Hello, readers!
Thanks for taking a chance on me! I'm a long-time reader, first-time writer, blah,blah,blah… I just like to write! And I get ridiculously involved in what I read. Anyway…
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even my car.
Obviously
Casey pulled her rain boots over her water-resistant socks. One can never be too careful about wet feet. The last time her feet got wet, she'd gotten bronchitis. But today was going to go well; no little slip-ups. She gathered her hair into her hood and checked her pockets again for her keys. They were still there. She blew out a breath, letting her bangs haphazardly rearrange themselves, and looked about the living room with her hands on her hips. This was going to be the most uncomfortable afternoon of her adult life. Except maybe her wedding. But that was different. Sort of.
Deciding that today was going to happen, no matter her stalling, she fished her keys out of her pockets, checked the lock on the front door, and stepped out into the rain.
She really should have planned better for today. Usually, she has a plan for everything, especially when there were so many ways for things to go wrong. Secrets tend to be that way; easy until everything goes wrong. Almost like a lie. But she didn't lie! Merely… didn't disclose the entire truth. Emily was mad nevertheless, and Casey completely understood her anger. The two women had managed to stay friends through college and after. They spoke all the time, through the occasional email and phone calls, and would usually catch up. Just not on everything. Casey really should have seen this coming.
Friday afternoons usually gave Casey an afternoon to herself. She usually wandered to a farmer's market to stock up for the week and Emily shouldn't have been anywhere in Ottawa. Casey had moved there for a reason. Not an anti-social reason, just… a good reason. And it wasn't as if Casey could pretend she wasn't there; Emily noticed everything. She'd screamed Casey's name and run up to her in excitement. Casey had frozen. Blind panic and the mantra of "what the hell is she doing her?" were the only things she was able to register the moment her high school friend launched herself into Casey's arms. She couldn't pull off the rude, "Who are you?" or pretend she only spoke French; this was Emily for Herman's sake! And she was genuinely excited to see Emily, it had been years.
Casey smiled warmly and hugged her friend, but her brain couldn't keep up with her mouth as the first words she said were not "Hello" or "How are you" but "Whaaaaaaaat are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? Case, what are you doing here? You were in Kingston, last I heard!" Emily's parents had kept their old house in London and kept her up-to-date with the next-door neighbors. Or so she thought.
"And you were back in London," Emily's internship had brought her back home. Which was six and a half hours away. Or seven if one was being safe. Because speeding is a traffic violation.
"My fiancée lives in St. Catherines!" Emily flashed her left hand in Casey's face.
The biggest problem with newly engaged women is that they are very focused on rings. Who has what ring? Is mine better/bigger/shinier? So, the planner that she is, Casey stuffed her left hand into her coat pocket and began gushing over Emily's sparkly engagement ring, asking about size, carrot, the proposal and everything she could think of to keep Emily's focus on Emily and not on Casey. It worked for a while, too. Emily launched into a story about Niagara Falls and an overly cliché barrel while Casey calculated escape routes based on the amount of rudeness involved. She had started walking as Emily talked, the story-teller following utterly entranced by her own memory. Running was just silly; all of her Washington Apples would bruise and her knees would probably break. And in any case, half of Emily's gesticulations involved touching Casey's arm and shoulder. So Emily would probably notice if Casey all of a sudden disappeared. Sneakiness was not a learned trait. Or a Casey trait.
Eventually, Casey and Emily perched at a worn-looking wooden picnic table near the parking lot of the market as Emily told Casey how she and "Steven" had met, forgetting that she'd emailed Casey the story four months ago when it had actually happened. And his name had been "Stefan." Casey toyed with the offending circle on her left hand under the table and tried to fully involve herself in Emily's tale. Would someone report her missing if she were home late? That was mean, Emily didn't talk that much; she was just excited. In high school, Casey had had to rubber-band the phone to her head when Emily and Derek had started dating because all the blood in her arm was gone and her ear was bright red. This was nothing. And was better for her hair.
"Oh, my god!" Emily's outburst jolted Casey's though back to the present. It scared her for a second and she looked around before noticing Emily was looking at her watch. "Shit, I was supposed to meet Steve two minutes ago!" Casey couldn't help it as the relieved smile spread across her face. She made it! Emily maneuvered out from the bench and table and moved to hug Casey. Sure to keep her hand in her pocket until behind Emily's back, Casey hugged her back, truly glad to have seen her.
"I really missed seeing your face, Casey," she said, pulling back. Casey nodded.
"I could be sixteen again," Casey mused, adjusting her purse strap. They smiled at each other, breaching the awkward moment of departing without anything further to say to one another. They sighed, simultaneously and laughed. "Well, it was really nice talking to you." Casey pulled her keys out of her pocket.
"Jesus Christ!" Emily's face hardened slightly. Confused, Casey looked around again before eyeing her friend with a look that asked "What are you 'Jesus Christ'-ing about?" Emily looked back at her, not really joking. "Are you kidding me?" she asked, throwing her arms up in the air.
"What?" Casey asked, wondering if Emily had just now noticed that her attention had been less than undivided.
"You're married?"
What.
Oh, yeah.
Her keys had been in her left pocket. With her hand. And wedding ring. Which was now on display. That was just bad planning.
