It's just us

Johnnie had just sat down on the old, ragged couch she kept in the middle of her apartment. Her One room apartment on the sixth floor of a partially run-down building. She'd just got done with work. All three jobs and a bit of something else on the side, all in one day. She was surprised she hadn't already collapsed from the exhaustion. She looked around, briefly taking the place back in.

The walls inside, once covered in fresh white wallpaper, were yellow and peeling. The floors were old, creaking wood adorned with a single, black, tattered throw rug. Just opposite her couch rested an old, half-broken stove and a severely chipped counter made of little more than ply wood, and then a sink. What rested on top or in that tiny section of kitchen was a pan, a pot, a small knife, a spoon, and a fork. A door leading to a small bathroom was just beside the tiny kitchen. In the middle of the room was a semi-used radio. It was the only apparent form of entertainment in the small apartment. All these things were hers, and she was almost proud of that. A home is a home after all.

 

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and found herself falling into sleep.

 

She woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She didn't quite recognize the number, but answered anyway. It was one of her bosses, Bridget. She had obviously been drinking and was out of place and begging for Johnnie to come help her. With what, she wouldn't say. The caller was being very vague. Either intentionally or because she was too upset to get her thoughts out properly. It was two in the morning, but Johnnie couldn't bring herself to just say no. The woman needed her.

 

 

She didn't have a car, so she had to ride her bike the whole way down to the bar Bridget had called from. It was about fifteen miles away and wouldn't really take Johnnie that long to get there.

She wasn't normally out this late, for any reason. Being downtown at night typically wasn't a good idea around her area. Even now as she rode down the streets she could see people watching her, and they weren't shy about it. Johnnie couldn't help but think that maybe Bridget's problem was with one of them. It wouldn't have been that surprising; she was a very attractive woman.

 

When she finally got there, Bridget practically tackled Johnnie in the parking lot. The woman was a mess and seemed even more flustered then when she called. Her long blonde hair was all frizzed, her classy cloths wet with alcohol.

 

“I'm homeless now.” Was Bridget's first confession as she situated herself onto Johnnie's bike. She just barely fit onto the back of the seat.

“My parents took my house away and my car and even the store... I don't know what to do.”

 

Bridget was one of those girls that came from a rich family, involved in politics. The sort of family that had fifteen cars and vacation homes in Hawaii. It was also the kind of family that put you in the social spotlight and pressured you to be a certain way... This was the punishment for not being that certain way, what everyone wanted. Bridget didn't have to tell Johnnie any of that though, she could already tell just by looking at her.

 

It took a bit longer for Johnnie to get back to her apartment than it did to get to the bar. Mainly because she had to be careful with her half-drunken passenger, who had been trying to tell her what had exactly happened, but Johnnie just told her to be quiet and to calm down a bit before getting it all out. She couldn't understand a word out of her and every time she tried speaking she moved her arms around, making it kind of hard to balance.

When they finally got back to the apartment, Johnnie had some difficulty opening the door. Rusty hinges and all. By this time, Bridget was even more a mess than before and the smell of alcohol coming off of her was starting to make Johnnie sick, so she let Bridget take a quick shower and barrow some of her cloths.

She could hear the woman crying in the shower, even over the sound of the water and the creaky pipes. It really tugged at Johnnie.

When Bridget stepped out of the bathroom, only really wearing one of Johnnie’s slightly over sized T-shirts, she had seemed to have calmed down just a bit, but it was like the tears had stained her cheeks.

The both of them sat down on Johnnie's couch and started to talk. Slowly, Bridget let it out, explaining in detail what had happened exactly. Johnnie expected her to say something like: She'd spent a million on a car in her parent’s money, or something like she was marrying a black man... but no. She didn't say either of those or anything else Johnnie thought she'd have done, but instead, she showed her a photo. It was Bridget with another woman who seemed awfully clingy to her.

 

“They found out about my girlfriend.” She explained.

“... My parents, they told me they'd love me no matter what but... When they found out about her they acted like I wasn't even their daughter and... Took everything away... They said I was a danger to my father’s career... The only reason I stopped drinking tonight was because they locked me out of my accounts.”

 

Johnnie just looked at her for a moment, in silence. She didn't expect her to be so completely forthcoming with all of that. She only ever expected surface encounters from her, even in situations like this.

 

“You didn't know, did you? That I was gay. I... I'm sorry if you... you don't... um...” Bridget said, carving out of the silence.

“... I'll just... go...”

 

Bridget started to get up to leave, but Johnnie grabbed her wrist to keep her where she was. They looked at each other, Bridget slightly confused. Johnnie just gave her a smile and said:

 

“ You know, we're a lot alike.”