Run-On

Chapter 7, The One With The Song

What a day, what an age, what an hour, Meredith sings daily. We're standing back to back in the counters in front of the door to our humble little workplace, and today it is far from busy. My day off served me well; I was able to get some work done at the house, cleaning and whatnot, studying for who knows what. She wasn't there. She's in school all the time now; nursing school does that to a person, I guess. And I've gotten to see her every once in a great while, but I don't see her anymore. I miss her when she's standing next to me. I do not think this is how it was supposed to be. I contemplate Us daily, Us is a routine. We are a regular part of the day now. We just happen. It was not always like this. We used to be explosive, a magical kind of thrill that could only incite riots at its quiet; and now we are waiting for something, anything. It was not always like this. What a day, what an age, what an hour.

That's what Meredith sings as I tell her this; she sings this whenever something marvelous, terrible, frustrating, or awe-inspiring happens. She says it is her reminder that everything passes and we are living a strangely magnificent life. I don't understand; it doesn't make sense to me, but I am sure I don't make sense to her but she listens to me anyway, so I just nod my head. Today is Christmas Eve. No one is here. They are all at their families' houses, they're visiting relatives or watching their kids' faces light up at the new bike in the garage or the blanket Mom just crocheted or the wonderful meal on the table. Then there are people like me and Meredith, who could go for a glass of wine right now but just want to be with someone so the constant reminder of 'I'm alone' isn't staring at us over every wall. I guess Jonathan went to spend the day with Renee, Reggie went home (big momma's boy) and Trevor is Jewish. He's not really, that's just what he tells people so he can have an excuse to not do anything for any holidays pretty much ever. And if you ask him about Hanukkah, he's got some tragic tale to tell you about why he's skipping it this year. He just doesn't like big celebrations.

She is at school. I am not surprised, and I am not disappointed. I don't care what she does today. I didn't have my hopes on meeting her family today or anything.

"How's your project coming along?" Meredith suddenly interrupts the not-so-silent silence. I am a bit shaken by the question when it occurs to me I didn't tell her. My little episode of euphoria comes back and I can feel my smile spreading to my eyes.

"I got invited to New York to meet with a publisher about it, so it's going pretty well," I say, a rising excitement in my throat making it difficult to say without bursting into laughter, or tears, or some other kind of fit of thrill.

"What?!" She shrieks, covering the burst of emotion for me. I grin even wider if possible and she jumps up and down, covering her mouth with her hands.

"This is the best day ever!!!" She screams, jumping on top of me practically. I wrap one arm around her, regaining my balance, laughing as she puts her feet back on the ground and runs her hands through her hair.

"When are you going? Who are you meeting with? Are you excited? Nervous? Tell me everything!" She squeals, hiding her mouth behind her hands. She always does that when she's grinning uncontrollably, which although not common, it's a trait common enough that all of her coworkers make jokes about it.

I grin and shake my head, choosing not to answer. She is one of the greatest friends on the planet. I can only hope to be as solid as her ever. There is a moment of silence before she speaks again.

"Can I ask you something kinda personal?" She nearly whispers.

"Uh, go for it?" I ask, hoping she doesn't detect the hesitancy in my voice. I do not like personal questions. Personal questions are invading and stressful.

"What's it about?" She says through biting her cheek. The tension in my chest doesn't lift, but it morphs. No one has asked me that yet. That is indeed a personal question, but something I'm willing to answer for her.