NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY | updates every monday

46: string of hearts

            I pace the hall, chewing the inside of my cheek. Every time there's a sound outside, I peek out through the half-moon window on the door and each time, it's nowt but a neighbour arriving home from work or—in one case, the women who live three doors down, heaving a Christmas tree down the street that they might've either stolen or chopped down from Alexandra Park because it weren't netted.

When the current footsteps prove to be someone walking their dog, I resume my pacing.

This is the first time Joe is coming over and I've cleaned the air vents and wiped the dust from the skirting board. After I pulled the pandebono from the oven a few minutes ago, I've had nowt else to silence my thoughts with.

What if she's one of those people who thinks she'll get shot the second she steps within Moss Side limits? Or what if she sees the mural on the street corner and reckons that's "ghetto", unlike the murals in the Northern Quarter which are cool? Not that that would make sense considering she knows I live here and insisted on coming even though I told her fifty times I don't mind going to hers, but when've my thoughts ever made sense–?

The bell rings.

I wipe my palms on my corduroy trousers, do my best not to appear frazzled, and open the door. The sight of Joe has me smiling in an instant, the string of hearts tickling my chest, and I'm glad she hugs me so I have a few seconds to compose myself.

The way she takes me in knocks my attempted scaffolding right down. I'm surprised I don't turn to goo on the spot.

'You look nice.' She says this as though I don't wear these trousers to every occasion more festive than going to work because they're the only nice pair of trousers I own. She reaches a hand to feel the granny square waistcoat I'm wearing over my usual cream turtleneck. 'This is gorgeous. Is it new?'

'I got it from a charity shop for a tenner!'

My excitement tapers into a furrowed brow. I dunno why I always tell people that. Since I were a kid, every time I found some proper bargain I'd think "no one would guess I got this from a charity shop" and proceed to tell everyone that I got it from a charity shop.

But this is crocheted so someone had to make it by hand. For a tenner. C'mon! That's a proper bargain. Caleb didn't even have to strong-arm me into buying it.

I also bought a ceramic dish for the toilet where she can put her eyelashes and jewellery when she stays over. Not that I'll tell her that's why I bought it cause that would be weirdly domestic and non-casual.

Joe slides off her jacket, revealing an emerald green outfit, her chest flattened with a binder under her top. She's added a brown cardigan for warmth. Good that she thought to do that; my house definitely don't have underfloor heating. Her eyeliner, as usual, is engineered for her outfit and blends into a smoky eye while her hair is styled in elegant fingerwaves.

She still hasn't put her white topaz necklace back on.

'You're stunning,' I say as I hang up her coat. 'I love this shade of green on you.'

Joe smiles in that way where she tilts her head and shows all her teeth. I wish I had a photographic memory so I could keep all her smiles in a mental album.

I jolt when I realise I've spent several seconds staring at her. 'Right, come in. I'm sorry if it's a bit messy.'

I guide Joe through the open kitchen door though she halts at the threshold with a cautious look at the table. Is she surprised it's so small? I only own two chairs. There's space for a bigger table, this is just the one I found at a garage sale when I got this place.