Do you ever have those days that you just know will be awful? And you don't know how you know, exactly, but you wake up and look at the ceiling and no matter how hard you try to give yourself that morning pep talk, you just know…

Today is going to be awful.

Well, I woke up like that today. Back when I was a third grade teacher – before I was laid off because of the struggling economy, which I for the record do not hold President Obama accountable for, - Fridays were really special. Not just because the weekend was nearly here, but because the kids would be in a good mood and the other teachers would be in a good mood… Fridays were like a weekly holiday the universe just handed me. Like, 'Here, Jess, you've worked hard shaping young minds all week. Here's one day when everyone is just as happy to be alive as you are.'

I loved Fridays. That's all I'm saying.

"Oh my God, Jess. What the hell are you doing? Since when did you start locking the bathroom door? I've gotta go."

Nick pounded on the door – again. Jess frowned into the mirror. She closed her notebook, stowed her pen, and studied her reflection seriously.

"Just because you're unemployed and Sam dumped you does not mean that you are worthless," she informed her reflection. "Americans gauge their value by their income and social status. That doesn't make it – "

"Jess!"

She unlocked the bathroom door.

Nick pushed past her, took one look around the room, and immediately turned to stare at her like she was the craziest girl in crazy town.

"What did you do?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," she lied. Because she was lying, of course, it was impossible to actually look him in the eye. So, she looked at his ear. That didn't fool him at all.

Nick looked around the room again, taking in the new buttercup yellow bathroom walls, the vintage E-Z bake oven, and the mountain of dresses slung over the top of the bathroom stall.

"You're not sure what I mean?" Nick repeated. "Okay… Well, let me ask you this: What is different about this room since I was in here last night?"

She bit her lip. "There's this party…" Nick quirked an eyebrow. She sighed, and started over. "I know I should have asked first…"

"Schmidt's gonna have a heart attack over these walls. You know that, right?"

He strode past her to do his business in the bathroom stall, but stopped after he'd opened the door.

"Jess?"

She winced. "Yeah?"

"Why's there a plastic stable with a bunch of purple unicorns on the toilet?"

"I can explain."

"Somehow, I knew you could."

"There is a very specific order to things, Jess – that's all I'm saying," Schmidt told her. He was pacing. They were all in the kitchen now – Jess, Nick, Schmidt, and Winston. Nick and Winston were eating breakfast. Cereal. She kept waiting for someone other than Schmidt to yell at her, but so far Nick and Winston actually seemed pretty cool about having a buttercup yellow bathroom.

"It's just, there's this party…" she started again. Nick held up his hand to make everyone be quiet. To her surprise, Schmidt actually did.

"You keep saying that. What party, Jess?" Nick asked. "Because I know I'm no social butterfly, but I don't remember ever having to paint the bathroom to score an invite."

"It's a fundraiser," she clarified. "For this children's charity in Seattle, where they fix cleft palates and teach children to fly helicopters. Or something." She frowned. "Actually, I'm not completely sure about that. Russell invited me… I kind of stopped hearing anything after, 'Will you come to this fundraiser with me…' "

"I don't want to be cruel here," Winston said, "But didn't you guys break up? When did he invite you?" He'd taken her plastic stable and all her My Little Ponys, and was making them do inappropriate things with each other. Which was wrong – but also kind of funny, she had to admit.

"Technically, the invitation was for when we were still dating," she said.

"You dumped him, Jess," Nick said. "You really think he still wants you to be his date?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "Not his date, exactly. But he never took the ticket back, so… I thought I'd just, you know, go. To support the children."

"The ones with the messed-up mouths and the whirlybirds?" Winston asked.

"Cleft palates," Jess said. "And I told you, I may have gotten that wrong."

"I'm sorry, but whatdoes any of this have to do with painting my bathroom?" Schmidt demanded. Yeah…She knew he wouldn't drop that so easily.

"Easy there, Schmidt – Our bathroom," Nick said.

Schmidt waved that off, like it had no bearing on the conversation.

"I'm waiting, Jess," he pressed. "Because you can't just waltz in and paint a man's bathroom, you know. Especially not buttercup… I mean – What were you, raised in a barn? Have you never read a single issue of Martha Stewart?"

"I wanted to see what my dress would look like," she explained. "The place where they're having the fundraiser – I went there last week, and it's very… Yellow. I just needed to see, you know…"

"What about the unicorns? And the oven?" Winston asked. He made Fizzy and Baby Buttons soar through the air head on, then smashed their little plastic foreheads together. Jess marched over and pulled all fourteen ponies into her arms, rescuing them before he did any more damage.

"You're supposed to bring an old toy – they auction them off at the end of the night. So, I was trying to decide between the ponies and their Magic Horsey Haven, or the E-Z Bake."

"Wow," Nick said. She looked at him curiously. "When you said there was a logical explanation, I've gotta admit, I didn't believe you."

"Well, you should have," she returned.

"Still, painting the walls was excessive," Schmidt said. "A clear violation of the roommate penal code."

Winston snickered.

So did Jess.

Schmidt just glared at them all.

"What about this one?"

That evening, Jess emerged from her closet in a peach-colored frock with baby blue flowers. She'd spent the whole day agonizing about this. Did she go, or did she not go? Would Russell want her there? Probably not… He'd probably forgotten he even gave her a ticket, and he'd have some other woman there with him. Someone from his world, who wore all the right clothes and was closer to his age and didn't have any idea how to get the edge in True American. But maybe… Maybe he wouldn't have anyone with him. And maybe he'd been thinking about her. And maybe…

Nick and Winston winced. Schmidt groaned. Jess forced herself to focus.

"Are you trying to wash yourself out?" Schmidt asked. "Do you have no sense at all of your personal palette?" He was sitting perfectly straight on her bed, while Nick and Winston sprawled wherever there was space.

"Black… That's all I'm saying," he continued. "You seriously don't have a single little black dress? They're the staple of every woman's wardrobe."

"Well, not this woman's," she informed him. "I don't like black. It's so… Dark."

"Sometimes, dark is a good thing," Nick said. "Especially when it's cut low…"

"And is real snug, in here and here," Winston motioned to his chest and his behind.

"With some sling-back heels and a little slit up the side," Schmidt added.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not dressing like a hooker, you guys. This is a charity event."

"You don't know that," Winston said. "You don't even remember what he said. And why do you want to go to this thing, anyway? I thought you broke up with him, because you wanted more passion in your life."

"That was before she lost her job," Nick said. "And Sam dumped her. And the world got a whole lot scarier."

Jess didn't say anything to that. Neither did anyone else. She frowned, took a deep breath, and went back into her closet to find something else. She heard Nick say something to the others, and a second later he followed her – right into her closet. And it's not like it was a huge closet. A walk-in, sure, but not a giant walk-in. Nick took one look at her rack of dresses, and just shook his head.

"It's like the closet of a 1950's Mouseketeer."

Her mouth twitched. "I like ribbons and bows."

"And polka dots," he added.

"Yeah. I do like polka dots."

He nodded. They stood there like that in silence, shoulder to shoulder, studying her dresses for a minute or more. Nick's arms were crossed over his chest. He glanced at her every so often like he wanted to say something, then went back to contemplating her wardrobe. Finally, he spoke.

"You really want to do this?" he asked.

"It's just a party, Nick. But… Yes. It's like… I don't know, all of a sudden I feel like I'm trapped in some '90s slacker movie where guys from grunge bands make cameo appearances and nobody showers."

"I would've showered, but there were sixteen plastic ponies in the way."

"That's not what I meant. I just… Maybe having someone like Russell in my life wouldn't be such a bad thing right now, you know?"

She leaned back against the wall, and slid all the way down to the floor. Her life was a mess. And all her dresses had polka dots.

Nick slid down beside her, his shoulder touching hers again. It was a little weird how much she liked it when his shoulder touched hers.

"Y'know, those '90s movies weren't really that bad."

She glanced at him. "Some of them were pretty bad."

"But not all of them. I'm just saying… Not every '90s slacker movie was terrible. Clerks. True Romance."

"I did like the Big Lebowski," she admitted.

He nodded approvingly. "See – there you go. Just relax for a while. Channel your inner Dude."

"I like '40s movies better. And the '20s. When men wore trench coats and called women 'Doll.' Things seemed so much simpler back then." She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"They weren't," he said thoughtfully. "They just made it seem that way."

She considered that, but she didn't argue. Instead, she tucked her arm through Nick's. He glanced at her. She thought he might say something – maybe tell her they had to get up. Instead, he just made himself comfortable on the floor beside her, staring at her dresses.

"We should probably get out of here," she finally said. "Schmidt and Winston…"

"Yeah," he agreed. Neither of them made any move to get up.

"Nick?" she asked after a while.

"Yeah, Jess?"

"Do you like Fridays?"

He thought about that for a few seconds. "Yeah, I do. Friday's a good day. You?"

"This morning, I wasn't so sure I did anymore."

"And now?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah. I still like Fridays."

"Me too." His hand brushed against hers. "Fridays are good, doll."

FIN