The week passed in a similar pattern until I was firmly grounded in my standard schedule. No obligatory outings, no surprise guests. Just a regular old work week. On Friday, I left the office after 6 p.m., and by the time I got to my apartment building, I was talking myself into ordering a pizza rather than cooking. I felt I had earned a reward for such a busy week. Or at least, that was the rationale I was using to try to ease the guilt of ordering out.
As a child, takeout was both a blessing and a curse. At times, it was a splurge I couldn’t partake in. Other times, it was the only food I was able to get, and there were only so many buckets of fried chicken a kid could eat before needing a vegetable. Lost in thought while putting together my order, I didn’t notice the young woman waiting outside my building.
“Fiona?” Her voice stopped me.
Looking up, I recognized Charlie, far more subdued in the waning light. She looked much younger in her casual clothes and bare face.
“Oh! Hi, Charlie. Did you leave something in my apartment?” I asked, trying to figure out what she was doing there.
“No, I’m here for you. I never got your number, and I tried to convince my brother to find it, but he refused to invade your privacy further. I begged him all week. I went back to that pub, but they didn’t have your information.” I was surprised. Her face turned slightly pink as she continued.
“I finally snuck into my brother’s office and found your address. Anyway, I came by...I was hoping to catch you. Hoping we could talk, maybe?”
She seemed nervous, so vastly different from the girl I had met at the bar.
“Okay, do you want to come up? I was about to order a pizza,” I offered. She looked up, surprise clear on her face.
“Really? I would love that,” she said. I smiled.
“C’mon, then. Let’s talk about toppings and sides. You team garlic knots or mozzarella sticks?” I asked as I unlocked the front door.
“I’m starving. What if we got both? I can pay. I owe you one. Pizza doesn’t really compensate, but it’s the least I can do.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said, feeling uncomfortable. I hadn’t helped her to get anything in return.
“Wait, that came out wrong. I’m actually here because I was hoping we could be friends. Consider pizza on me as a gesture of goodwill.”
Surprise ran through me. At twenty-five, I was woefully lacking in friends. I was taken aback by the offer and the effort Charlie had already gone to. Unlocking the door to my apartment, she followed me in. I kicked off my modest heels and hung up my well-used but warm jacket.
Charlie copied my movements before settling in on the couch. I opened the delivery app on my phone and pulled up my favorite pizza shop before passing it to her.
“Here. Why don’t you check this out while I change? I find it abhorrent to wear real clothes in my apartment unless I’m about to leave the house.”
She gave a startled laugh at my comment, but quickly started looking the menu over. I headed for my bedroom, closing the door behind me before stripping out of my clothes as fast as I could. I pulled on my favorite flannel pajama pants and soft, oversized sweatshirt.
I took the clips out of my hair and twisted it back into a simple knot. I slipped on some fuzzy socks and finally felt like I could take a breath, having fully made the transformation from work to weekend mode.
“See anything you like?” I asked as I made my way back into the living room, grabbing water from the fridge.
“I’m pretty flexible. Any toppings but mushrooms because I’m allergic.”
We settled on a large pie—half cheese, half pepperoni—with an order of mozzarella sticks and garlic knots on the side. It felt like a lot of food, but once we both started eating, we made an impressive dent pretty fast.
“Can I ask you a question?” Charlie asked after we both settled in with our plates.
“Sure.” I shrugged as I continued eating my food.
“Why did you help me that night? I don’t remember much, especially leaving the bar, but I know I wasn’t nice to you. But you helped me anyway.” She frowned, looking confused and unsure.
“It was the right thing to do,” was all I said. It was my turn to feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
“Not many would have. I wouldn’t have. And I hate that. All week, I’ve been thinking about every terrible thing that could have happened. I was so stupid, reckless. If it weren’t for you, I just… I feel like a terrible person, and I don’t know if I like who I am anymore.” She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
“I don’t think you’re a terrible person. You went through the effort of tracking me down. You’re here now. The fact that you’re upset, I think, shows you care. If you don’t like who you are, acknowledge what you don’t like and change it. Making a mistake is both the easiest and hardest way to get that kick in the ass to move forward,” I answered.
I knew what it was like to have mistakes guide future moves. My entire life was a result of making sure I did the opposite of every adult who played an active role in my formative years.
“Everyone treats me like a little kid. I always thought it was annoying and unfair, but now, I’m just worried they’re right. That I need protection. I don’t know what being an adult looks like in the real world. I don’t know what it looks like forme. I don’t know who to talk to about it, and I’m sorry for just dumping this on you, but there’s just something about you. I trust you, and I think I envy you a little bit.”
