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“That sounds amazing.” Pictures of crystal-clear beaches floated through her mind like the filaments of a dandelion in a warm summer breeze. “When was the last time you saw her?”
As soon as Julia asked the question, she wished she didn’t. Erin’s eyes immediately dimmed as she looked down at the noodles dangling from her fork.
“Before I started this position,” she sighed, a slight melancholy undertone in her voice. “I’m not really good at balancing life.”
“Amen to that.” Julia raised her glass and then Erin broke into a little chuckle. “At least you’ll see her soon.”
“That’s true,” Erin said, nodding as she took another sip. There was a small moment of stillness and then she asked, “Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”
“Not at all,” Julia said, pointing in the direction. “It’s down the hall on the left.”
With a small smile, Erin disappeared down the hallway, her presence still felt between walls. Julia turned towards the crackling fireplace and rested her head back on the couch cushions behind her.
She stretched her legs out along the rug–her toes inches away from the blowing heat–as she picked up her glass again. She finished what was left in her cup and then looked up at the fan high above her, the black blades slowly twirling. That simple motion sent waves of peace throughout her, sailing on soothing currents.
After sitting in that contentment for a moment, she turned her head to see the bottle of wine sitting on the counter, calling her name. She wasn’t sure why being around Erin made her glass empty so fast. Did she sink so deep into the taste because it calmed her? Or was it because, drink by drink, she shed layers of armor off–the only antidote for an introvert?
She stood and refilled both of their glasses and then caught her sound system out of the corner of her eye. As the alcohol fluttered in her stomach–lightening every limb and synapse awareness–she turned it on. A soulful Tracy Chapman’s rasp filled the air and Julia couldn’t help but bob her head as she swayed with the guitar.
“Give me one reason to stay here,” Julia sang, her voice almost an inaudible noise at first, “and I’ll turn right back around.”
Her head bounced from one side to the other as she spun in the kitchen–her socks as graceful as ice skates on the white tile. The wine in her full glass mimicked her movements–one starting where the other ended–it was just her in that empty space.
“Give me one reason to stay here, and I’ll turn right back around.”
Julia didn’t immediately see Erin leaning against the corner of the hallway. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Small wisps of coffee brown hair framed her face–her cheeks matching the rosiness of her lips–and she had the biggest smile scrolled effortlessly across her lips.
“Oh!” Julia jumped, forgetting that for once she wasn’t alone in the darkness. She pulled an embarrassed hand to her face as if it would wash away the self-consciousness. “I’m sorry.”
Erin just shook her head, those perfect curls bouncing behind her with every movement. That smile never left her face. Julia was kissed by the sun, as if her skin had never truly felt the warmth of those inexplicable rays until those green eyes found her.
“Said I don’t want to leave you lonely,” Erin sang, making her way to the kitchen where Julia stood, each hip mimicking the beat from the drums, “you got to make me change my mind.”
She picked up the glass Julia just poured for her and brought it up to those pink lips. She took a few sips before she twirled in a circle, the glass high above her head as that silky voice filled every available space in the room. Julia’s lips parted as her face split in half.
Erin stretched out and took the hand that Julia still had pressed to her face. She twirled her around, almost spilling their wine, and they both laughed. Hands held waists and fingers as they found their rhythm. They bounced to the rest of the song, taking turns singing the lyrics and draining their glasses as they floated through the kitchen like autumn leaves drifting in the wind.
When the song ended and At Last by Etta James began playing, they both stood still as the rise and fall of their chests sent particles vibrating between them. Julia gripped the edge of the countertop, delicately setting her glass down.
“I haven’t danced in the kitchen in a very long time.” Julia grinned at Erin, who was now leaning against the island.
She had to forcefully pull her eyes away from Erin. She made Julia speechless–a woman with years of education and experience under her belt, an avid reading collection bordering walls–frozen in time without a single word on her tongue.
Erin’s hair was in a tousled mess, sticking slightly to her forehead. Her shirt was untucked from the many times she turned and twisted, raising her hands above her head. Those emerald eyes glistened with a hazy sheen–the alcohol creeping up into her movements. Erin turned towards the empty bottle of wine and shook the droplets in the bottom.
“There’s more in the cooler,” Julia said through a smile, tipping the last of what was left in her glass into her mouth. The coolness was refreshing compared to the flush in her face.
“Would you like another glass?” Erin asked, twisting another cork out of a new bottle. “It is a school night,” she joked.
Julia looked at the clock on the wall, bronze scrollwork twisting around it like feeble branches in the night. Time didn’t matter, not tonight.
“You know what? Yes, I do.”
Erin poured them more, and they made their way back to the living room. They collapsed onto the couch, their shoulders overlapping, but neither of them moved away from their sandwiched position.
“I really like what you’ve done with the place,” Erin said eventually, pointing to the walls with her already half-drunk glass.
Julia turned towards the blank walls and the odd empty spaces on shelves. How could she have forgotten? How could the emptiness become a welcome home mat; there so consistently that you never even notice when a neighborhood kid steals it? She suddenly felt self-conscious, like her entire mind was out on display in a bougie museum for criticism.
