The car horns continued blaring from every direction. Rosemary continued to string together swears under her breath, and the car in front of her continued to ignore the fact that their blinker was currently indicating they’d be turning the wrong way on a one-way street. Her tiny little woodsy town was nothing like this bright, huge, screaming city.
Rosemary finally reached her turn. She swore again as she heard her bags shift in the backseat. Emmie’s present better not have broken. Rosemary had driven the three hours up to visit her for her birthday, and she should arrive any minute now. If this traffic ever let up.
It took several minutes of more swearing for Rosemary to park in the tiny space. She gathered her things and waited to be buzzed in. The buzzer sounded and Rosemary quickly climbed the stairs, Emmie’s present under one arm.
“Happy birthday Emmie!” Rosemary shouted as the door opened. They leaned in to kiss the other’s cheek.
Emmie tried her best to hug Rosemary with all the things in her arms. “I’m just finishing up dinner now. Traffic here is awful, right? I can hear it all the way up here.”
“Oh, let me help.” Rosemary set Emmie’s present — a whale-shaped flower pot — down on the entryway table.
“You sure?” Emmie raised her eyebrows. “Remember what happened last time?”
“I’ve gotten better, I promise.” Rosemary rolled up her sleeves.
Emmie sighed, smiling. “Well, alright then. Wash your hands and cut that basil for me.” Emmie turned her playlist back on and they swayed to the music. Their favorite songs sounded completely different coming from Emmie’s Bluetooth speaker instead of Rosemary’s record player, but they were just as good.
The cap of the salt fell off as Rosemary poured it into the bowl of pasta sauce. She swore again and dropped the shaker, more salt spilling out onto the counter and floor.
“Charlotte Rosemary!” Emmie said, annoyed but not upset. “How did you even do that?” Rosemary tried to respond, but Emmie kept going. “Okay, just leave it.”
“Emmeline Grace! I can’t believe you would kick me out of the kitchen.”
“Of course this happened right at the end, too. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it. Can you get me some napkins?” Emmie pointed at the paper towels. Rosemary handed her the roll and headed to the bathroom to wash her hands.
The bathroom was so tiny it didn’t even have a medicine cabinet, so Emmie had crammed all her things around the sink. Amidst the battalion of skincare products stood an unmarked silver lipstick tube.
That was unlike Emmie. Skincare was one thing, but she had never been one for makeup. The only time Rosemary could ever remember her wearing it was when she had come on the train to help her move into her new house.
Rosemary picked up the tube. The outside was totally smooth, with no brand marking or color-listing sticker on the bottom. The apartment had gotten uncomfortably stuffy from cooking, but the lipstick somehow wasn’t either warm or cold.
She washed her hands and brought the lipstick out with her.
“Okay, I’ve got the plates made and the salt all cleaned up.” Emmie was wiping down the cutting board with a paper towel. “It’s so hot in here. How about we eat outside?”
“Sounds good,” Rosemary responded. She held up the tube. “Are you wearing makeup now?” It was unlike her and Emmie wasn’t even wearing any now, but it would be lovely to have another common interest when they lived so far apart.
“Huh? Uh, no,” Emmie said. No, of course she wasn’t. “I forgot I had that. I think it’s peach. If I remember right.”
“What happened to the sticker?” Rosemary asked.
“No idea.” Emmie shrugged. “It didn’t have one when I found it. It was on the train, when I came to help you move.” She stared down at the lipstick. “You should try it on.”
“Peach really isn’t my color,” Rosemary warned. She opened her phone camera and tried on a couple swipes anyways. It was a gorgeous rich raspberry. She shouldn’t have asked for a better color.
“Huh,” Emmie said, “I could’ve sworn it was peach.”
“Okay, your turn.” Rosemary handed it to Emmie and she quickly tried it on. “Oh, that looks horrific.”
Emmie laughed. Raspberry did not suit her whatsoever. “Yeah, I totally thought it was peach. Guess that’s what happens when I don’t use it. You should take it. I don’t wear makeup anyways.”
“Really? Thanks!” Rosemary slipped it in her pocket. Emmie wiped the lipstick off her mouth with the soggy paper towel. “Ew, no, you just used that to clean up the mess.”
“I think this is the mess,” Emmie said. They laughed and grabbed their plates.
Emmie pushed the window open with an awful scraping sound, and they slipped outside onto her fire escape. There wasn’t a lot of room for two people, plates, and a speaker, but they made it work. They sang along to the words they both knew by heart and watched what felt like half the city pass underneath them. The pasta sauce didn’t turn out nearly as salty as they thought it would. A summer evening rain started to fall as they finished, and the sunset made Emmie’s street glow.
Rosemary finally reached her turn. She swore again as she heard her bags shift in the backseat. Emmie’s present better not have broken. Rosemary had driven the three hours up to visit her for her birthday, and she should arrive any minute now. If this traffic ever let up.
It took several minutes of more swearing for Rosemary to park in the tiny space. She gathered her things and waited to be buzzed in. The buzzer sounded and Rosemary quickly climbed the stairs, Emmie’s present under one arm.
“Happy birthday Emmie!” Rosemary shouted as the door opened. They leaned in to kiss the other’s cheek.
Emmie tried her best to hug Rosemary with all the things in her arms. “I’m just finishing up dinner now. Traffic here is awful, right? I can hear it all the way up here.”
“Oh, let me help.” Rosemary set Emmie’s present — a whale-shaped flower pot — down on the entryway table.
“You sure?” Emmie raised her eyebrows. “Remember what happened last time?”
“I’ve gotten better, I promise.” Rosemary rolled up her sleeves.
Emmie sighed, smiling. “Well, alright then. Wash your hands and cut that basil for me.” Emmie turned her playlist back on and they swayed to the music. Their favorite songs sounded completely different coming from Emmie’s Bluetooth speaker instead of Rosemary’s record player, but they were just as good.
The cap of the salt fell off as Rosemary poured it into the bowl of pasta sauce. She swore again and dropped the shaker, more salt spilling out onto the counter and floor.
“Charlotte Rosemary!” Emmie said, annoyed but not upset. “How did you even do that?” Rosemary tried to respond, but Emmie kept going. “Okay, just leave it.”
“Emmeline Grace! I can’t believe you would kick me out of the kitchen.”
“Of course this happened right at the end, too. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it. Can you get me some napkins?” Emmie pointed at the paper towels. Rosemary handed her the roll and headed to the bathroom to wash her hands.
The bathroom was so tiny it didn’t even have a medicine cabinet, so Emmie had crammed all her things around the sink. Amidst the battalion of skincare products stood an unmarked silver lipstick tube.
That was unlike Emmie. Skincare was one thing, but she had never been one for makeup. The only time Rosemary could ever remember her wearing it was when she had come on the train to help her move into her new house.
Rosemary picked up the tube. The outside was totally smooth, with no brand marking or color-listing sticker on the bottom. The apartment had gotten uncomfortably stuffy from cooking, but the lipstick somehow wasn’t either warm or cold.
She washed her hands and brought the lipstick out with her.
“Okay, I’ve got the plates made and the salt all cleaned up.” Emmie was wiping down the cutting board with a paper towel. “It’s so hot in here. How about we eat outside?”
“Sounds good,” Rosemary responded. She held up the tube. “Are you wearing makeup now?” It was unlike her and Emmie wasn’t even wearing any now, but it would be lovely to have another common interest when they lived so far apart.
“Huh? Uh, no,” Emmie said. No, of course she wasn’t. “I forgot I had that. I think it’s peach. If I remember right.”
“What happened to the sticker?” Rosemary asked.
“No idea.” Emmie shrugged. “It didn’t have one when I found it. It was on the train, when I came to help you move.” She stared down at the lipstick. “You should try it on.”
“Peach really isn’t my color,” Rosemary warned. She opened her phone camera and tried on a couple swipes anyways. It was a gorgeous rich raspberry. She shouldn’t have asked for a better color.
“Huh,” Emmie said, “I could’ve sworn it was peach.”
“Okay, your turn.” Rosemary handed it to Emmie and she quickly tried it on. “Oh, that looks horrific.”
Emmie laughed. Raspberry did not suit her whatsoever. “Yeah, I totally thought it was peach. Guess that’s what happens when I don’t use it. You should take it. I don’t wear makeup anyways.”
“Really? Thanks!” Rosemary slipped it in her pocket. Emmie wiped the lipstick off her mouth with the soggy paper towel. “Ew, no, you just used that to clean up the mess.”
“I think this is the mess,” Emmie said. They laughed and grabbed their plates.
Emmie pushed the window open with an awful scraping sound, and they slipped outside onto her fire escape. There wasn’t a lot of room for two people, plates, and a speaker, but they made it work. They sang along to the words they both knew by heart and watched what felt like half the city pass underneath them. The pasta sauce didn’t turn out nearly as salty as they thought it would. A summer evening rain started to fall as they finished, and the sunset made Emmie’s street glow.