Coming to Nothing

an excerpt from a draft

Miss Caroline Brice was feeling fine until she approached the counter; mostly fine, well enough. She was able to stifle her loneliness during the drive into town. She succeeded in navigating and arriving and parking and knocking upon without a single tear shed. She smiled widely and exchanged pleasantries before sitting down next to her beloved friend. Everything was within appropriate reason until the counter; mostly. 

	That visit was the first time Caroline had been invited to Miss Sara Pruitt’s home. The two met a month prior, so the endeavor was significant. She was immediately impressed, for each detail of the spacious sitting room was memorable. The entire area was fashionable, most notably the viridian sectional. There was a matching chair by the window, but Sara seemed insistent on Caroline sitting next to her by way of patting the sofa’s cushion. There was a slight aroma in the air, not quite lavender, not quite bergamot. For a moment, Caroline felt rather new.

	“This is lovely,” Caroline said to Sara, her gaze lingering on the floral wallpaper. It was a typical response, but at that moment the sincerest. 

	Sara spoke her appreciation before telling Caroline, “It’s looked the same since I was little. Mom is especially proud of the carpet there. Oh, I lied, the wallpaper was replaced once, when I was in high school. It used to be red, which was far more suffocating than the yellow. It’s better this way, I told her it would be. Oh! And I bought this vase just the other day, this one right here. Isn’t it cute?”

	Caroline politely smiled as she examined the vase. “Oh yes, that’s lovely too. You should put something in it. Something pink would do nicely.”

	“Mom will. Tell me how you’re doing—the drive was okay?”

	“Yes, it was fine. I was worried my car was going to shut off at that light before your street, though. It was so long!”

	Sara laughed. “That light is the bane of Westridge!” Her smile softened. “Does it stop if it sits? You need to get that fixed.”

	Caroline felt the impulse to frown. Instead, she laughed and nodded and said, “I know, I’m saving for that. There’s a good bit of overtime at work right now.”

	“Speaking of! I quit my job last week. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

	Caroline did frown, then. It wasn’t long ago she advised Sara to take her time, to be strategic and purposeful and prepared. “Well, since you hated it. Do you have something else in mind?” She spoke carefully and precisely.

	“No, but I have time to figure it out. I can take commission work while I do.”

	“You have a degree, so that should help. Any degree can be useful, you know. There’s a guy in our office who manages distribution with a literature degree.”

	Sara responded with a collection of words that didn’t mean much of anything, some sort of argument for some sort of reason, so Caroline decided not to push the topic, despite her concern and despite her irritation. She glanced around the room at Sara’s mother’s things, all tidy and clean inside Sara’s mother’s house, and figured that her friend’s predicament was agreeable.

	“Is your mom home?” Caroline asked, smiling again.

	“She’s at work,” Sara responded, reaching for her mug. “Sometimes she’s gotta go in on Saturdays.” 

        Caroline’s frown returned without decision. Her own unemployment, of which ended several months prior, did not look like Sara’s. It was made of an altogether different substance, resulting in an altogether opposing circumstance. She was beginning to feel angered—surprisingly not jealous, just angered. She realized she hadn’t spoken, only stared, and Sara looked expectant.

        “May I have some coffee?” she asked.

        “Of course!” Sara nodded, gesturing towards the northern doorway. Some tension left her posture from the movement. “That’s the kitchen, there’s still some left in the pot. Creamer in the fridge. Mugs are in the second cabinet. You can grab whichever one you want.”

        The coffee pot was atop the warmer on the counter.