“Just correct her, it’s fine.”
She reaches for her drink and tilts her head back, eyes tightening as she gulps every last sip. A laugh escapes me, perhaps a little bit at her expense. “It’s not a big deal,” I tell her.
“No, it is. I didn’t know what it seemed like and… That’s not where the story ends.”
I fight a teasing smirk. Clara and I have been friends for almost two decades, we’ve been through a lot together. It’s great to have friends that you can just dive back into with. No bullshit. No small talk. None of the shit that makes my brain feel jammed like a phone's busy signal.
And our relationship has always sort of existed in a teasing, silly way. We get a little hyper together and more sarcastic than I let myself be with other people. Because if Clara interprets something differently than I intended it, she just asks. She’s not one to let anything fester. Almost as if every thought or question of hers has to getoutto make room for more. So I can relax a little knowing that I won’t upset her, and if I do, she’ll let me know.
“What did you do?” I ask, voice smug.
“We were in a budget meeting, at the end of the day. Everyone was just making polite chit-chat and—” Clara picks up the small paper menu and covers half her face.
“Clara.” I elongated her name, half laughing. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“I said I was going out for dinner with my girlfriend tonight. To celebrate the first day on the job.”
I genuinely try to fight it, I do, but a snort-like laugh escapes through my nose.
“No!” she whines, reaching for a now empty glass. I take that as my cue and walk to the bar to order another round.
From here I can see Clara biting her fingernails in between running her hands through her hair. It’s far longer than she had it last spring when I saw her on the subway. Though—she got off before I said anything.
I’m not sure why but seeing her out of context like that, unexpectedly—it caught me off guard. Honestly, before I realised it was Clara, I had been checking out the beautiful blonde stranger nodding along to whatever was playing from their headphones. She was wearing these black ripped jeans and army boots that I loved. I remember thinking her ass looked fantastic, especially as she softly swayed to the music only she could hear. Then, she turned. And I froze momentarily before averting my eyes.
She is still as beautiful now as she always has been.
And she really does give offvibes…though obviously unintentional. My life-long friend has described herself as, “tragically straight” when asked. While teenage me believed that totrulybe a tragedy, I’m far past that crush now.Far past it.
The bartender slides a martini and my glass of merlot across the bar, so I make my way back towards Clara who looks so agitated she may burst out of her skin.
“It’s going to be fine,” I say, setting down her drink.
The words are barely out before she’s already taking a large gulp and hissing at the first taste.
“I didn’t really think about it before, Ev, but… they’re all gay. Everyone I worked with today mentioned their partner and Loretta said this thing about being intentional about who she hires? Do I?” She licks her lips then her brow furrows as she looks at the table between us. “Do I give off a certain… vibe?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. “Sort of.” I try to soften the answer.
“Right.” She nods. “I mean, other people have told me that before.”
“Natalie thought you were,” I tell her, finishing a languishing sip of wine. “She was always trying to set you up with a friend of ours.”
Natalie and Clara only met once. I was in my last year of teacher’s college and Nat threw me a party for my twenty-fifth. They seemed to get along fineatthe party—but afterwards, Nat turned rather interrogatory about Clara. I remember, despite being rather tipsy, having to tell her multiple times that Clara wasn’t interested in women. But that’s when Nat hit me with a question I didn’t expect: “Yeah… but areyouinterested inher?” she had spat.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Hypothetical questions arealwaysa bad idea.
“Oh my god!” Clara exclaims, bringing my attention back to the dimly lit restaurant.
I look over my shoulder as if there must be a shocking revelation behind me causing Clara to speak so abruptly and loudly.
“Oh my god,” she mutters, putting her face in her hands.
“What?” I ask incredulously.
“I’m a fucking idiot, Ev.”
“Explain,” I demand, reaching for another sip of wine and pushing my glasses up my nose.
