Carrie was mindful that she had just asked her best friend to go fuck herself while she was a guest in her house.

Of course, she had said it in jest—or tried to. That’s what she quickly signaled by smiling and laughing, as if to wrap it in.

“And how is school?” Lin’s mother interjected helpfully.

They were having lunch in the stadium-sized living room, all geometric furniture, unused fireplace, and a wound-like abstract painting. Outside, a thick white coat of snow crystals had been applied to the park-like lawn.

Lin snickered but there was a dismissiveness to it, which Carrie wasn’t sure was directed at her or her mother.

“Well, school—” Carrie started.

“School is fine,” Lin said, then turned to Carrie, looking down a little. “And yeah, there is nothing between you and Lars Anestad.”

“Isn’t … Lars the new boy from North Dakota?” Julia Kouris asked, apparently forgetting her strategy of two seconds ago.

“He is hardly new,” Carrie said.

“Oh.”

“ You know, I really can’t eat anymore.” Lin glanced at Carrie. “It was a really big meal.”

Carrie eyed Lin, who was already pulling out her chair. Then she followed.

“Well, then…” Lin’s mother said and put the fork and knife down, even though she still had a bite of onion pie left on her plate.

Big, just like your living room, Carrie thought but then stopped herself. “It was very lovely, Mrs. Kouris.”

In truth, it had been almost too much—five dishes, not counting dessert. Garlic bread, chickpea salad, rice cakes, onion pie, and then some yogurt with cocoa and tea—lots of tea.

“I feel very healthy now,” Carrie added with an attached smile as she stood up.

“I do my best,” Mrs. Kouris said and surveyed the grand table and all the plates as if she had missed something.

Carrie nodded and remembered to smile again. Lin was waiting for her at the doorway. Then they both shuffled up the stairs without talking.

“I’m going to the M-room,” Lin’s mother called after them. “So if you want anything, you serve yourselves, okay?”

“Okay, Mom.”

“What’s the “M-room”?” Carrie asked.

“Meditation,” Lin just said, looking serious. They continued up to the first and then second floor in silence. Then the last stairs …

When Lin finally closed the hatch to her attic room behind them, she turned and said, “Do you think I should go fuck myself? You know I do that quite often.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Carrie said.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I was joking. I wasn’t being serious. We were all laughing. Can’t you take a joke?”

“It wasn’t a joke,” Lin said. She had slumped down on her bed and left Carrie standing in the room surrounded by posters of sinister-looking mythical animals and a pile of obscure heavy metal and dark synth CDs.

Carrie kept standing defiantly in the center of the room, but near the hatch. She was running her hand through her long blonde hair as she often did when she got agitated. “And I am not dating Lars Anestad. Why do you say such bull to your mom?!”

“Well, is it really ‘bull’?” Lin cocked her head, rested her chin on her fist. “I saw you two kissing at Denise’s party.”

“But that doesn’t mean we are dating!” Carrie said, exasperated. “I’m tired of you saying that—to everyone!”

Lin was quiet for a long moment. Her dark eyes looked like they were watching something far away. “Okay,” she then said. “Of course not.”

Carrie flumped down on Lin’s office chair at her small desk. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“Nothing at all,” Lin said while rummaging through the CDs. She paused and looked like she was concentrating on finding something particularly well hidden. “But when my best friend is hitched, it’s nice to know.”

“Are you afraid I won’t tell you if I get ‘hitched’ or something?” Carrie stared at Lin, shaking her head ever so slightly. Her face also reddened.

On the window behind Carrie, snowflakes began to gather again, and then melt when they touched the warm glass. Lin had turned the radiator just below up to the max. But at the pace of the snow tonight, it would not be long before they would win the struggle between the fragile heat of the house and the frozen elements outside.

Lin hurried on with her CD project. “There!”

“You’re not going to play that?!” Carrie snorted. “It’s like three years old.”

“You always say you don’t like my favorites. I’m putting this one on for you.”

“I’d like to hear some Wolfsheim instead…”

“Come on.” Lin pulled her legs up under her on the bed, rested her chin on her knees. “You shouldn’t listen to all my weird stuff.”

Carrie crossed her arms. “You do it all the time.”

“Well, it’s better that I do it than you do it,” Lin said.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Some of that music is not good for the… for you,” Lin replied.

Carrie blinked. “Why do you care about the music that I listen to?”

Lin suddenly came alive and practically jumped out of the bed. In one smooth motion, she dove forward to lean over Carrie to reach the CD player on the desk behind her.

“Hey, careful,” Carrie cried out. “Do you want to do a stage dive over me or something?!”

Lin pulled back after having ensured the CD was where it should be. The reggae-pop beat that followed confirmed that it was. “Afraid I’ll crush you?”

“Well, you could have gone around…”

“Where’s the fun in that? Now forget Wolfsheim. Let’s make some better connections.” Lin reached out, and before Carrie knew it, her petite but surprisingly strong friend had pulled her up on the floor. Lin began swaying to the rhythm, still holding Carrie’s hands.

“I forgive you, you know. Let’s warm up before Megan’s party next week.”

“You’re unreal,” Carrie panted.

“A little bit.”

Carrie followed Lin’s lead reluctantly, but she didn’t let go of the other girl’s hands. Eventually, they found a genuine, if slightly awkward, way of dancing to the hard beat while still holding on to each other.

When the song had finished, Lin turned off the player. They both flumped down on the bed, and for a few seconds no one said anything.

Then Carrie breathed in. She looked at Lin. When Lin just looked back, still without saying anything, Carrie quickly put up a hand. “Your bra strap is all the way down on your elbow. There…”

“Thanks.”

“When are you going to wear some proper blouse instead of that mesh yoke top? If I had worn such things in the winter on Skye, I’d have frozen solid.”

“The house is all fired up for winter,” Lin said dismissively. “It’s no prob. And it’s the best they had in Hot Topic.”

“You could’ve bought anything else, literally.”

“There is nothing else I want.”

They watched the oncoming snow for a few more moments in silence. The attic window was almost covered now.

“Well, you are crazy,” Carrie said. “And I have to get home soon.”

“Why? It’s Saturday.”

“I still have that stupid ass essay for Mrs. Hoyle.”

“But you can do that in the evening.”

“Have you seen the weather? If I go now, it’ll take me like hours to get back.”

“Mick can drive you.”

Carrie raised a brow. “Lin. He should have the day off today.”

Lin laughed—a quick, sharp laugh. “Now you want to manage my staff.”

“Your staff of one…” Carrie ruffled Lin’s hair. “Are you…” She paused, then swallowed. “ … That thing with Lars, it was nothing. I mean, I like him, but we were very drunk and…”

Lin shook her head. “No, no, no, my ‘wee one.’ Don’t make excuses. If you and him, you know, go steady, that’s fine. He is not my type anyway.”

“Who is your type? I mean, you’ve been at Cuyahoga’s for three months now and everyone comes to your parties.”

“I don’t do those anymore, Carrie.”

“You know what I mean. You should have—”

“—Should have what?”

Carrie stopped ruffling Lin’s dark, curly hair immediately. “Okay. Sorry I asked.”

Lin warmed immediately. “No, it’s fine. It really is. It is cute if you are trying to set me up. Three months ago you were on the ground floor, remember—you were so down and out.” She giggled. “You thought everyone hated you.”

“Some still do.”

“But not so much anymore. Or not at all.”

Carrie nodded slowly. That was an analysis she could get behind, even if she was in doubt—always in doubt that it would hold. But the party at Denise’s had gone surprisingly well, and she felt that it was not just because she had danced with Lars and, well… what happened later. For the first time, she felt she could look out over the hallway in the mornings instead of just finding a new place to stare at her locker.

Lin breathed deeply, then took Carrie’s hand—the one Carrie had had in her hair just moments ago—and gave it a quick kiss, slightly overdone, as if she was trying to emulate something in a movie or other. Carrie giggled. “Gross!”

“I’m gross,” Lin said, “and you know it. But I’m glad we didn’t start fighting. It was great talking about your script, and the illustrations and, well, the lunch and—” they both burst into laughter.

“Your mom is as nuts as mine,” Carrie blurted. “Next thing after going vegan is what—eat sunshine?!”

“Something like that,” Lin laughed. Then she looked intensely at Carrie. “I have actually heard that some people do that.”

“What?”

“Live just from sunshine.”

“Get out of here.”

“No, it’s your turn to get out. You are right, it’s a long way home in the snow to Grant Avenue.” She got up from the bed. “I’ll go call Mick. Stay put.”

When she had opened the hatch and was about to descend the stairs to the second floor, Carrie stopped Lin. “Lin, why do you want to spend time with me? Seriously? I’m not—”

Lin held a finger up to her lips. “Shush. You’re perfect.”

Carrie shook her head, slightly exasperated. “I mean, I make drawings for your stories and stuff, but… what why? Really?”

“I mean that your self-confidence is much better now. Don’t ruin it. Don’t start questioning.”

“But what—”

“Shh!”

“Okay…” Now it was Carrie’s turn to pull her legs up on the bed and sulk. “Okay! Whatever you say, Miss Gatz.”

Lin opened the hatch fully. “Don’t ever forget it again, Carrie. I never want to see you so… sad as you were last winter. Here at my dreadful party. Never.”

“But what should I never forget again?”

“You know,” Lin said. Then she was gone.

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Photo by Sergio Kian on Unsplash

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