Joel has been in love with Audrey for the entire two years that he's known her, but she's been in a relationship with his best friend for just as long.
Until now.
When Joel stops by her apartment for a friendly check-up, Audrey invites him in for a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I open the door and there is Joel. I catch him as he spins around to face me.
"Hey, Audrey," he says with his usual nonchalance.
"Hey," I answer cautiously, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the doorknob, then scout the hallway. Has Joel come alone?
"Oh, no, just me," he assures me as if he has read my mind. "I, uh, heard. And thought I'd stop by to see you. I mean, to see how you're doing."
I take a shallow breath. "Oh." That's thoughtful of him. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. "I've been packing up some stuff. Oscar's picking up a box this weekend when I'm at that company retreat. Better that we not run into each other for a while."
He sends me a lopsided grin that isn't sure whether it wants to be casual or serious. The whole scene is kind of awkward, to be honest. Seeing Joel this soon, not knowing whose side he is on, if any. And he isn't helping the awkwardness either, standing there, looking sharp in his crisp white button-down and suit jacket draped across his arm, and just scratching the side of his neck with the other hand.
"Um... do you think I could come in for a cup of coffee?" he asks and doesn't look like he expects me to actually offer.
I hesitate for only a second. "Sure, that'd be nice," I agree and am rewarded with the beaming smile that I have gotten used to seeing over the past two years. It occurs to me then that I would miss it.
I step aside to let him in. He's seen my small studio apartment dozens of times when he would come over for dinner or board game nights or birthday parties when Oscar and I were still together. He's seen it in good shape and bad shape, and even though right now it isn't in a bad shape at all, I haphazardly pull the comforter over the bed and arrange the throw pillows on top of it, then push the open cardboard box of Oscar's stuff into the far corner with my foot, all while Joel is taking off his dress shoes by the door. It's a habit he formed after learning it from his Japanese roommate in college, and it now leaves him in his thin black socks, but I have come to know he doesn't mind.
"Oh, please, don't bother for me," he intervenes when he looks up to see me whirling around the 325 square feet that are my bedroom, living room, study, dining room, and kitchen.
As a final act before I follow his request, I pick up the book I have left on the solid wooden dining table, push the bookmark in the right spot, and fling it onto my bed. Then I wrap my oversized cream knit cardigan tighter around me and cross the room to the small kitchenette on the wall beside the front door. He sits down onto the bench at the table.
Back when I bought the set second-hand off the classified ads, I thought it was a nifty idea to not get chairs but two benches for the table. I regret that decision now. The flexibility of individual seating does gain on the option to squeeze more people around the table, especially now that I am a "real adult" and the nights when I have more than four or five people over are virtually nonexistent anymore.
