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Edwina and Penelope aren't really friends, by any measure of the word. They took a creative writing class together in college. Penelope was a good student, because creative writing is the main thing she's really good at. And Edwina was a good student, because Edwina is good at everything. They're Facebook friends now.
Encompassed under ‘everything’, Edwina is good at graciously following up with old acquaintances, when she happens to be near the city. Penelope needed a friend. It was a stilted coffee meetup made in heaven. Now, Edwina sits next to Penelope on the park bench, looking like a Disney princess in Birkenstock sandals.
“Do you think it might have been intended in some other way?” Edwina asks. She takes a polite sip from her frappé.
Penelope ordered a black coffee and then drank it too fast. Now she's jittery, and the coffee didn't even taste that good. “He said he'd never date me, and then he laughed at Fife for even suggesting the idea. I don't see what other way there is to interpret it.”
Penelope has two major conflicts ruining her life right now. The thing with Eloise, which is entirely Penelope’s own damn fault. And the thing with Colin, which hurts her heart and her pride, but should at least be fun to gossip about. In theory.
“If he truly meant it the way he said it,” Edwina says, “Then you deserve better. This is the same man who lost all that money investing in cryptocurrency?”
“It wasn't cryptocurrency,” Penelope jumps to defend, out of habit. “It was GameStop stock. And I don't think he lost that much money. He only bought, um, a couple of shares, I think. And actually, he hasn't sold it yet. So technically he hasn't lost any money, yet… and the price is coming back up, I hear.”
“But I am thinking of the correct person.” Edwina reiterates.
“Yeah,” Penelope says. “Yeah. No, that’s him.” But that's the thing about Colin. He's not necessarily wise, but he's kind and thoughtful and considerate and trusting and good . And that's why it hurts so much more for Colin to scoff at the idea of ever dating Penelope. Because he would never say something maliciously. So he must just genuinely think that the very premise of the two of them, together, is inherently worthy of ridicule. He thinks they’re so obviously mismatched that it's ludicrous to even entertain the thought.
Penelope isn't really even mad at Colin. She's mad at herself, because she'd let herself hope, like a sucker. For ten fucking years.
“I don't know,” Penelope says, eventually. “What's been going on with you?”
“I've been good.” Edwina says. “Busy with work.”
“Oh, definitely.”
“And my sister got married. Which is nice. She's all recovered from the concussion, now.”
“That's a relief,” Penelope says.
“And I've been getting really into Chappell Roan, lately. Have you heard any of her music? She did an outstanding Tiny Desk Concert,” Edwina says. She tilts her head to the side, musing. A cascade of perfect dark curls tumbles over her shoulder. “I think I might be bisexual.”
Penelope has known that sooner or later, she'd have to talk to Colin again. Colin doesn’t even necessarily know that there’s been a horrible cataclysmic shift in their friendship dynamic. Colin hasn’t had any new information recently revealed to him, courtesy of mild eavesdropping and thin walls at board game night.
She wasn’t anticipating that conversation happening now . Or… he could have texted, at any rate. Sometimes Penelope isn’t home. Colin doesn’t live in a 90’s sitcom. He can’t just show up at eight on a Friday night and expect Penelope to be there.
Penelope is there. And she almost always is. Which is no doubt what enables Colin to keep doing it.
This particular occasion is somewhat unique, not only because of the new suspiciously stilted tone. But also because Edwina is in Penelope’s apartment, color-matching lipstick shades to a lace bustier top.
“Hello, Pen.” Colin says.
Penelope is wearing a leather miniskirt and knee boots. And for a mortifying second she really thinks Colin isn’t going to even notice. That he views her as such a sexless figure that she might as well be wearing a fleece sweatsuit.
To his credit, he does recognize, after a moment, that Penelope isn’t dressed for an evening in. His eyes sweep down and then back up again.
“Sorry, are you headed out? I can come back another time. I just had your glasses, to return. From Eloise.”
“Oh!” Penelope says. “Um, no need. If that’s all, I can just take the glasses, and you can be done with it. Clean your hands of the whole situation.”
“Yes, well…” Colin is holding the pair of glasses in his hands, but he isn’t being especially forthcoming with them. “That’s not the only reason. I was hoping we could talk.”
“Here we are.” Penelope tells him. She squares up her shoulders. “I don’t have much time, though. Edwina and I are going to the club.”
“I didn’t realize you wore glasses,” he says. He holds eye contact, solid in his station outside the entryway.
Penelope meets his gaze for exactly as long as she’s comfortable with, and then several seconds beyond that. “I don’t,” she says. “They’re blue light glasses. They’re good for electronics. And… fluorescents, and things like that. Less eye strain.”
“Right,” Colin acquiesces, with the non-understanding tone of someone who has less than six hours of daily screen time.
Edwina finishes with whatever she’s doing, and comes to investigate the meeting at the door.
“Colin,” She greets, reasonably.
“Edwina, how are you?” Colin asks. “It’s been… a few years, now?”
One of Colin’s many endearing traits is that he just honestly loves talking with people. He’ll chat with anyone, at any time, for any reason. And it won’t be uncomfortable or unpleasant. He’ll ask relevant followup questions. He’ll tease, just a little bit and not ever a skeevy amount. And he’ll always give his complete undivided attention to the conversation at hand.
Not this time, though.
Edwina is stunning. Her makeup is dewy and sparkly. Her hair is up. And when she offers some general pleasantries to Colin, it becomes apparent that she’s wearing plastic vampire fangs.
But for all of that, Colin keeps glancing back at Penelope.
“What kind of club did you say you were going to?” He asks, brow furrowing.
“Are the teeth too much?” Edwina asks, barely even lisping around the mouthful of plastic.
Penelope shakes her head. “Honestly, the teeth are really sexy. I thought you were being ridiculous when you first suggested it, but they actually work really well with all the lace.”
Colin shifts his weight to his other foot, rocking back in an uncharacteristically awkward moment of self-consciousness. “Alright, ah. You two seem busy, so I’ll let you be. But um, not to bring this up now… Is it okay if I discuss- Right. Edwina, Pen’s told you about the drama?”
“She has.” Edwina says. “And, frankly, I’m surprised to hear you bring it up.”
“Pen, you need to know that even if Eloise is mad at you… and she is …”
“She’s very mad?”
“Extremely.” Colin grimaces. “The rest of the team at the Co-Op are all still cracking jokes. She’s furious.”
Edwina looks between Colin and Penelope. “I was thinking of another situation. This is drama I’m unfamiliar with.”
“I doxxed Eloise on Twitter.” Penelope explains. “Accidentally. Well. Sort of accidentally. It’s a long story. But now the online communists she hangs out with are all making fun of her.”
“Oh,” Edwina says.
“It’s my fault,” Penelope says. “She’s mad, and I do deserve it. But also, her twitter handle is her full legal name. So, honestly, doxxing might be kind of overselling it.”
Colin nods in agreement. “She’ll forgive you. But I won’t.”
Penelope blinks.
Colin quickly amends his statement. “ Because there’s no need to! You have no beef with me, is what I meant. We’re still seeing eye-to-eye.”
If they’re seeing eye-to-eye right now, it’s only because Penelope’s boots have six-inch stiletto heels. “Absolutely.”
“Because it feels like we’ve been distant, and I don’t want Eloise’s leftist infighting to come between us.”
“It won’t.” Penelope promises him.
The original plan was that Edwina wanted to go to some flavor of gay bar or club. Because of the bisexuality. Penelope was fine with that, because people don’t approach her at straight bars, either. She can enthusiastically lurk around and people-watch in any venue.
They arrived at the bar, and after a lovely conversation with two guys who ended up not being gay, it turned out that Penelope and Edwina had been led astray by the Google search algorithm. By the time they’d realized their mistake, the two well-coiffed heterosexual men had already bought them drinks. And, honestly, Penelope appreciates a man who looks a bit like a Jonas Brother. So the situation could have been worse.
They get back to Penelope’s place after midnight, feet hurting but otherwise feeling pretty good. Edwina has some numbers that are already texting her. One of the Jonas Brothers guys. A guy with a great New York accent. And a girl they collided with on the sidewalk on the way back out to the Uber.
“She was so pretty,” Edwina recounts, muffled into a pillow, lying facedown on the couch. "And she appreciated the fangs"
“That’s what it’s all about, really,” Penelope says, lying faceup on the carpet next to the couch. They tell you that you should always lay on your side and never your back when you’re drunk, because it’s dangerous if you throw up. Penelope isn’t even drunk. But old habits die hard. She rolls over onto her side, stares down the closed door across the room. “Finding someone who appreciates your fangs.”
When Penelope wakes up the next morning, she’s hungover, which is unfair considering she was never drunk to begin with. But she’s in her mid-20’s now, and that’s what happens when you drink anything that actually tastes good, she supposes. The sugar stabs directly into your brain stem, and creates a loud buzzing noise in your ears.
The buzzing noise is Penelope’s phone.
Edwina groans, rolling over on the couch. Penelope pats around on the floor until her hand connects with a rectangular glass screen.
There’s a text from Colin.
benedict says that one of his art school pals met a girl with vampire teeth last night.did you also have the teeth or was that only edwina?
It’s ten AM. That’s rather early to be giving a shit about Benedict’s art school pals.
Only Edwina. But I wore elf ears. Penelope responds.
really??
No.
oh lmao.but you should probably stay away from any of benedicts art school buddies
If Penelope didn’t know any better, she’d think he cares.
Another new text from Colin. meet anyone else?
No. Penelope responds back, tired, with a headache, with a heartache. It was just us, and the one guy Benedict knew from art school. Alone in the bar. Only person we saw all night. Weird!
are you mad at me? i thought we were cool?
We’re cool.
do you want to get breakfast and talk about it?
Penelope considers just leaving him on read, and simmering in the exasperation. But, what can she say, she’s a writer. She creates pictures with her words. And in this case, she’s creating a picture of an emotionally injured friend. No. She sends. After all, that might look like a date. And then what would Fife say?
There’s no text response. Which means Penelope won the interaction. Probably.
Then her phone rings.
“You’re popular this morning,” Edwina mumbles.
Penelope answers the call. She sits up, back aching from carrying the weight of her friendship with Colin for the past decade. And also from sleeping on the floor all night.
Colin sounds frustrated. “Explain why you give a shit what Fife thinks?”
“I don’t,” Penelope says. She gives a shit what Colin thinks, really. Fife was merely the vessel through which uncharitable opinions might be expressed.
“This is about board game night, then?”
“So you fucking know what you said. You know why I’m mad!” Penelope accuses
Edwina peers over the edge of the couch. Put it on speakerphone , she mouths. Penelope waves her off.
“I know you said exactly the same thing to Eloise,” Colin says.
That makes Penelope pause. “Certainly not. Not exactly the same.”
“Well, you said it about me . But otherwise… yes. Exactly the same. ‘ I would never even dream of dating Colin. ’”
Penelope would love to argue the point. In fact, she has had many dreams concerning the subject. Unfortunately, now that Colin mentions it, she does vaguely recall having this sort of disparage-your-siblings conversation with Eloise.
“Maybe I said it to Eloise . She’s your sister .”
“So you did say it. So we’re on even footing, here.”
“Well, what would you have had me say? ‘ Yeah, Eloise, I’d love to fuck your brother! ’? Do you think that would’ve been well received?”
“Would’ve been well-received by me,” Colin says. “And, I mean, Eloise is still mad at you, either way…”