Undefined

You had this friend, Charlie. She was the kind of person who broke limbs while fitting into yoga positions and cried while watching Elf despite the fact that she was Jewish. Charlie liked to buy piggy banks of twisted animals and tell stories about her free days. 

She’d tell this one story about an all-nighter in college. You went to the same college and exchanged clipped words but still you didn’t appear in the story. It didn’t bother you, really. Charlie owned a house and you owned an apartment. Perhaps that’s what bothered you. But Charlie was married and drinking bourbon to boast about the heart benefits, if there actually were any. 

Charlie invited you to a picnic in the dead of winter. You showed up knotted in blankets just before the afternoon sun swallowed the park. She was lying on a tarp over the frozen ground. Another woman, Mel, was there. She appeared in Charlie’s college story. Mel lay next to Charlie, their eyes captured by the sky.

You sat next to them, feeling your crumbled cookie in your pocket. There was no need to apologize for being late because Charlie didn’t care about that kind of thing. 

“Why do you have a boy’s name, Charlie?” you asked her, resting your head on your hands. 

She smiled, but only slightly. “What’s in a name?” 

You considered this, lips peeling apart. Charlie’s questions required no answers sometimes. 

“How are the kids, Charlie?” Mel piped in. 

“When someone says good does this mean they’re actually good?” Charlie inquired. Mel stayed silent. 

The wind swam through your clothes. It howled in your ears and made you dig your fingers into the frosted dirt. You looked at Charlie. Her fingertips were white and blue and her hair danced in the air like snakes. 

Charlie had short hair back in college but she grew it out just to let her little babies tug on it. You couldn’t imagine having children. And you’d never actually met any of Charlie’s. You called them Baby even though Charlie had mentioned one was eight years old now. 

Mel shifted uncomfortably. She had big hands and Charlie twisted her fingers together. Next was your hand. Charlie grabbed it and squeezed. You never felt so lonely. 

“If I asked you to look at the sky would you do it?” Charlie asked. 

You and Mel opened your eyes wide and stared at the blanket of gray before you. There was a slight humming sound and you saw a little black dot streak through the air. In its wake, white smoke curled into patterns. You held your breath because it was beautiful. 

“Why do you have a boy’s name, Charlie?” you asked, sitting up. 

“Would I get to ask more questions if I were a boy?” she countered. 

You said nothing. The little plane and its smoke looked like it was cracking the sky into pieces. But then you realized the patterns resembled letters. By then the plane had already scribbled ‘WILL YOU’ for the entire park to see. 

M

Charlie sighed, her breath puffing from her cheeks and staining the scene. 

A

You crossed your feet. 

R 

Mel seemed transfixed on the plane. 

R

You and Charlie knew what was happening—

The plane did some sort of twirl in the air and messed up the ‘Y’. Mel pouted. You opened your mouth to speak but Charlie beat you to it. 

“Are they practicing?” She licked her lips. You nodded, letting out a breath you didn’t know you had. 

A marriage proposal. You could imagine the couple, sitting on the same hill, their heads resting together. The plane would spell it out and would they say yes? Would they be happy? There were so many questions. 

Charlie brushed her eyes and it was then you saw her red cheeks. It was because of the cold, you told yourself. 

“Why do you have a boy’s name, Charlie?” you asked. 

“How would you react if I told you I was divorcing Will?” Her words came out quickly and whistled through her teeth. It wasn’t a question but that’s how she spoke. Mel’s lips parted and she turned to face Charlie, their fingers till entwined. You didn’t react but felt a sinking feeling. 

“What about the kids?” Mel wiped hair out of her face. 

Charlie frowned, “Do you think they’ll miss me when I’m gone?” 

“Do the bees miss the flowers in winter?” you said, and turned to look at Charlie. 

There was ice on her cheeks and you wanted to kiss it away. You wondered if it was tears but Charlie didn’t cry. Charlie also didn’t like metaphors and you used them to snap her back into reality. 

“Is a man sad if he thinks a Christmas tree symbolizes Nazism?” Charlie looked at the ground. “Is it sad if a Jewish girl wants her children to see a tree with lights?” 

Mel smudged Charlie’s mascara until it looked like a mere shadow under her eyes. She was always the girl who used your older sister’s stale makeup but those days were over. 

Charlie coughed into the crook of her elbow. “Would it be sad if I told you both that I only invited you to this cookie exchange to tell you about my sad divorce?” 

You noticed that the little plane was starting over again with the proposal, spelling out the words carefully. Charlie didn’t see it. 

“Would it be sad if we actually exchanged the cookies now?” Mel asked. 

So you did. Mel received your crushed cookie with cold hands. She licked the icing and cleaned her fingertips. Mel’s cookie was plain with no icing. Just browning cookie. You suspected it was slightly burned when Charlie bit into it. Charlie’s cookie was perfectly frosted with an array of sprinkles. They fit nicely into a reindeer shape. It tasted like red-brick depression and childish ingredients. 

Mel left soon after. She pulled down her sleeves and hugged Charlie. No hug for you but you were okay with it. 

Charlie folded the tarp. You folded the blankets. She rubbed her hands on the grass. You stood. 

You had this friend, Charlie. She was the kind of person who asked questions without answers and divorced crazy men. 

“Why do you have a boy’s name, Charlie?” you stared into her eyes. They were brown. 

“What does a name define?” Charlie asked, and began walking into the mist of the park.