Star
Star was sitting at Patricia's kitchen table, sipping her morning coffee, when the doorbell rang.
Patricia, who was seated right across from her, didn't even bother to say anything. Instead, she just raised an eyebrow and exchanged a knowing look with her friend. They both knew who was ringing the bell, and they both knew how Star felt about talking to him. This had become a weird sort of ritual for the two of them.
Star grabbed her cup and took another sip, slowly blinking her eyes. She'd be damned if she was going to get up.
“Guess I'll be right back,” Patricia said, slightly exasperated by the whole situation. Star knew her friend hadn't signed up for this, and she loved her all the more for dealing with it. Patricia's chair squealed over the linoleum as she pushed back from the table and got up to go answer the door.
Star didn't even watch her go. She couldn't blame Patricia for feeling at her wit's end about the situation. She felt the same way. But, she didn't know how to fix it.
Patricia opened the door. “Hi Tanner,” she said in a singsong voice before it was even all the way open. “How are you today?”
“Hi Patricia,” Tanner said back in his standard issue biker growl. Star swore they tested the recruits before they got their patches, just to make sure they were surly-sounding enough. “Star around?”
“Nope,” Patricia replied quickly, automatically. “You just missed her.”
Star could have recorded Patricia's responses from the last few weeks on one recorder, and Tanner's on another, then just played back this exact same conversation back over and over. The little trick would have at least saved him the daily trip to come over here. And, of course, it would save Patricia the hassle of having to turn him away every time.
“Well, I need to see her,” he said, and paused. “I want to see her. Can you tell her I came by?”
“Sure thing!” Patricia said, her voice artificially chipper, especially for this time of day.
“Thanks, Patricia.”
“No problem!”
Patricia shut the door quietly and came back to the kitchen. “He cares about you,” she said as she sat back down.
“I know.”
“Why don't you just go back to him, then?”
“There's no ‘going back,’” Star replied as she fidgeted with her coffee cup and spun it in her hands. “We weren't ever official, or serious.”
“Serious enough to have a baby together.”
Star glared at her friend. “You know what that was about.”
“I know,” Patricia relented, clearly calling for peace before an argument started, “I know. But, geez. Star, I know I was against this guy from the get-go, but . . .”
“But?” Star asked as she stared down at her hands and fidgeted with them.
“But,” Patricia said, emphasizing the word, “I gotta give the guy credit for holding out like this. Not many guys would show up every single day just to be turned away. This is like some Tibetan monastery crap.”
Star chuckled.
“So, he's some sort of spiritual seeker coming up to the top of the mountain every day?”
“Right,” Patricia said, her coffee mug half-way to her lips, “struggling to get to the top, even through blizzards and over glaciers. And you're the grouchy Zen master.”
Star rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Look,” her friend said as she put her coffee back down, “I'm going to level with you. I don't care if you live here for the rest of your life. We can grow up and be spinsters together, and raise this child of yours in a loveless pseudo-lesbian relationship. Dead-bed that shit all the way, only occasionally dragging neighborhood pool-boys into our bed when the sexual frustration becomes too great.”
Star, still looking down at her hands, smiled at her friend's joke.
“But, you'd be miserable doing that. I'm fine with being alone. I have Mr. Wiggles, and I'm okay with the loveless, sexless life ahead of me. You, dear Star, are not. And, do you know how I know?”
“How?” Star asked as she glanced up at her friend.
“You could have put a restraining order on this guy weeks ago. He's showing up at the house, harassing you, calling you, and you haven't seen him or answered the phone in weeks. But, you haven't even thought of calling the cops. Have you?”
Star sighed. “Yeah, I've thought about it.”
“Fine,” Patricia said. “You've thought about it, but probably only for like two seconds. You haven't done anything, though.”
Star shook her head. “It just doesn't seem right. He's going to be the father of my child. How could I put a restraining order on my child's father? But, you were right back when all this shit started. I just don't think I could handle his lifestyle. It's too much. I can't ever have a family with a man like that. His life, and his home life, are just too different.”
“Different from your family?” Patricia asked with a chuckle. “And that's a bad thing?”
“No, it's not that,” Star said, shaking her head again. “I mean, different from what I wanted. What I still want.”
Patricia rolled her eyes. “So, every single thing about every single person has to be perfect, and exactly as you imagined in your little dream-world fantasy? Girl, it's hard work to share a life with someone you love. Even Mr. Wiggles gets on my nerves sometimes.”
“Hey,” Star said, “I never said I loved him.”
“Oh?” Patricia replied with a knowing grin. “Well, I don't think I've ever asked. So, do you?”
“Love him?” Star asked.
“Well . . .?”
“Well . . .”
“Spit it out, girl!” Patricia said, frustrated at the dancing around.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. She looked up at her friend. “I think I do.”
“Star, honey,” Patricia said, reaching across the table to touch her hand, “life never turns out exactly the way we expect. Do you think I originally wanted to end up with Mr. Wiggles as my life partner? I've always been a dog girl.”
Star laughed. “But you love Mr. Wiggles.”
“Exactly. But, I never would have known that if I hadn't just lived my life and taken a chance.”
Star rolled her eyes again. “I can't believe I've sunk so low that I'm taking relationship advice from a crazy prematurely-old cat lady.”
“Prematurely-old cat ladies give the best relationship advice. The kitty cats whisper the answers to all life's questions to us at night. Their sweet purrs are actually genuine words of wisdom.”
“Shut up, Patricia,” Star said, holding back her laughter.
Patricia grinned and readjusted her glasses. “So, you going to go find him? Do I get to witness the ending of one of those rom-coms? Or am I stuck with you ‘til my dying day?”
“There'd have to be some comedy first, wouldn't there? Home invasions and abductions don't exactly fit into that kind of film. But, yeah, I'll go find him. Happy now?”
“Yes,” Patricia said as her cat, a fat white tom, jumped up into her lap and began purring for attention. “And so is Mr. Wiggles.”