Karen had been quiet the entire film. No questions about the characters. No complaints about the subtext. Total silence.
“You ok?”
There was no mention of my bad French and no complaints about the prominent color theme.
She shrugged.
“You aren’t sick or anything are you?”
“So there’s this guy at work,” she sighed.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Meh.”
“But you’re getting back out there. Getting back in the groove.”
“I don’t need to be back in the groove. I’ve been out there.”
“And?” I asked.
“And, meh.” She shrugged her shoulders and slumped a bit.
“But this guy from work thing? What about this? Is this a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I don’t … I don’t really know, yet,” she said swatting away the questions with her hands. “It’s just a thing. It doesn’t really matter now that the world’s ending does it?”
She had stood up and clicked the news app on the TV. The infection numbers were steadily rising. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and she was in comfy slate gray sweats.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Probably go to Mom’s. Make sure she’s stocked up on supplies. It’s not horrible. They haven’t shut the world down yet. They should, but they haven’t.”
I took a deep pull of wine.
“What about you?”
“Well, the guy from work is supposed to come over this weekend., but we’ll see.” She got strangely quiet as soon as she said it.
I felt the machines flutter. It must have been written all over my face.
“You can’t tell Tom,” she pointed at me.
“Tell Tom what? There’s currently nothing to tell.”
“Thank you,” she said giving me a hug. “Thank you.”
The hug lasted a little too long. My heart was beating hard enough that I knew she felt it through my chest.
“Deep breath,” I whispered. She took a deep breath and as she exhaled, I stood to my full height and felt her back crack from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck.
“I’m going to miss these hugs,” she said still hanging on tight. “I like this.” She nuzzled her cheek onto my shoulder.
“Think of Connie, and Tabitha, and Caitlin,” whispered the machines.
“I like this, too,” I said slowly breaking the hug. “That’s why it stays this. Anything else gets messy. And I don’t want to mess this up. The friendship comes first.”
There was a hint of disappointment in her eyes.
“You once asked me how someone with such little arms could give such big hugs.”
“Still haven’t figured that out.” The machines whirred quietly.
“That’s because it’s hard to hug somebody at arm’s length. You have to let them in close enough to feel it.
“I wish you could see what I see.” She turned the tv off and dropped the remote on the couch.
“I do, too.” I looked in her eyes then turned to the door.
“Let me know how this ‘guy from work thing’ goes.” I stepped out the door and down the walkway.
“Maybe,” I heard her say as I walked to my car.
By the time I turned around to wave good-bye, the door was closed and the interior hall light was out. There was no question about the character. There was no complaint about the subtext. Other than the grinding of the machines, there was total silence.
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