Fiona
Midweek, Charlie declared we were meeting at Murray’s Pub for lunch. I was surprised at how easily she returned to the bar, considering what had happened there. The more I learned about Charlie, though, the stronger I realized she was. She was the first person to address and confront her fears head-on. We’d gotten to know each other in the past month and a half, and the more I discovered about her, the more impressed I was.
Early on, it became clear to me that she didn’t realize how smart she was or how much potential she had. I knew I was not exactly the expert on friendships, but I definitely felt like there was a bigger reason Charlie and I had met. We were opposite in so many ways, but simultaneously had so many similar fears and concerns.
I had never realized how nice it could be to have a friend, to share all the mundane thoughts throughout the day and have someone to compare notes with. Before Charlie, I didn’t realize how much time I spent in my head, either completely avoiding something or, alternately, obsessively focusing on it.
Suddenly, I could talk to Charlie about things, get her feedback, and escape the toxicity of my own thoughts. It was corny, but I thought we were both learning and growing because of each other, and I couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have her in my life.
We had met for lunch a few times, but this was the first time she suggested going back to Murray’s. Charlie was both impatient and short-tempered. I guessed I should have expected she would want to confront the fear right away. She was still angry at herself for that night; I could tell by the way she spoke about it.
So, there I sat, in the familiar old booth, waiting for her to come in. Once again, I couldn’t help but appreciate how much nicer the place was during the day. It was far less crowded, music was muted, and it was early enough in the day that things weren’t too sticky… yet. I caught a glimpse of blonde hair then Charlie waltzed in, already launching into conversation before she even sat down.
“Ugh, sorry I’m late. Bash was up my ass about the inventory, even though I went over it four times already,” she stated as she shed her jacket and hat before sliding into the booth seat across from me. “I’m starving. Do I want the burger or the club sandwich?” she asked me. I couldn’t help but smile.
Charlie could put food away like a competitive eater. Considering her tall and slim frame, it was mind-boggling. I had no idea where it went. She was in skinny jeans, heavy boots, and flannel, but still looked model-ready. I could imagine her in a commercial, riding a horse on a beach or something.
I couldn’t help the familiar habit of comparison. My stature was much shorter and rounder than hers, and where her skin was tan, always giving off a healthy glow, I felt like I had the pallor of the sick boy fromThe Secret Garden. With my glasses in place, the only difference was my hair.
Charlie insisted I stop putting it up, and had spent hours making me watch videos on how to style and treat curly hair. It was my first honest attempt, and I felt both nervous and silly for caring. I had already received numerous compliments, which put me out of my comfort zone.
The heavy weight of my hair tumbling over my shoulders and down my back was a foreign feeling, but not totally unwelcome. Like my glasses, it helped me feel cloaked—hidden, to a degree. I liked the extra layer of protection, even though that was not what Charlie had in mind when she declared I was no longer allowed to wear my hair in a braid.
“Oh my god, you actually did it! You wore your hair down! I thought I was going to have to destroy every scrunchy in your apartment before you did it. It looks so good! Which method did you try? Let me feel it.” She was already leaning over the table to fuss with my hair, flipping the front pieces around and fluffing the back before sitting back down in her seat with a satisfied nod.
“It’s great. I love it. You look fierce, and it’s so fucking shiny. I hate you. Now, I’m getting a milkshake with my burger so I can eat my feelings of jealousy.” I laughed at her dramatics, but made a note to order the club, so we could share. Charlie was not concerned about politeness, and if I didn’t keep a close eye on my plate, she would get to it.
We both ordered and made idle chitchat. The news was playing on one of the TVs above the bar, and Charlie made a face at whatever they were discussing. I turned to look, and saw they were recapping the day’s court events for the Ramirez trial, which had been heavily publicized since the start.
“His lawyer’s an idiot. They never should have pled guilty to manslaughter.Easily could have gotten the charges dropped, too. The prosecution’s case has been totally inconsistent. I mean, their key witness had a clear motive to lie! That guy charges a fortune, too. I almost feel bad for Ramirez. He’s getting fucked by his lawyer before he gets fucked in prison. Guess it will help ease the transition.” I laughed at her dark humor, but couldn’t help but notice the light in her eyes as she talked about the case
“You know a lot about it. I’ve seen a few news clips, but I’m pretty clueless about the whole thing,” I mentioned.
“Oh, I love anything crime-related. Grew up onLaw and Orderand the ID Discovery Channel. Plus, we always have a lawyer on retainer for the club. The cops come at us from all angles, trying to catch us by surprise. It’s pathetic. They are worse than the criminals in some places. There was one time they arrested my dad on a bogus charge. After that, I wanted to make sure we were prepared, and wouldn’t get taken advantage of. I read some basic law textbooks to understand what we can and cannot do when it comes to cops and warrants.”
“Why don’t you go to law school, then? Wouldn’t that help the club if you were able to get your license to practice? They wouldn’t have to rely on an outside person to help them. Honestly, I’m sort of surprised they don’t already have one, like a patched-in Brother called Lawman or Gavel.” I was still getting the hang of the biker nickname thing, but was proud I remembered to think of some.
I looked up to see Charlie staring at me with a look I hadn’t seen before. She had sat back in the booth, her hands in her lap and her eyes watching my face closely.
“Do you really mean that?” she asked finally.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” I replied, using the distraction to steal some of her fries.
“That would be amazing. I don’t know if I’m smart enough, though.”
“Oh, shut up, Charlie. You graduated with an amazing GPA. You aced all your classes. Your problem wasn’t that you’re not smart or unable to learn. It was that you weren’t sure what you wanted to study. I have no doubt that if you went to law school, you would thrive. Look at how excited you are, just talking about it with me. Imagine that passion put into how you approached assignments and tests. You would kick ass, and it would beinvaluable to the club. No one understands their needs and priorities better than you. If you want help looking at programs, maybe starting smaller and taking some auditing classes just to make sure it’s what you want to pursue, I’m happy to help.” I loved the idea for her.
Charlie was smart and tenacious; she would be a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom. I also knew how important it was to her to have a meaningful career—one that not only brought her success, but that could benefit her family and the club. It made me sad that she didn’t think she was smart enough for it. The thunderstruck look on her face made me even more passionate that it was something she needed to look into.
“Actually, don’t ask me. I’m gonna put together some options, and we can go over it Friday. I wore my hair down. You owe me. Friday night, pizza, and law schools. Deal?” I asked, raising my eyebrow, trying to mimic the scary look Charlie had mastered.
“Yeah, okay. I would really like that,” she said, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
“I gotta pee. Can you order me a milkshake to go? I know you have to head back to work soon.”
“Sure. Which flavor?”
“Chocolate!” she yelled as she headed toward the bathroom.
