The Words We Leave Unspoken(5)

“Sushi sounds good. We could walk to Fusion down the street. If we hurry, we might even make happy hour,” I say glancing at my watch again. “Do you want a change of clothes?”

Gwen looks down at her damp slacks and says, “Yeah, I should probably change.”

Walking the few short steps to my bedroom, I grab a stretchy pair of leggings out of a dresser drawer and pull a long knit sweater from a hanger in the closet and throw them at Gwen. “Thanks,” she calls out.

“I have boots to go with that, if you want,” I yell from the bedroom as I undress down to my purple lace thong and matching bra that I chose to wear this morning when I thought that Grey would be ripping them off me this very minute. A sigh escapes me. This is better. This is healthier, better for my soul, I think to myself.

I pull on a pair of worn jeans and a sweater and grab a pair of taupe suede booties for me and a pair of black leather riding boots for Gwen, making my way back to the living room. Gwen steps out of the small bathroom across from my bedroom, her eyes scanning my new attire.

“I swear, you look good in anything. And look at me,” she says as she motions toward her body with both hands. “I’m lucky I could stuff myself into these leggings.”

I laugh. “You look great, Gwen. They’re suppose to be snug.”

“Snug? These couldn’t be any tighter if you painted them on,” she says with a smile.

“Here. Put on the boots, it will finish off the look just right.” I hand her the boots.

“Well, at least we share the same size in something,” she says as she sits down and pulls them on one at a time.

We both step into the bathroom where I run a brush through my long, brown hair and Gwen paints her lips with a mauve gloss. I watch her face in the mirror, comparing her round shaped face to my oval one, the way her short, thick blonde hair, cut in a stylish bob makes my light brown hair seem unusually dark. Her hairstyle and overall look screams perfection while my hair and makeup seem wild, untamed. But the one thing that connects us, the one feature that gives away our shared DNA, our relatedness, is our hazel eyes. Big and green with strong flecks of gold that could appear a muddy shade of blue with the right color of shirt. Eyes that link us both to our father, at least that’s what I’ve been told. Other than that, one would never know we’re sisters.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Yep.”

We slip back on our coats and step into the cool night air. Gwen and I walk swiftly down the street, shivering slightly from the damp cold, chatting about my mundane day at work and the fall weather that has come early this year.

The trendy sushi restaurant is bustling when we arrive, but Sara, the manager, sees me and motions to an empty two-top near the back. Gwen and I bypass the crowd waiting at the door and find our coveted seats.

“Wow, that’s what I call service,” Gwen whispers as we sit.

“I come here a lot,” I admit with a shrug.

We order a couple of beers and Gwen surprises me when she orders a bottle of sake. She’s not much of a drinker.

By the time our miso soup arrives, we are both feeling a little more relaxed and our stiff conversation flows with ease, as if we never missed a beat.

My cell phone buzzes in my purse and I absentmindedly retrieve it. And just as I do, I see the name “Grey Preston” light up the screen. Unfortunately, so does Gwen.

Without answering the call, I stuff my phone back into my purse, sheepishly.

“Why’s Grey calling you on a Friday night? Everything’s going okay with your job, right?”

I fumble for words. I never was a good liar. “Uh, I probably just forgot something. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I brush it off, desperate to change the subject.

“Shouldn’t you answer his call? It could be important.”

“It’s fine. Besides I’m off duty,” I say, waving my hand in the air. My cheeks blush just the slightest bit pink, I know from the subtle heat that warms my face.

“Oh. My. God. You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?” she asks me, her hazel eyes wide.

“Sshh. Geez, settle down. I am not sleeping with him,” I say quietly, averting my gaze, unable to look her in the eye. A dead giveaway, I’m sure.

“Charlotte Brant,” she says, sounding just like my mother, narrowing her eyes at me. “You’re lying. You’re sleeping with him.”

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the lecture, the disappointment.

“Do you have any sense in that head of yours?” she asks in her motherly tone. “I mean, seriously, he’s your boss. John’s friend.” She shakes her head at me but I refuse to feel guilty at her words. I refuse to let her scold me.

“I like him. It just happened,” I say defensively.

“You like him? Since when do you like anyone? Is it serious?” she asks, knowing as well as I do that I don’t do serious. I never stick around that long.

“I like him,” I repeat, shrugging my shoulders.

“So, you like him? Just like you liked my neighbor’s son?”

“Oh here we go,” I say with full sarcasm. I should have known that we couldn’t go one night without her bringing it up. The incident that came between us three months ago, the night that ended with her screaming at me to get my priorities straight, to grow up. Ranting about how selfish I was and how she was tired of taking care of me, tired of worrying about me. I had slammed her front door and walked away but not before spouting, “Fuck you,” at her from the top of my lungs. I had called her to apologize weeks later, knowing that she was right. She’s always right. But Gwen was angry and she can hold a grudge like none other. I was beginning to worry that I had pushed her too far, that I had really lost her for good this time. I couldn’t imagine my life without Gwen. She’s all I have, besides my mother. But Connie and I aren’t exactly close.