FRIENDS ➳ jean kirstein

009. THE BEATLES

Charlie - November 12, 2020
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If one more unexpected guest showed up in Charlie's house, she was sure she was going to lose it. The last thing she thought she would find when she returned home from school on Thursday afternoon was a strange man standing in her kitchen, laughing over glasses of wine with her mother.

Charlie froze in the doorway, arching a scrutinising eyebrow as she looked between Anya, who was twirling her blonde hair around her finger like an idiotic middle school girl, and the thin man with the slicked back greying hair, hooked nose and entire family of wrinkles on his forehead. He had the sort of pompous tilt to his square chin that made Charlie want to punch a guy right in the jaw. She didn't punch him, though. Because that would be assault. And assault is bad.

"Don't mind me," Charlie said, squeezing past her mother and opening the refrigerator door. She peered inside, searching for something appetising. When she found nothing, she simply took the whole plastic jug of milk, which earned her a shrewd look from the dude with the square chin.

Rolling her eyes, Charlie took a swig of the milk and said, "You don't get to come into my house and judge my nutritional preferences, alright buddy?"

If looks could kill, Charlie knew very well that the burning glare her mom sent her way would have certainly put her six feet under in an instant. Dull green eyes widening indignantly, the man turned sharply to Anya, like he was expecting her to lecture her daughter for greeting him so rudely. Shockingly enough, Charlie's mom did not lecture her, which was certainly odd because she always seemed to have one reason or another to chastise her daughter. And if she couldn't find a reason, she would simply make one up.

"Charlene, this is Paul," Anya smiled sweetly at the man, then she turned to Charlie once more, and her face contorted into something that was dangerously close to a scowl. Charlie could see the warning flaring in her eyes. "Paul, this is my daughter, Charlene."

She grimaced at the word daughter, like it caused her physical pain to admit that she had pushed Charlie out of her eighteen years ago.

"Oh yeah," Charlie hummed, scrunching up her face in distaste as she leaned over the kitchen countertop. "You definitely look like a Paul."

"Charlene," Anya hissed, all the while Charlie bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from cackling at Paul's scandalised facial expression. Evidently, her mom had not warned him about her insolent daughter—another shocker, considering Anya loved to complain about Charlie any chance she got.

Charlie gulped down another mouthful of milk. "Charlie," she corrected.

Paul's nose turned upwards in a sneer. "Charlie is a boy's name."

"Is Ringo around?" Charlie asked, ignoring his jab at her name, cocking her head to the side. "John? What about the other one? Fuck me, I can never remeber his name—"

"Watch your language!" Anya snapped, nostrils flaring with anger.

"My sincerest apologies," Charlie said, sinking halfway into a mock bow. She knew she wasn't even being particularly funny, but she would have danced naked on the countertop just to see the disgusted expression on Paul's imperious face grow. "So, what are you guys, anyways? Coworkers? Fuck buddies? Buddy buddies?"

She watched, chest swelling with self-satisfaction, as Paul opened his thin mouth furiously to respond, and Anya's hand flew to his shoulder, squeezing it apologetically.

"Paul is my partner," Charlie's mom said, her voice seething with unfiltered malice. "Now that you know that, I trust you'll treat him with more respect."