High Steaks
By: Kristen Forbes
Their living arrangement was supposed to be temporary, only to last those few brief months after they'd graduated from college and before they'd landed the jobs that would allow them to do better. "Just for now," Charlie used to say to Janine when she jumped from her sleep at the sound of Sarge drunkenly crashing through the front door during those first balmy summer nights.
"Just for now" became "just awhile longer," until at last it became apparent that neither Charlie nor Sarge could scrape together enough to get Sarge his own place. Janine was known for her threats -- "I swear to God, if he overflows the toilet one more time" -- but she was also known for her lack of follow-through. Despite any intentions otherwise, she could never bring herself to leave Charlie. Before any of them noticed, the years had passed and the three remained in the cramped apartment together.
Charlie watched Janine now, standing in the kitchen by the cabinet he'd repaired after months of promises, pouring merlot in a glass big enough for two. Her wrist looked delicate as she turned the bottle over and Charlie remembered when he thought she was incapable of causing pain.
"You shouldn't," Charlie whispered as Janine raised the drink to her mouth.
"Neither should you," Janine responded as she glared at the forty-ounce beer cradled in Charlie's hand.
"I don't think it's safe," Charlie said as he attempted to grab the glass away.
"Since when do you care about being safe?" Janine asked, rubbing a hand over her stomach. She was about to say more when Sarge entered from the garage door with a T-bone steak he'd pulled from the freezer.
"Frostbitten," Sarge said as he tossed the steak on the counter with a thud. "But throw it on the fire and you'll never be able to tell."
Janine caught a sideways reflection of herself in the window as Sarge felt his rosy cheeks with the backs of his hands.
"Jesus, how many months along are you now?" Charlie asked, laughing. Janine disdainfully looked up from the window before realizing Charlie was patting Sarge's round belly.
"Very funny, asshole," Sarge said as as he swatted Charlie's hands away. Charlie caught a quick glance from Janine and immediately looked guilty.
Janine retrieved a dull knife from the silverware drawer and began scraping ice crystals off the meat. "This isn't going to be enough, you know."
Sarge rolled his eyes. "If you didn't have the appetite of a football player -- "
"One steak, Sarge. Three people, one steak."
"At least we have enough booze to fuck up an entire third world country," Sarge said.
"Yes, because that's important," Janine responded bitingly.
"Uh oh, Queen Janine is pissed again," Sarge announced.
Janine looked to Charlie, hoping he would defend her but already knowing he wouldn't. Charlie sat at the table and began constructing a pyramid out of empty beer cans. "You guys are perpetually eighteen years old," Janine said.
"Well, you're turning into a grandma," Sarge told her.
"I can't believe I have to sit through another night of watching you dumbasses drink yourself into stupidity."
"You should go out, Janine. I hear your old friend Mark is in town."
Charlie caught Sarge's eyes and glared. Janine noticed.
"I can't fucking believe this," Janine said.
"Settle down, Cher," Charlie said, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment before she wiggled away.
***
Charlie bought his Bill Clinton mask at the last minute and Sarge convinced everyone that the same jeans and black t-shirt he wore every Saturday really was a costume -- "What? I'm a drunk frat boy" -- the year they went to Dan Patterson's Halloween party. Last time they went to a Dan Patterson party, the cute girl from Sarge's chemistry class lost her liquor all over the lawn. "She just doesn't look as cute now, does she?" Sarge asked when they'd maneuvered past her on the way back to the keg. A week later they stood on the same deck, drinking with the same kids from their school, when they saw Cher gliding past the glass doors onto the balcony, delicately holding a cup of beer and laughing with the guy on her arm.
Janine made a convincing Cher, but her date Mark lacked credibility as Sonny. He was too tall, too put together, and not awkward enough to pull off the look. Janine was small and toned and graceful, with a girlish face and long, shiny black hair. She looked so natural as Cher and everyone on the balcony noticed.
"Bill! I hope you stick around for another four years," Janine said to Charlie when they found themselves together by the keg later in the evening.
"Thanks, Cher. Ever thought about running for office yourself?"
Janine laughed and Charlie noticed her hair smelled like orange blossoms. The stars were out and a sliver of moon was shining down, casting a glow against the tall maple trees.
"So what's your real name?"
"Janine," she said, sliding her small hand into his and giving it a shake. "Queen Janine, as my sisters call me."
"I'm Charlie," he answered. "Just Charlie." He noticed Sarge looking toward them from the other side of the balcony and she noticed Mark looking toward them as well.
"I guess I shouldn't keep my friend waiting," Charlie said.
"Yeah, I should probably get back too," Janine said as she balanced the beer she was getting for Mark and the beer she was holding for herself. She was turning to walk back toward Mark when Charlie asked, "How many sisters?"
Janine set the drinks back down on the ledge of the balcony and pretended to do finger math on her hands. "Let's see. Messy Leslie, Lazy Katie, Prissy Krissy, and Marinara Sara. I guess that makes four."
"And brothers?"
"Just one."
"Let me guess -- Mad Brad?"
"Close, but no. Macaroni Tony."
Charlie breathed in the smell of orange blossoms. "I love your hair," he said, before working up the courage to add, "It's all I can do not to touch it."
Janine laughed the hardest when he said that.
"What?" he asked. "Too much?"
"Hold this, Charlie," she said, handing him one of the drinks she'd picked up from the balcony ledge. Charlie held her beer as she reached up to her hair, running her hands through its silky strands. Then she reached up further, to the base of her scalp, and slowly pushed the hair back and off her head. She held the wig in front of her, its long black strands in a heaped pile in her palms. Her own hair was light brown, chin length, slicked back and plain. She took the beer back from Charlie and replaced it with the wig.
"Here, you can keep this," she said.
Her own hair looked plain but Charlie couldn't stop staring at her; he didn't stop until Mark came over, introduced himself as her boyfriend, and pulled her away.
"Thanks for ditching me for twenty minutes," Sarge said when Charlie returned, still holding the wig in his hands. Charlie stretched the wig over his Bill Clinton mask and laughed as Sarge stood still, shaking his head.
"We should play strip poker," Sarge suggested now, watching Janine look to her phone as if she expected it to ring at any moment.
"Dude, why you'd want to see my girlfriend strip is one thing, "Charlie said. "Add to that why you'd want to see me strip -- "
"Good point. Forget strip poker."
"We could go to a movie," Janine said.
"Let's stay in," Charlie said.
"Sure, let's just do the same fucking thing we do every week," Janine said as she sighed and opened the fridge. Her voice took on a whiny tone as she said, "Aren't we too old to have an empty fridge?"
"Let's order pizza," Charlie suggested.
"How many years have you been out of college?" Janine asked.
"Is that Marky Mark on the line?" Sarge asked as Janine's phone rang. "You two have been awfully cozy lately."
Janine flipped Sarge off and took the phone with her into the living room.
She came back a few minutes later and announced she was leaving to meet Mark for a cup of coffee. "And if I hear one ridiculous word out of either of you about this," she said as she pulled open the door, then mumbled something incoherent as the door closed behind her.
***
Nearly six months passed from the time they'd met at the Halloween party when Charlie awoke to the sound of pounding on his door. He shuffled to the entrance wearing only boxers, rubbing his eyes and trying to flatten out his hair.
He opened the door and Janine breezed past, stopping only to kiss him on the cheek. "I brought the goods," she said.
"What are you talking about?" he asked sleepily, as she carried three shopping bags into the kitchen and set them on the table.
"We need a big bowl," she said, rummaging through his cupboards. "Bigger than this, bigger than this."
"This is the biggest one I have," he said, pulling a large bowl from a shelf above the oven.
"Perfect! Let's start."
"What are we doing?"
"What does it look like we're doing, Charlie? Bring me that flour."
He found a bag of flour in one of the shopping bags and brought it to Janine. She started pouring in the bowl.
"That's a lot of flour," Charlie said.
She smiled, scooped some into her hand, and blew like she was blowing on a dandelion, scattering flour onto his tan and freckled face and thick shoulders.
"What are you doing?" Charlie asked. He pinched the collar of her sweater and made beeping sounds like a dump truck and unloaded a handful of flour down the back of her neck.
She let out a squeal. "Bring me that sugar."
They continued, adding ingredients to the bowl and waging a full-on food fight in the process. By the time they put the cake in the oven, they were sitting on the floor, covered in flour and sugar and eggs.
"Remind me again what we're celebrating," Charlie said.
Janine attacked him with the chocolate sauce, then leaned into him and said, "Oh, right. I broke up with Mark."
"I can't believe you're letting her go out with him," Sarge said now as he added another can to their pyramid.
"How am I supposed to stop her?" Charlie asked. And besides, they're just friends."
"Exes are never just friends and you're fucking retarded for thinking so. You let her get away with so much shit."
"She's the one who's put up with a lot," Charlie said.
"Yeah, poor Janine," Sarge said as their pyramid of beer cans crashed to the floor.
***
Janine came home several hours later, looking exhausted. "How was the coffee?" Sarge asked. "What did you talk about?" Charlie asked.
"You guys are drunk," was Janine's only response, before she went to the counter and tried to pour herself another glass of wine.
"Janine, please," Charlie said, and she glared at him but stopped pouring.
Sarge noticed and shared a brief look with Janine, too brief for Charlie to notice but long enough for Janine to get a flashback from several months earlier, when Charlie had been visiting his cousin for the weekend and Sarge and she had been alone in the house together.
"We talked about Spring Break," Janine said as she gave up on the wine and poured herself a glass of water.
"Spring Break?"
"Our freshman year, we went to the coast. We were eating at this restaurant by the beach -- they had the best clams you could ever imagine -- and the waitress was new and nervous and stumbling like a fucking kid or something. She spilled an entire pitcher of water on Mark's lap and for the rest of the night he walked around looking like he'd peed his pants."
"That's what you talked about?" Sarge asked. "Sounds like a hot coffee date."
"He didn't freak out or anything. He never did. Cool as a cucumber, like my mom would say."
"Just like this one here," Sarge said as he gestured to Charlie. "The one who pouted for three days when you washed that fucking lucky shirt?"
"We lost the goddamn World Series because of that shirt," Charlie said quickly.
Sarge looked toward Janine again, but she looked far away.
The image of being with Sarge in Charlie's bed played out in Janine's mind and she announced she was tired and headed for the bedroom.
"God, you let her get away with everything," Sarge repeated to Charlie after Janine left. "I wonder if it's even yours," Sarge added.
"Of course it's mine," Charlie said, glaring at Sarge. "For the millionth time, she and Mark are just friends."
It was too late for Janine to take back what had happened with Sarge. Too late the next morning when they split the T-bone steak three ways, coating their hangovers with fatty pieces of meat and A-1 sauce. Too late a week later, when Charlie asked her to marry him and she said yes and locked herself in her room, looking at her sideways relection to see if she noticed any changes yet.
After a few minutes, when she didn't recognize her own face in the mirror, Janine rummaged through her closet until she found an old hat box in the back corner under a pile of winter coats. She opened the box and took out a black wig, now matted and stringy. It still smelled faintly like orange blossoms and beer even though three years had passed since she'd left Sonny to make small talk with a mermaid and met Bill Clinton in a bathroom on the second floor. She was still wearing it when Charlie knocked on the door and told her she was pretty, even when she was crying.
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