#
Around the corner from the lab, there was a tiny café in the first floor of a brownstone building. When the trio arrived at 5:40 in the morning, many of the tables were already occupied. It didn’t used to be this way, and it certainly wasn’t busy because of early risers. Much of the population of the city worked the night shift to save on energy, and they set out for a morning meal when their shifts ended, anywhere between four and eight in the morning.
Joanna slipped behind the self-service counter and, after several minutes, made her way to the corner table where Charlotte sat with Paul. She carried a medium-sized kettle, three teacups, a cup of imitation creamer, and a plate of scones on an aluminum tray, and served the table when she arrived.
“I hope Earl Grey is all right,” Joanna said.
“Perfect, thanks,” Charlotte replied. “Thank you for getting this,” she added, gesturing toward the food on the table.
Joanna waved as a way of saying, “Don’t mention it.” Aloud she remarked, “It was my turn. We come here every week, you see, to celebrate the end of another workweek. Hopefully you’ll stay in Beta Lab and next week it’ll be your turn.” Joanna smiled.
Charlotte smiled back and took one of the teacups.
“So, what are you up to today, Paul?” Joanna asked as she dished herself up a scone.
“Well,” Paul replied, looking the slightest bit sheepish, “I think I’m headed to a salon with some mates of mine around midday.”
Joanna smiled warmly at him and said, “Aww, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all have our needs. If I weren’t so busy, I might be tempted to join you at the salon.” She took a bite of scone and with a look of pretend modesty said, “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. For all we know, Charlie might not approve of the salons.”
Charlotte fidgeted with her teacup and said, “No, I mean, I have no problem with the salons. I’ve never been to one myself, but I don’t judge other people for going to them.” She shrugged, trying to make the gesture appear casual.
Paul looked increasingly uncomfortable. His voice sounded constricted as he said, “Plenty of people meet someone at a pub and go home with them that same night. At least with the salons, you can be sure your sex partner is properly screened and registered for diseases.”
Joanna added, “Well, that’s the old argument, isn’t it? We’ve all heard that before. The salons are safer, in a way.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Charlotte replied. “And I didn’t mean to offend you, Paul. I really don’t have a problem with the salons. I’m just a bit old-fashioned. I need some emotional attachment to a person before having sex.”
Now it was Paul’s turn to shrug. His face relaxed and he looked at Charlotte, and said, “I’m not offended. Sorry I got a bit defensive, mate.”
“Not at all,” Charlotte said.
When the kettle was almost empty, and the conversation had covered an assortment of uncontroversial topics, Paul once again turned to Charlotte. He asked, “I don’t suppose you play football, do you?”
Charlotte had indeed played football throughout her childhood, although in the U.S. it was still called soccer. She made the transition to calling it football when she began college on the other side of the pond from where she grew up. She replied to Paul, “I played at university, but I haven’t played since then.”
“But that’s brilliant,” interjected Joanna. “You’re a regular footballer. What position?”
“Midfielder,” Charlotte replied.
Joanna and Paul exchanged a look.
Paul said, “We don’t want to force you into anything, but we’ve been playing in a recreational morning league for several seasons and we could use some fresh blood – I mean, a new player or two.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Charlotte said, hesitating. She had known Joanna and Paul for less than a day, and already they wanted a commitment to socialize on an ongoing basis?
“Just think about it,” Joanna said. “This season’s registration deadline isn’t for a couple of weeks. Besides, ‘a healthy body is a healthy mind.’” Joanna had repeated a government slogan – one encouraging the public to participate in social sports. Most people listened to the advice.
Chapter Four
The sounds of Charlotte’s boots hitting the stairs and the creaking of the wood with each shift of her weight as she climbed from step to step were drowned out by the noise of a family arguing on the landing a couple floors above. The stairwell was narrow, the walls made out of cinderblock, and the high pitch of the mother’s and children’s voices reverberated for all to hear.
As Charlotte drew closer to the landing, she saw that the family was struggling to move a couch through the doorway. It looked like something of an antique, obviously heavy, its corduroy fabric faded and rubbed down in more places than not. She had seen these neighbors a half dozen or so times before but didn’t know their names. She could see that the oldest child, a boy of about eleven or twelve years, assisted the mother while the two smaller children stood by and watched.
“Can I give you some help with that?” Charlotte asked in spite of herself as she approached. With her height advantage and being naturally athletic, Charlotte was sure to be more effective than the child.
The boy and the mother stopped pushing on the too-heavy couch, as the mother paused to scrutinize Charlotte. A look of recognition came over her face as she asked, “You’re from upstairs, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I live in 5B.”
The woman pulled a face and snapped at her son, “Get out of the way so the lady can help us.”
The boy moved aside with a look that was a mix of defeat and relief. Charlotte felt for a solid grip on the underside of the couch and said to the mother, “If we angle it up to your left, it should just fit through the doorway.”
After a few moments of struggle, the couch slid through, taking some of the paint from the doorframe with it.
“There we have it,” Charlotte remarked, rubbing her hands together and trying to ignore the state of the apartment.
The dim apartment was cluttered with boxes and clothes that not only lined the walls but also filled the interior of the room. A space had obviously been cleared specifically to make room for the couch, along with a path to get the couch in place. An odor of rot seemed to be emanating from a pile in one of the far corners of the room, and the strong smell of grease from cooking hung thickly in the air. Only the oldest boy looked embarrassed to have a stranger see the condition of his home.
“Thanks, love,” the mother said. “It’s nice to have someone handy around.”
“I’m glad to have helped,” Charlotte replied, turning to go.
“Since you’re here…” the woman said, interrupting her retreat. Charlotte turned back to face her, and the woman added, “There’s just something else I was wondering if you might help me to do.”
Charlotte looked expectantly at the woman, whose mousy brown hair fell in disarray like the rest of her apartment.
“It’s just some of my sun blocks on my bedroom window seem to be coming loose,” the woman told Charlotte.
Charlotte followed the shorter woman to her bedroom where, indeed, one corner of the blackout contact paper was peeling away from the window. The woman’s bedroom was slightly tidier than the main room of the apartment, but had an equally pungent smell, a mix of perfumes, scented soaps, and air freshener that overwhelmed her nostrils. Charlotte looked for something to stand on and found a folding chair, moving it over to in front of the window. She stepped gingerly at first, testing her weight, then fully stepped up onto the chair. Within seconds, she sealed the contact paper back against the window and had stepped back down.
“You really ought to keep that looked after,” Charlotte remarked. “UV code red days can come without warning.”
“Yes, you’re quite right,” the woman replied, and Charlotte noticed she had crept closer. “Tell me, neighbor, do you have anyone else in your apartment? A partner, childr
en, parents?”
Inwardly, Charlotte sighed. She spoke curtly to the woman, “No, I live alone. I really must be going now.”
Chapter Five
Sunday night arrived and signaled the start of another six-day workweek. Charlotte welcomed the structure, although she felt like it would take time to adjust to her new lab’s routine.
The first half of her shift passed quickly enough and soon it was time for her lunch break at 0100. The cafeteria was the same one for all labs and the schedules were arranged so that, like with the locker room, only one lab’s staff used the cafeteria at a time. The cafeteria itself was a medium-sized room with a series of round tables and plastic chairs, a counter for any food preparation, a kettle, a hot plate, an instant oven, and a refrigerator. An automated waste bin sorted through trash for its parts: organic matter and recyclable material. The separated parts traveled by pneumatic tube to be processed for energy or reuse.
Charlotte never liked eating in the cafeteria. When the weather permitted, she ventured outside to a bench by the river where she would eat her lunch by fluorescent light. She loved the city at night. The air temperature was bearable and the twinkle of lights in all the buildings gave the city a surreal, peaceful feel. She watched as the light reflected off the water of the river, and wondered about what swam beneath. She was lost in thought, having finished her sandwich some time ago, when a voice startled her.
“Hello there. Mind if I join you?” asked Joanna.
“Oh, no, of course not,” Charlotte replied, and Joanna sat beside her on the bench.
“It’s a bit eerie out here, don’t you think?” Joanna asked, her head cocked slightly to the side.
“I think it’s quite peaceful, really,” Charlotte said. “It’s still. Calm.” She felt a twinge of self-consciousness and looked over at Joanna, whose face was lit by the street lamps and from which she inferred that her own face must be hidden in the shadows.
“Did you want to be alone? I didn’t mean to bother your… calm.” Something in Joanna’s voice hinted of teasing, but she gave Charlotte a small, kind smile.
“Truth is, I’m not accustomed to a lot of company. I usually eat alone. And then I go home and I’m –”
“Alone?” Joanna asked.
Charlotte nodded, and added, “Not that I’m opposed to the company, mind you.”
They were quiet for a moment, both looking at the river, before Joanna said, “I do hope you’ll join our football team.”
“Thanks, but… I don’t know.” Her mind raced to fabricate a reason for why joining the team would be a bad idea, but she came up short.
“It would be good for you. You could meet some people. I’ve got some good friends who have signed up for another season, and I think you’d like them.”
“Listen, Joanna. I appreciate it, but –”
“But nothing. Give them a chance. Meet them. I’m having a dinner party on Thursday night and a bunch of people from the team will be there. Will you come?” Joanna’s eyes sparkled with excitement, the streetlights shining on her pupils.
Charlotte hesitated, and Joanna added, “Don’t say no.”
In a careful, quiet tone, Charlotte said, “You hardly know me. Why do you care?”
Joanna’s face relaxed into an easy smile. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, Charlie. So will you come? Thursday night at my place?”
A chilly wind blew and Charlotte hugged her jacket closer around her body. “I’ll think about it.”
Joanna poked her in the ribs. “You’ll come.”
Charlotte gave a short laugh, surprised at her lack of resistance. “All right, I’ll come.”
“Cheers,” Joanna replied with a grin.
#
Charlotte tied a purple ribbon around the neck of the bottle of non-alcoholic Merlot. Her parents would have turned their noses up at the bottle, but these days the genuine item was very rare indeed. The government’s campaign warning for everyone to be “ever vigilant, ever ready” also discouraged the drinking of real alcohol.
Charlotte felt the sleeve of a black button-down dress shirt that was hanging to dry on a line in her apartment. Satisfied that it was dry, she pulled it down and put it on. She looked through her several pairs of pants for the pair that had the fewest patches and obvious signs of being mended, and settled on her oversized cargo pants that she wore most days. At least they passed the sniff test.
She wasn’t entirely happy to go to Joanna’s dinner party. She knew she couldn’t make an excuse to leave early since both Joanna and she had work immediately afterward and would probably walk there together. She also admitted that the idea of walking to work with someone, with Joanna, didn’t make her entirely unhappy. She hadn’t made any new friends in a long while. She had made a habit of keeping people at a distance.
As Charlotte pressed the buzzer to Joanna’s flat, she felt a sudden impulse to flee. She hadn’t always been anti-social, but the war had changed her. It had changed everybody. For Charlotte, the issue wasn’t just the crowd, but the chance of being found out, and then mistreated and derided for who she was.
The door opened. Joanna was dressed somewhat formally, in a pressed pair of black slacks and a flowing lilac shirt. Charlotte recognized the design of the shirt as one she had seen in the shops this season, and felt a tinge of intimidation stemming from how Joanna could afford new clothes.
“Charlie, I’m so glad you came,” Joanna said, kissing her once on each cheek.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Charlotte replied.
As she followed Joanna into her flat, the sounds of the other guests rose in volume. In total, the apartment was filled with a dozen people: ten of Joanna’s friends, Charlotte, and Joanna herself. They looked over at Charlotte in interest, curious about the newcomer to their circle.
“Is this the new footballer?” asked a shorter man with a face of orange bristles.
“Come off it, Geoff,” replied Joanna in a light tone. “She hasn’t agreed yet.”
Geoff held out his hand to her and Charlotte shook it. Geoff said, “Well I’m the captain of our motley crew of footballers. You look fit, like you work out. Maybe you’d like to ‘work out’ with me?” he asked, grinning. He had waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive way.
“Don’t mind him, Charlie,” Joanna said. “He’s hitting the funny pills early tonight.”
Charlotte looked Geoff up and down, and said to him, “I’m not sure you could keep up with me, although no doubt you’d like to try.”
“Oh-ho-ho,” Geoff replied, grinning even wider. He added, “I like this one, Joanna. She’ll do just fine.”
The meal itself passed quickly and painlessly enough, and gave Charlotte the opportunity to learn more about her potential teammates. She learned that Geoff was terminally single, but seemed to be a decent enough guy. Two other people turned out to be a couple, and they were polite but reserved, perhaps out of tension in their relationship. Charlotte had noticed the woman, named Harriet, because of her striking looks – stormy blue eyes, chin-length black hair that contrasted with her very fair skin, and tailored clothes on her slender frame – but didn’t find an opportunity to talk to her. There was nothing notable about the others. They seemed to all be twenty-to-thirty-something professional workers and standup citizens – if one could overlook the small recreational drug habit of Geoff and a couple of the others.
After dinner was finished, Charlotte helped with clearing off the table, despite Joanna’s insistence that she should just enjoy the party. On one trip back to the table from the kitchen, Charlotte saw Harriet across the room, hugging her arms across her chest and looking out the picture window. The other half of the couple, a man, stood at her side, facing her. Charlotte couldn’t make out what the man was saying, but his furrowed brow and aggressive posture gave her pause. She felt drawn to Harriet, and experienced an inexplicable urge to walk over and intervene. A second or two passed before she began to feel as though she were intruding on an intimate moment, and s
o she made her way back to the kitchen with the last round of dishes.
Around twenty minutes before Joanna and Charlotte were due at work, Joanna excused herself from the party so she could tidy up in her bedroom before heading out. She asked Charlotte to come with her.
Charlotte leaned back against a wall in Joanna’s bedroom and thanked her again for having invited her to the party.
“You’ll really have to stop that, you know. The excessive politeness. It’s not necessary in our group,” Joanna said, smiling. She slipped her shirt off over her head and pulled on a lightweight sweater.
“Sorry,” Charlotte said.
“Just don’t let it happen again,” Joanna teased. A moment passed and Joanna added, “I saw you eyeing Harriet at dinner, by the way. You know she’s partnered, right?”
Charlotte cleared her throat, unaware that she had been caught looking at the quiet, dark-haired woman. She said, “Yes, I figured – with Thomas, right?”
“Mm-hmm. They’ve been together for a while now,” Joanna replied, maintaining eye contact with her guest.
“Good for them,” Charlotte replied evenly.
Joanna gave an exaggerated sigh and laughed. “One day, Charlie, I’m going to get you to open up.”
“Fortunately for me, we have to get going to work now,” Charlotte replied.
Chapter Six
By the time Thursday night arrived, Charlotte had stopped thinking about Harriet and the party, and instead was looking forward to seeing an old friend who she hadn’t seen in a while.
Charlotte had chosen a table with a view of the sidewalk, so she might see when Erin arrived. She had been sitting in the booth, with its high backs and sticky wooden table, long enough to watch a half dozen people finish their drinks and leave while double that number entered the pub. She wished that the beer she was drinking had alcohol in it.
Erin rushed into the pub, her frizzy hair styled into tight braids on one side of her head but blowing wildly in the air on the other side. Charlotte recognized this as a fashionable look, although fashion in general had swung back toward the conservative end of the spectrum. Designers were showcasing styles that were nearly a century old, a throwback to the 1940s and the previous World War. She had wondered if these styles were themselves propaganda, relying on nostalgia to make the masses more patriotic and to convince them that more stable times were ahead.
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