What Might've Been (Cricky)

A Very Red Afternoon

I'd finally decided to make an effort to put my clothes in a closet. Unfortunately, I realized that I didn't have any hangers. Not wanting to go out without at least a little makeup on, I wandered off to the bathroom to find eyeliner. Of course, a little eyeliner turned into a lot of eyeshadow too. 

I'd gotten sidetracked at the store, and ended up buying myself a coffee machine as well. It was hard to carry the large box and my hangers up the stairs to my floor. "Do you need help?" Someone asked from behind me.

"Yeah, that would be great," I said, turning around slowly. The person who was standing behind me was Chris himself. "What are you doing here?" He grabbed one end of the box with one of his hands and we started up the stairs again. 

"It was a group decision that the band should give you a housewarming gift."

"What's my gift?" I asked, looking around for it. I realized why he didn't grab the box with both hands. In his other hand was a large bottle. 

"I didn't know what you needed, so I just bought a bottle of wine."

"You can't go wrong with the most culturally rich form of alcohol," I noted. When we got to my apartment, which was only one flight of stairs higher than where I'd met up with Chris, the two of us carefully put the box down. Following this, I got my keys. I opened the door with my foot and we both went inside, me holding the box, and Chris the wine. He put the wine on the counter, and I put the box on the floor. I rummaged through a junk drawer to find a pair of scissors to cut the box open. I'd put the hangers on top of the box, and I took them off while I cut the box. 

"It's not a bad place," he told me, looking around my apartment. "It actually looks pretty comfortable."

"It'll probably look better when I unpack things." I gestured to the many other boxes while I took the coffee machine out of its box.

"Do you need help with that?" He asked. "I'd be happy to put some dishes away for you if it'll help at all."

"I guess if you're willing to, you can help." I handed him the scissors. "I don't care where you put them. Just try to keep what's in each of the boxes together. There aren't that many dishes."

"Got it." He cut the box with plates and bowls open, taking out a few of my plates and putting them on the laminate countertop. After opening one of the cabinets, he put them on the lowest shelf. It was comical how tall he looked in my kitchen. 

I put the coffee machine on the countertop near the refrigerator, plugging it into the wall. Chris looked at my refrigerator. "Nice magnets," He said, noting the patterned magnets that covered the door. 

"Oh, thanks. They didn't cost much, but they look cool."  I opened a box with glasses inside of it. "Did you want to taste this wine?" I asked. 

"It'd be rude not to," He concluded. I chuckled as I looked through my junk drawer for a bottle opener. Chris watched carefully as I pulled the cork out of the bottle, and he found two wine glasses in the box I opened. After he'd put them on the counter, I filled both glasses almost halfway. 

"Is that too much?" I felt guilty immediately. I usually drank this much, but I didn't ask him to tell me when to stop pouring. 

"No, it's fine. I usually drink about this much at this time of day." He eyed the green letters on my oven clock. He swirled the wine around his glass for a second before drinking a small sip of it. I copied him, not really knowing what to do. Personally, I thought the wine tasted awful. "You don't like it, do you?" Chris chuckled. 

I shook my head. "I usually like wine. I just don't like this one." I looked at the bottle. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. You probably went out of your way-"

"Don't worry about what I've done." He put up a hand. "It's not that big of a deal, really. But if you don't like it, I can take it home with me, right? It's Ryan's favorite wine."

"Oh, sure. Knock yourself out." I recorked the bottle and handed it to Chris. "Thank you for coming."

"I thought I was helping put dishes away?" He recalled. 

"I can do the rest myself."  I gestured to the two boxes left. "There aren't that many more to do."

"You're too short to reach any of those shelves." He gestured to the few cabinets that I had. 

"I'm not that short," I retorted. "You're just really tall."

He smiled slightly. "If you don't really want me to help you, I can leave. I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" I'd written a few parts that I wanted to go over for the new record. 

"Yeah, tomorrow." He got a faraway look in his eyes. "I'll see you then." He left my apartment with that foul-tasting wine in his hands. I locked the door behind him, looking around once more. I guess what we'd started had to be finished now. 

I took the two glasses that we'd drank from, both still having wine in them, and dumped them into the sink. The red liquid swirled down the drain gracefully at first, but then sped up and disappeared. Leaving both glasses in the sink for later, I got back to work on the rest of my cups. They fit on the bottom shelf of the cabinet next to the one that Chris had put the plates in. In the next box was cookware, encompassing pots and pans. I scattered those across several different cabinets, trying to force them into the small places that they weren't really made for. Once they were all away, I took the boxes I'd opened and discarded them into a recycling pile near my front door.