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“It was past due,” sighed Julia, taking a gulp much too big of the dry wine.
“I like it,” Erin said quietly. “It gives it character.”
“What?” She chuckled as she turned to face Erin. “The faded paint on the walls?”
“Absolutely, very chic,” she said in an exaggerated tone, her hands a flourish in the air.
They both laughed for a moment–their faces just inches apart and her breath sweetly caressing Julia’s face–both falling into their drinks when the silence dragged too long.
“It’s a good thing,” Erin said finally.
“It is,” Julia agreed, but she let out a deep breath with the last word.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Erin and see if she noticed. She wanted to say something about Marin–she wanted to say something about how she just appeared earlier, but saying that to Erin? It felt wrong, and she couldn’t explain why.
“We didn’t get one thing done tonight,” Erin said with a grin, pointing to the mess of paperwork peeking from their bags. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I never had any intentions of doing any work,” she whispered into Julia’s hair.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Julia whispered back, “neither did I.”
Julia looked over and met Erin’s eyes. She still sunk into the back of the cushions, one leg tucked beneath the other. She looked so casual, so at home as if this was just what they did on late nights: eat Chinese on the floor of her living room while 80s and 90s music hummed behind them, the light of the fireplace sending hues of warmth along their skin.
“Thank you for this,” Julia said.
“For what?”
“For coming over, for all the help, all the time.”
“Anytime.” She raised her glass and they clinked them together once more.
They stayed on that couch for another hour before either made a move to end the night. They finished the last bottle of wine over reminiscent family memories, simple conversation. Erin talked about her family in Spain and how only her grandparents still live there. She showed Julia pictures of her niece and nephew, both with that same unruly, curly brown hair and freckles scattering their noses.
They told secrets that hadn’t left their lips in years. Julia talked about what made her become a teacher in the first place. About how when she was little–and if we’re being honest, even now–her mother was focused on the appearance of life, instead of enjoying it. She was too busy making Julia fit into the picture of what a little girl should be and aspire to, rather than take the time to actually see all the wonder hidden beneath pink ruffles and black tap shoes.
One teacher showed up to every spelling bee, every concert, and made sure that not one birthday passed without giving Julia a cupcake with rainbow frosting with a single candle on top. She was there for her when no one else was, and now Julia makes sure every child in her school has an adult like that.
“I should get going,” Erin grunted, checking her watch reluctantly. She rubbed her tired eyes and sat her empty glass down on the coffee table.
“You can’t drive,” Julia said, taking the last sip of her own. “My head is spinning, so I can only imagine what yours is like.”
“Are you insinuating I’m a lightweight, Julia Jenner?”
“No, Erin Calanis,” she chuckled, “but I have at least twenty pounds on you.”
“That’s offensive.”
“That’s a fact.”
“I’m going to see if there are any taxis available at this hour.”
Erin attempted to stand. Her wrinkled forehead hinted that she thought she could make it to the entryway. She stumbled on the first step, her heel catching the bottom of the couch, sending her tumbling backwards into Julia.
They both laughed as their bodies collided, the dry wine on the tips of their tongues. Julia brushed Erin’s hair out of her face, her hand resting on her warm cheek.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Julia giggled. “You can’t even stand!”
