typically malicious towards anyone but herself.

Instead of responding, she gave a small nod and headed to the inkbed as she was instructed. Her plan of getting into the same room as Rob ended with walking through the door. She wasn’t sure exactly when to begin the apology, wanting to instead study first what she was going to be dealing with. She lay back against the chair, dark eyes trailing along the walls of the shop, at the various decorations that covered every inch of the room. Her eyes went to Rob when she returned. The question about her pain tolerance, while not Rob’s intention, came a bit humorously to Charlie. Rob didn’t know anything about Charlie’s decade-long journey, both the physical and emotional pain she put herself through for so long. It wasn’t exactly funny, but she couldn’t help but crack a small, amused smirk anyway. “Pretty up there,” she answered simply, eyes directed towards the ceiling. Charlie was no stranger to tattoos, though it had been a while since she got one so she was certain she would feel a sting at least. But she had adapted to all sorts of pain, so a tattoo would be nothing to her. As Rob gave her further instructions, she nodded. “I know the drill,” she said nonchalantly. This next part was going to be risky, trying to get into the thick of it when Rob had a needle in her hands. But Charlie knew the second the tattoo was done, her time was up. So she needed to make the most of it.

She didn’t flinch once she felt the needle, but her eyes did narrow slightly at the painful sensation. It wasn’t overwhelming, and soon enough she would grow used to it. She was silent for a few moments, debating what to say next. Her eyes went back to venturing around the shop, ears focused on the buzzing sound from the needle. The sound was somehow more soothing than the clutter of thoughts bouncing around her mind. The clock was ticking, so she would just come out and say something. Anything.

“I guess ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it,” she began, intending some of her usual dry humor. It was never a perfect place to start, but her apologies so far had never been perfect. Going nearly your entire life living unapologetically, no matter what stupid or shitty things you did again and again, made you shit at apologies, she discovered fairly recently. She brought her eyes up to Rob. “I just um... wanted to talk to you. Maybe a little too badly, by committing identity fraud and all.” Her therapist had talked to her about this whole “using humor as a coping mechanism” thing, saying it could be both a good thing and bad thing depending how she used it. She wasn’t too sure which side this was leaning toward so far. She turned a bit more serious. “I wanted to apologize. Not just by saying ‘I’m sorry’, obviously, because that doesn’t fix shit. But... I know how it probably looked when I left and... I just wanted to explain. Because I know before I left it was shitty of me to never respond to you. And it was shitty of me for leaving. And it was shitty of me for never reaching out when I did leave. Just shitty all around.”

–

“I was always boring, Charlie.” Sutton corrected with a laugh. Besides the lack of sleep, life hadn’t changed very much. When school started again, she wouldn’t go back to work just yet of course. That would be different, but she still saw all the same people - she still did all the same things. Now there was an added excitement of getting to watch Quinn experience all of it for the first time. There was nothing boring about it at all. The baby wiggled in her arms, letting out a small cry. Sutton brought a bottle to her lips to soothe her. Looking down at her little one, she smiled.

“You can babysit her next time I need a nap, okay?” Sutton teased. Having people genuinely want to help her was something that allowed this all to work so well. Taking another bit of her food, she let her eyes find Charlie’s. Ever since she had gotten back, they had somewhat been attached at the hip. “Now, what have you been up to?” She quirked a brow.

“I wouldn’t say boring, just too much of a goody two-shoes to have some real fun,” she teased. Even though Sutton hadn’t been anywhere near as wild in school as Charlie or some of her other friends, Charlie at least found it entertaining to attempt to convince Sutton to be otherwise. Her extreme boredom over Mystic in her adolescence helped developed a skill to find fun in pretty much anything. Her eyes turned to Quinn, smiling when Sutton gave her the bottle. “Thankfully, I’m going to teach little Quinnie here it’s okay to have a little bit of real fun. Responsible fun. Well, responsible-ish. Nothing she’d get arrested for.” She took a pause. “Maybe,” she added humorously. 

“Fine. Just so you know, I did finally watch a Youtube video of how to change diapers, so I’m prepared,” she chuckled. She took a long sip of her water, giving a small shrug at the question. “I’ve been up to... normal, every day things believe it or not.” She picked up another fry, but didn’t immediately eat it. “Well, kinda normal. It’s been great, no, fu--” She stopped herself, remember she was in front of a baby, Even though realistically, the baby had no clue what either of them were saying. “-- fudging... fantastic, to actually be married, you know? Therapy isn’t as fantastic, but the Doc’s kinda cool, so, that helps. And uh... still having to do my ‘I’m Sorry’ tour for some people around town, which isn’t fantastic at all. But overall... everything’s pretty okay.”

-

She grinned, though that same awe struck sentiment that had found her words, now rested within her features. Mystified by the notion of all the places the other had been. Carolyn, having never been out of Georgia until now, couldn’t fathom it. Though a part of her heart yearned for such travel—those adventures she could have. Could share with Avery. That little girl had big dreams and hopes, things she so dearly wished to be able to give that little girl. If it would be safe for them. If they wouldn’t get caught. She laughed a little at that, a well meaning and happy sound, “I know a little girl who would love to go Disneyland,” she offered, despite the sense of jest she had detected in Charlie’s words Carolyn spoke truthfully. An amused shake to her head following those words. “Though I don’t know how I would feel about all those crowds…though the rest of your travels sound—well perfect, really.”

The redhead’s smile remained as Charlie would agree with her. Echoing her previous statement in a way that pulled the warmth further into her features. “Oh it is—overpriced bean water,” she agreed wholeheartedly. Carolyn having avoided the chain every chance she could get.

Setting herself to work, Carolyn listened, collecting a few items—spray bottle, comb and her favourite pair of scissors. “With great power comes great responsibility,” she teased, coming back to stand at Charlie’s side. Eyeing those long layer for a moment more before picking up the spray bottle and dampening her hair. “So any plans for the rest of the day?”

Charlie looked up at Carolyn’s reflection in the mirror. mentioning what she assumed was her daughter. She could have been wrong, but the other woman gave her mom vibes. “You have a kid?” she asked curiously. “She would totally love it. If you take out the huge crowds, the rides are fun. They’re more for kids though, so I think I’m a little too old to fully appreciate everything.” She chuckled. She was a kid at heart, but not enough to share the same level of excitement as a small kid who went on a Peter Pan ride. “A lot of beautiful places along that coast. I haven’t really ventured much on this coast to compare, but I can definitely say the Pacific is the better ocean. Totally recommend having a ‘YOLO’ moment one day and just head over there to do a little adventure. It’s bucket list material.”

Charlie kept her hair still as Carolyn went to work. “Nothing too crazy busy today. I’m going bowling with my brother later tonight -- if you were planning to be anywhere near The Whirlpool later, I would stay away. Seriously. Competition gets ugly between the two of us. But if you were curious, I am the better bowler,” she said with a confident nod. “But after we hate each other for about two hours there, we’ll probably make up and go to Moonie’s. My wife works there, so we’ll probably team up and bother her together over some beers.” She smirked at the thought. “What about you, get into any crazy hairstylist antics when you’re not working? Find anything fun to do around here?”

-

April O’Neil. 

Rob had been staring at that very name all day; at first with genuine amusement, then slight perplexity, and finally with a sense of apathy that was bound to happen after becoming slightly bored. While it wasn’t the busiest in Sea, her appointments were far and not so few between — and naturally her curiosity was drowned out by her actual inclination to work. Before her two o’clock she had four clients ( opening was often designated to her since she rarely slept ), three of them wanted something on the smaller side. The first, an 8am session that was supposed to be composed of three hours, was cut short after the bleeding was too excessive — “Went out and threw back a couple of brewski’s last night, my bad” — so, after pushing the remainder up, she had about an hour to kill time. 

Rob offered her hand in back when called upon, then breezily shot the shit ( as they were given to doing ) until the front door chimed noisily. She looked at her watch. There was still about fifteen more minutes until her next appointment. Maybe the 2:00, said her coworker, and Rob nodded her head easily before stepping out of the room; trailing the familiar hallway, stock photos of various tattoos all over the walls. “One second,” she tossed, moving as quickly as her short legs could afford her. Then, as she rounded the bend — before she could assess, take in the figure before her — she was already delivering her perfunctory line: “Sorry about that. How may I help you?” It was after it had left her mouth that she realized the inanity of it. The first thing she properly registered — shamefully, a fact that would have reddened her if she was given to blushing — was her face, familiar as it was. Then the rest of her; tall in a way she’d once read as endearingly awkward in their teenage years, but which now seemed statuesque in adulthood. As if she’d fixed herself in marble with her absence. Her hair, was it shorter than before? Or longer? Rob couldn’t recall. Those eyes, which Rob had remembered used to be filled with both equal parts mischief and mirth, were different now.

Charlie was all there, though not precisely as Rob remembered. She wondered, in all the years that had passed, if there were any remnants of the Charlie she had known. The Charlie she’d adored. All at once, Rob felt the world go light, her feet dangerously — or so they seemed — hovering off the ground, body prickly with the tangible shock that came from seeing someone from another life. Someone she never expected to see again, who had brutally clipped Rob from her life with cruel coldness. With absolute absence. Gone without a word even after everything they promised each other. She needed a joint, a drink, something and quickly. It was an airless moment before Rob spoke again, unable to fix her face into a smile. It occurred to Rob the proper thing to do, the thing that would alleviate any confusion as to how she felt about Charlie’s arrival, would be to grin widely, clap her chummily on the back. Ask her plainly, with the tone reserved for strictly friends, how was she doing, buddy? The possibility of action was still working its way through Rob’s body, slowly saturating her limbs, as she stood entirely still before her old friend. Doing her best to fix her voice into indifference, utter neutrality, she said only one thing ( disliking how her tone softened, barely a whisper as if she were speaking to herself, though more expectant than anything. There was no denying it was Charlie ): “What the fuck..?” The question in it was unmistakable, and not exactly warm: What are you doing here?

Then it hit her as soon as the words left Charlie’s lips: April O-fucking-Neil.

Suddenly, Rob was aware of the blandness of the paled walls, their faded off white looking vaguely bodily, unappetizing. The floor was patched in mismatched linoleum tiles, slabs of comical kitsch beneath their feet. The daylight, beaming incessantly against the paned windows, played dirty, haloing Charlie in its rays. The sight of her made bright, almost intangible, recalled something Rob said to her, once. Rob purported it to be ironic, a faux-saccharine meant to burlesque the only way sappy, close friends – chosen family – spoke to one another. In truth, it was poignantly raw: you’re fucking sunshine. Something Charlie shared with Carolina, both of them breaching through her natural ability to create cloudy, rain filled skies. A foolish thought assaulted Rob: maybe her entire life had been dull since Charlie fled. Without the contrast of her there, Rob had no idea of her relatively-new existence’s lumen count. It was easy to pretend, given that she made sure there were no visible fragments of Charlie that remained in her life ( besides one stolen tee shirt ). Then Rob remembered that it was all in the past, a place that she chose not to live in, and it made it – inexplicably – easier. Easier to forget their once unself-conscious closeness, easy to erase all that’d transpired between them and the history that came with it.  

It took a clench of her jaw to bludgeon the modicum of pain that bloomed in her chest as a result of remembering. Rob – rendered emotionally barricaded, and isolated after the fire – could barely look Charlie in the eye without feeling the white hot anger that came with the feeling of being betrayed. Until now, Rob had gone out of her way to avoid Charlie with delicate precision – refused to even have Carolina get involved, let alone tell her what she felt. Her pains, her burdens, were hers to carry alone. Now that she was faced with this old, and very painful ghost, she didn’t know how to act.

What infuriated Rob more than anything, however, had been Charlie’s infiltration tactics. It was impressive. Fucking genius actually – especially since this was the one place where Rob couldn’t run away. 

Steeling herself, Rob finally broke their eye contact. Her tone was detached, completely professional, and a lot more convincing when she simply asked: “You already know what you want?”

As she placed her shades on top of her head, she gave her friend a quick scan. Physically, not much had changed about her. Charlie had actually forgot how short she was, a fact she used to tease her about quite often as kids. But it wasn’t just the height. It seemed... like everything, save of course the light wrinkles around her eyes that gave evidence that she had aged the past decade. The way Rob had carried herself, that same apathetic facial expression, her voice when she very amusingly responded with “what the fuck” -- it all unlocked memories that had been tucked deeply in the back of Charlie’s brain. All the drinking and drugs she’d done on the West Coast could have easily wiped most of her memory permanently. But coming back to town had slowly recovered what she tried so hard to repress. And Rob physically in her presence started to bring a lot back to the forefront of her mind.

Physically, Rob was the same. But what about everything else, she wondered? A lot could change in ten years. Charlie knew that all too well.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed slightly, smiling through her eyes rather than her lips. Even though she was happier than anything to finally see Rob, she was also aware it wasn’t exactly “safe” to act all friendly again like nothing happened. Carolina had been easy to reconnect with, because Carolina was the complete opposite of Rob. If Rob was still relatively the same as she was ten years ago... Charlie would understand her hostility if she chose to show it within the next few minutes. She had let Rob down. She could easily acknowledge that, even if Rob hadn’t yet told her to her face.

She pulled out her phone, slowly stepping towards Rob. Rob’s attempt at sounding professional had been expected. She was also expecting that tone to shift to venomous very soon. She stopped a reasonable distance away from Rob, only close enough to be able to show her phone screen to her. It was a picture of a phoenix, the meaning behind it a little cheesy, but it would be something appropriate to mark this new part of her life. “I was hoping for something like this. Just here instead --” she pointed at the upper portion of her inner left arm. Taking a moment to look at Rob, she couldn’t resist a quip. “Although if you just wanted give me permanent scribbles all over my arm instead, I’d understand.”

- 

Carolyn smiled at the other’s laugh, completely agreeing with her previous statement. The sun was far better than the cold and the wet. Yet, she wished she could understand the West Coast frame of mind, or at least have experienced it, for it seemed that 2020 had been a record rain fall year for Georgia. Something she kept closely to herself, for she didn’t know what she should share—didn’t know who could be listening. Not many knew where she had come from, and for Avery’s sake, she chose to keep it that way. “The West Coast, of now I’m envious. Whereabouts did you get too, while over there?” she asked, keeping the conversation strictly upon Charlie. Happy to do so, as it fed into the ease the redhead seemed to carry then. Her ability to gab one she had inherited from her mother. “You and me are like this,” she indicated between them—hand gesturing as if to say the pair were of the same mind. “All the extras just ruin it. Take it away from what it is, and what it’s supposed to be,” she would say in agreement. Nodding slightly as Charlie went on. “I suppose I’m a bit of a snob then, sure coffee is coffee, but some places—well it’s just bean water…” she teased. “Oh it has to be both,” she offered then, thinking fondly of the Hideout—of Layla.

She let out a little laugh at that, most didn’t take her up on her offer to call her anything, and so it always made her happy—amused—when someone would. “Pleasure is all mine,” she’d say, hands moving the strands of Charlie’s hair as she would speak. Watching and taking note of the length preferred—mind making a plan on how to accomplish that. “Take off an inch, adds some layers so that it falls nice—wash and wear?”

Charlie had grown accustomed to non-West Coaster responding with awe or curiosity whenever she mentioned having lived there. She still held a soft spot for the West Coast, and when dealing with the less enjoyable weather of the East Coast, she did miss it at times, but perhaps it was living there for ten years that desensitized the astonishment for her. After seeing all she could see, and meeting all sorts of people -- a lot of them extremely artificial and only barely representative of actual human beings -- she didn’t mind if she never lived there again. But, she could understand others’ curiosity about it -- she had been the same, before she moved there. “Oh, I think a better question would be where didn’t I go,” she chuckled. “I pretty much went everywhere up and down there. San Diego, San Francisco, Vegas, Seattle... there’s a lot to see, that’s for sure. But you really only want to go to Disneyland.” She had made the last remark as a joke, knowing Disneyland hadn’t even reached her personal list of top ten places she’d been to.

She nodded with delight, always happy to meet someone who enjoyed black coffee like she did. And who understood her reasonings. “A woman after my own heart,” she said with a dramatic sigh, then a laugh at the mention of bean water. “Starbucks. Starbucks is bean water,” she pointed out, scrunching her nose with disgust. “There’s local places obviously where they could have bean water but... Starbucks is basically a coffee chain for bean water.”

She gave a small shrug at Carolyn’s suggestion. “You’re the expert. My hair’s at your mercy. It sounds good to me though. If you cut too much, hair grows back.” After a pause, she added on jokingly. “But I also wouldn’t be able post anything on Instagram until it grows back, so proceed at your own risk. No pressure.”

—-

         ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔! I’m glad someone agrees. ❞ Feeling validated, Carolina wandered over to Charlie’s side, attempting to fake an interest in a genre that had never successfully held any traction with her. Was Paramore considered classic rock? Carolina wasn’t sure, but she could tell you the exact moment seeing Hayley William’s orange-ass hair had, as the straights might say, “turned her gay”. 

❝ Oh, you’re so right. How could I forget Madonna? I’m pretty sure the gays are going to revoke my lesbian card now. ❞ She’d been raised Catholic, and idols of the Virgin Mary hung heavy on the walls of her childhood home –– but Madonna had very much ruined that imagery for her. Carolina could scarcely hear the word virgin without thinking of the 80s and pure, polyester white. ❝ We should –– ❞ She forgot in that second, that we no longer included Rob. ❝ ––dress up as Madonnas of the past. I call Material Girl! Dibs! Dibs! ❞

Charlie let out a small laugh when Carolina said the gays would revoke her lesbian card. “I won’t rat you out. But next time, I may not be around to save you,” she teased. She lifted up a Jefferson Airplane album. She was pretty sure she didn’t have this one? She squinted her eyes as she contemplated taking it. She was temporarily distracted by Carolina’s suggestion that they should dress up as different Madonnas. “You’re totally a Material Girl Madonna. But are you going to inhale helium the entire time for the authenticity? She sang in a completely different octave back then.” The idea of a chipmunk-sounding Carolina was hilarious. A brief thought flashed through her mind that this would have been fun to include Rob in. She quickly blocked that thought out with her decision that she would indeed take this album. “I kinda wanna be Me Against the Music Madonna. She was hot as fuck in that white suit. Maybe I can convince Soph to dress as Britney,” she laughed. 

For the most part, Charlie had been staying on the path of “getting her shit together”. She was going to therapy like she was supposed to. She was maintaining and strengthening her relationships with her friends and family. She was trying to mend relationships with friends long lost that she hadn’t been quite successfully in mending like the others. In just a matter of months, Charlie was, while at times struggling to do so, growing up. For the most part.

But she was also still Charlie Scott, and at no point in her life had she ever half-assed anything. Well, except for her school work. But when it came to people she cared about, she always went the extra mile. Even if it sometimes did more damage than intended. At the top of her current list of individuals to make amends with was, of course, Rob. Rob who, seemed to have amazing luck in never being in the same place as Charlie. It didn’t take long for Charlie to conclude that her old friend was avoiding her -- it was nearly impossible in the months Charlie had been here that the two hadn’t yet ran into each other, and plus there were too many mutual connections they shared for the other woman to not know she was back in town. 

Charlie had been too preoccupied with her family, Sophie, and her personal mental health struggles to go in-depth into fixing that situation at the time, but now that there was beginning to be some semblance of stability in her life, she was going full force into cleaning up the rest of the mess she’d left behind a decade prior. And attempting to make amends with one-third of the trio of young gay delinquents that made her younger years a way more fun time than it would have been otherwise, someone who had once been like a sister to her, was now a task that had her full and undivided attention.

Her current plan may have been looked on as a bit “extra” to others, but in Charlie’s mind it was necessary. And besides, Charlie had been meaning to get a new tattoo for a while anyway. What better way to force herself into the same place as Rob than to going to the very place she worked? Where she couldn’t run away? Maybe risk getting a penis tatted onto her arm if Rob was that pissed at her? So maybe this wasn’t her smartest plan... but it was plan. And all she needed was a few minutes, just to speak to Rob and explain herself. But just in case... she may have used a fake name when making the appointment and requesting Rob. Better to be safe than sorry.

She walked into the shop, uncharacteristically on time for her appointment, and removed her aviators as her brown eyes landed on Rob several feet away. She felt that familiar ache of seeing someone from her past, the flashes of all the fun and sometimes idiotic shenanigans they had gotten into as kids. The deeper conversations they had gotten into, about the darker side of Rob’s life where Charlie had always offered an ear and support whenever Rob needed it. The deep sisterly love and trust they had formed... which Charlie had single-handedly shattered, like she had with everyone else. She wasn’t sure if she could put the pieces back together. But she had to try.

Despite the dread she’d felt up until this point, she didn’t let that be reflected on the outside as she stood by the door in her usual, confident posture as if she wasn’t making an extremely dumb and risky move right now. “Hey,” she greeted. “I’m the two o’clock. April O’Neil.” The name choice was her decision to be cheeky. A hope to at least chip some ice if she couldn’t fully break it. She remembered how much Rob loved Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.