Just Writing

[ Celeste ]

I slammed the car door and stared at my phone for the seventh time that day.

No messages.

Even though it was a Sunday, I’d managed to convince myself Wardrobe needed me. I'd stayed there later than I needed to, tidying things that were already tidy.

I could feel my mouth thinning as I drove. The car engines and truck horns seemed louder this evening. Even the crossing beepers at the lights had more to say than I wanted to hear.

My jaw tightened.

Don't obsess, Celeste.

I pulled in at a drive-through bottle-o. Harsh fluorescent lights were not going to stop me choosing "Cat Among The Pigeons". I checked the year and nodded.

The sun had set when I pulled into my little parking space, grateful the visitors to the next door neighbours hadn't pinched it. Jasmine from the vine on the fence sweetened a weekend-weary evening.

I checked my phone again.

Nothing.

My shoes gave a hollow clack-clack on the floorboards as I entered the kitchenette. I frowned at the slight tremble in my hand as I poured.

I slowly selected a potato. "Brushed". I scrubbed the potato with a curly girl—one of those coiled steel scrubbers—wondering at the term 'brushed'.

Brushed with what? There's still soil!

Checked my phone again.

The microwave hummed as I sat down with my glass and tapped the screen. The phone warbled, then warbled again, bright and pointless. I hung up, my grip tightening on the phone.

6:30 pm. Where is she?

I stared at my glass of wine, and had another sip. The silence in the room was insulting.

The phone trilled. I jumped, then took a deep breath. Let it trill three more times before I tapped it.

I tightened my cheeks into my best smile. The screen brightened, and there she was.

"Hi petal," I said.

"Hi, Celeste," she said. After a pause, "I so miss you!"

I pulled my head back.

"I miss you too, Charli." I paused. Charlotte's head tilted. "So, it's Charlotte, now, is it?"

One side of her lips raised. "Yeah, Brittany didn't like 'Charli', said it was too blokey. Fine by me." She grinned. "Tell me if you hate it."

I snorted.

Those were my words.

I wagged my brows at her with an honest grin. "Touché." My shoulders dropped—I let out a breath I only just realised I'd been holding.

"So, how is training going?"

"Yeah. I think they're getting it," she said. "Harri's got the hands—"

"Harry?"

"She prefers it to 'Harriet'," Charlotte said. "Caroline's into design—she's got great ideas, too. Natalie is going to be their Sarah: I can just see it."

"And Brittany?"

Charlotte bit her lip before replying. "Well, she's a bit of a 'jack-of-all-trades'. But I think she'll sort of end up as manager—"

I swallowed.

"In other words, my role."

"Um, yeah. Sort of. I guess."

I snorted again. My lips had gone tight.

Charlotte frowned. "What?"

"Nothing. Have all the costumes been distributed?"

"Yep. Every last one. And we've also had a couple of repairs. Something tells me Fiona doesn't think they're going to be all that busy, though. I think she's in for a bit of a surprise." She stopped, staring at me. "You know, it's nice up here, but—"

"But?"

Her lips twitched.

"Well, it's a bit party-town after work. Especially on Fridays and the weekend."

"So, like Melbourne."

"I guess." Her lips went sideways. "Not my thing. I mean, the pool party was, um, fun—"

My brows rose.

"How so?"

"Well, everyone was so nice. I even got me a new dress," she said. "I think you'll like it."

"You went shopping for a dress?"

"Well, actually, Brittany took me. She had decided something about what I was wearing." She shrugged. "But yeah, I like the dress. Paid a bit more for it, but then, I didn't get from the shops I usually go to."

The knot had tightened again.

“What did Brittany have an issue with?”

“Look, she’s from Perth. Her folks just bought her a brand-new EV," Charlotte said. "I’m allowed to be mildly suspicious of her standards.”

I cleared my throat.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"What, shopping?"

I nodded. She frowned. "It's a bit— new to me. There's more to it than I thought there would be."

“Mm.” I let the stem turn between my fingers. “And you think I’ll like the dress.”

One side of her mouth lifted. “Yeah. I do.”

We held each other’s gaze through the screen.

She let out her breath in a big sigh. "Two more weeks," she said finally. I pulled my mouth into a small, steady smile as I dipped my head.

"I'm proud of you," I said. "Fiona is really impressed how quickly her department is getting up to speed."

Charlotte found a smile, and kept it there. Her eyes had a question, though.

"What is it?"

She grimaced and let an impatient breath out through her nose. "Not sure how to—"

I flipped my hand.

"Just say it, Charlotte."

She took in a deep breath.

"Well, so—" She paused again. I stilled, waiting. "The pool party, right? The girls kept inviting me in." Another pause as she bit her lip. "Celeste, I couldn't—"

My mouth twitched in a small smile.

"How did you get out of it? No togs?"

Her face reddened. A laugh escaped me. "You didn't!"

"Yep. Invoked Martha. Hey, what else could I—"

"No, that was perfect! Good thinking."

She grimaced. "Have to admit, not my idea. But, here's the thing... I can't keep using that excuse, Celeste. And, to be honest, I don't want to, either." She looked down, her eyes serious. "I've been thinking about this a lot, lately."

"Of what, exactly?"

Outside, a lapwing screeched.

"Of, um, like... surgery?" Her voice was thin.

The screeching faded into the distance.

"Big step."

She stared down, her lips tight.

"I know," she said softly.

I took a sip from my glass. "Just checking. This really isn't just so you can wear togs, is it?"

"No, of course not." She finally looked at me—her eyes had reddened. "No, it's... I've actually been thinking about it, ever since I started the treatments. Off and on."

“Right then,” I said. “This is about something else.” The knot was gone. I looked away for a moment. “Tell me, when you picture it done, what do you actually feel? Relief? Or just less fear?”

She looked away, biting her nail. The clock in the kitchenette ticked.

"Relief?" Her eyes held the question.

"You're not sure?"

"No, it's not that. Just—" Her fingers stroked her temple. She frowned slightly. "I know this sounds weird, but am I allowed to feel... relief?"

"What do you mean, 'allowed'? It's your body, Charlotte."

"Yeah but—"

"I'm not following."

She gave her hand an impatient shake.

"I'm not saying it right, Celeste. It's just... don’t feel like this is only about me.”

I gave a puzzled snort. "About who, then?"

"Well, you, for one," she replied. “It doesn’t feel like something I can decide without you.”

"Oh." I leaned back with a nod, fingertips on my lips. "I see."

Her eyes sought mine.

“I know it’s mostly about me,” she said. “But it changes things for both of us, doesn’t it?”

"If you're talking about the pitter-patter of little feet around the house—"

"Well, yes and no." Her brow furrowed. "It's just that with surgery, there's risks."

"Pregnancy has risks, too," I said.

"True." Charlotte’s mouth widened without becoming a smile. "We have a lot to think about."

We.

That landed well.

"I miss you," she said.

"And I miss you," I replied. “More than’s sensible.”