Can't Help It

Chapter 11

"Oooh, no

Baby, please don't go."

"I'll call you, like, all the time, I promise." Charley gives me the biggest hug she could muster, her eyes slightly damp, standing on the sidewalk outside our apartment, her moving van idling beside her while her father waits for the two of us to finish our final goodbyes.

I hadn't wanted this to be a tearful thing, I'd wanted to tell a few inside jokes, share a bottle of wine and then load up her stuff with Charley father. Well now we'd done all that stuff, our last night as roommates having been spent like most of our previous nights: drinking wine on the couch while a barrage of ABC Family original movies played on our TV. But now here we were, and I found I'd actually have to watch my best friend get in the car and drive away. It was proving to be harder to do than I think either of us thought it'd be.

Charley's eyes flicked down the road for the 10,000th time that day, clearly watching to see if someone would drive up.

"I take it James didn't like the idea of you moving very much, huh?" I asked sadly, trying not to show any signs of mental superiority, when inside my head was ranging with a barrage of "I told you so!" For once, though, watching Charley shoot me a watery smile, I absolutely hated being right. But more than that I hated James for doing this to my best friend.

"It's okay, really," I respond to her unshed tears, knocking into her with my elbow. "Long-distance would have been hard anyway." I try my best to seem cheerful. "Look on the bright side, this will just free you up for meeting new people once you get to New York, right?"

Charley nods. "Yes. I'm just sad. And not even about James, really. I'm just sad to go. I'll really miss you."

I take a deep breath. "Clearly." I grin at her. "I am the best thing that ever happened to you, after all."

Charley shoots me a skeptical smile that fades quickly into a toothy grin. "Are you sure you don't need help with rent? I could find you a new roommate or help out for a while?"

"Puh-lease." I roll my eyes at her. Like money even factors into this whole mess. "I've been trying to get this apartment to myself for years! I'm going to turn your room into a dining room. You know, so I won't have to eat every meal on the couch or perched in the corner of the kitchen like a bat."

Charley chuckles. "Bats don't perch." She literally jumps as her father honks the horn and shouts from the driver's side about it being time to hit the road. Her eyes flick down the road one last time. "Will you still play Frisbee with the team?" she asks hopefully.

I wince. I hadn't honestly thought about it. "Why would I? Now that you're gone?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, I guess that would be… strange. They're going to suck without you."

I wave my hand dismissively. "Ah, I'm sure no one will miss me at all. Maybe Rich."

"Not Ethan?" she asks, unable to stop herself from wiggling her eyebrows at me suggestively.

Again I shrug. "Now that you're gone, I doubt I'll be seeing Ethan much at all, without you dangling him in front of my face like an unreachable treat."

"He is pretty delicious, though, isn't he?" she grins suggestively.

I lightly smack her on the arm. "Oh, just shut up and leave already."

She grins back, reaching for the U-Haul door. "I'll miss you, you stupid bitch," she says as she climbs into the front seat.

I roll my eyes. "Call me when you get there?"

She chuckles back through the still-open door as she snaps her seatbelt into place. "Whatever, mom."

And with that she closes the door to the truck and her father hastily puts the behemoth in drive and they're gone. My best friend is gone.

I stare down the street for a while, trying to think of what to do next, where to go from here. I don't come up with any astounding possibilities so eventually, as I realize how pathetic I must look standing on the street staring at something that's already gone, I wander back inside my half empty apartment. I consider watching a movie, but upon entering our living room, I remember that Charley took our couch. It suddenly all just looks so empty.

I sit down cross-legged on the wooden floor and pull out my phone. "Hey George," I mutter after four rings and a send-over to voicemail. "It's your sister. I know you're probably on a hot date with Pam Anderson or someone, but if you get a moment could you call me back? Charley just left and I kind of need to talk to someone. Ok, love you."

I hang up my phone, blink seven times at absolutely nothing and then, without much say in the matter, I start to cry.

It only takes me about a week to realize that this whole living alone thing is not all it's cracked up to be. So without really considering it all that much, I put up a Craigslist ad for a new roommate and finally buy a new couch.

By the next day, I have a new leather monstrosity taking up way more space than I'd bargained for, a whole new set of wine glasses (not sure who will use the other ones, but oh well) and an inbox full of creepy responses to my ad.

I wade through them with an almost perpetual look of horror across my face. Responses range from 70-year-old men to nympho… strippers? (I'm really not sure, but she asked how I'd feel about being paid with singles.)

Maybe a roommate wasn't such a great idea.

"I'm sure you'll adjust to living alone, Darcy," George says through my iPhone as I race around the kitchen attempting to cook dinner. It's been a week since Charley left, and, honestly, making anything more elaborate than a Hot Pocket seems extravagant ever since. But tonight I was determined to feed myself something with actual nutritional value. Without Charley there to poach my food, I'd just have to live off the leftovers… for weeks, probably. It's hard cooking dinner for one. "Eventually," George tacks on as an afterthought.

I chuckle. "Sure, eventually. But for now I just get to be the loneliest asshole on the playground."

"Why would you be hanging out on the playground, Darcy? That's weird."

I roll my eyes and snort. "No, I don't, George." I mutter back as I toss a pile of peppers into the frying pan to simmer. "Please try to keep up with my sense of humor."

"I don't think anyone can keep up with that warped thing you call a 'sense of humor.'"

I pout. "God, I can even hear you using air quotes through the phone." I throw some mushrooms into the pan and an ample helping of curry sauce. "And Charley got my sense of humor, so you can too."

"Oh, god, Darcy." His exasperation is tangible. "You're starting to sound like you've been dumped. It's kind of pathetic."

"George!" I almost shout into the phone. "Don't be mean to me! I'm fragile!"

"Darcy, you've never been fragile a day in your life," he replies and I can't help but smile. It's nice that he actually believes that. Nice, but so incomprehensibly untrue.

"How's school going?" I ask, stirring the suddenly goopy contents of my pan and trying to puzzle out where I'd gone wrong as the rice suddenly begins to over-boil.

"Oh good. Killing it in class, like usual."

"That bimbo slut still bothering you?"

"She's not a bimbo. She's like the most beautiful girl in school—"

Beep-beep.

I pull my phone from my ear to see it flashing with an incoming call from Rich. That's weird…?

"Hey, George, I gotta go. Call waiting," I say, jamming my phone back to my ear. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Nah, you need to hold on to whatever friends you have left. They're dropping like flies!"

"Thanks a lot, George," I mutter back darkly, yet smiling at his teasing. Gosh, even my brother realizes the sorry state of my social-life. "And, Georgie, just because this girl is pretty, doesn't mean she's better than you. You remember that, ok?"

"I'm awesome," he intones back, somewhat more sarcastically than I'd hoped. "Got it."

He clicks off the line before I can say goodbye and Rich's voice takes over.

"Darce? You still alive, babe?"

"Ugh," I growl into the phone. "Don't call me babe, you obnoxious asshole."

"Don't act like you don't like it," he replies smugly.

"What can I help you with, Richard," I ask trying to bypass his antics. "I'm not rejoining the stupid Frisbee team."

"Hah," he chortles. "That's not why I'm calling. We actually have a few new girls."

"Oh," my heart still for a second. "Who?"

"Namely? Jocelyn."

My heart plummets. "Jocelyn Wickham?" It feels like burning. My rice starts to over-boil again, but this time I don't really care and just flick off the burner and turn away from my disastrous dinner.

"Amongst a few others."

"Oh."

"But like I said, " Rich continues hastily, recognizing quickly my discomfort with the situation, "that's now why I'm calling."

"Ohhhkay. Then why are you calling?" I force myself to remain with the flow of conversation and not linger on the horror that is Jocelyn Wickham.

"I was wondering if you were looking for a roommate."

I frown. Was I? Truth be told, I'd mostly given up on the hunt and replaced my loneliness with a Netflix account. "Yeah, I guess so. Why?"

"My twin sister is coming to town and looking for a place."

"The other Fitzwilliam?" I ask, slightly dumbfounded. "I didn't even know you had a twin. What's she like?"

"Oh, you know. Me with breasts."

"Sounds horrifying."

I can almost hear him grinning. "It is. You'll like her."

Okay, so clearly this is somewhat transitional of a chapter. I'm sad to see Charley go. And I really considered letting her and James go long-distance (because I'm a big ole softy), but alas that is not the route Jane Austen went so very long ago and I feel it's an integral part of the storyline. Don't worry though, you'll find out why James is a no-show. Eventually…

Now I really must go cry myself to sleep because I just watched the latest episode of Downton Abby (the American airing—no spoilers please, you Brits!) and I can't believe how unbelievably sad it was!

Hope to get a new chapter out soon. Not that I don't love it, but I feel I must keep some independent works on the page before the LBD takes over entirely! Perhaps it's time they give it a page of its own? (Which I will thereafter check regularly, obviously!)